Take it…
He is still.
Standing — focused, unguarded — he sways just barely – gently – toward me then away, moving to the rhythm of my palm’s demand. His swollen flesh fills the cradle of my hand.
He is enjoying himself; there is no doubt of that.
But his soft-sweet responses are not quite in line with my intent. Because while I may near-always be soft, tonight I am feeling anything but sweet.
So I scrape my nails – forcefully, intentionally – across the purpled tumid tip of his cock.
…to the limit…
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