The lube pours like rain, effortlessly — my closed fist a vessel.
It drips in a stream onto your cock and partially open palm.
I lay down between your outstretched legs, to watch.
Your hand strokes the length of your shaft, palm down, until you grip the head in your palm, before sliding back down again.
You does this very slowly, over and over until your breathing changes ever so slightly.
I detect a catch on the intake of air.
You are trying to draw it out, to take your time.
And draw me in.
I watch your hand, but my eyes travel to your finely rippled belly; the tightening of your muscles.
My fingers gently rake the insides of your thighs and you gasp and close your eyes.
My throat is dry.
I lick my lips and whisper breath across your balls.
Your fist grips your cock, sliding effortlessly along the shaft, precum dripping down onto your wrist.
My tongue darts out before I recall my promise to not touch and just watch.You moans as my tongue licks the nectar from your pulse. Your eyes meet mine. You shiver.
And so do I.
