"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. I tucked another strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on her jaw. "You’re doing everything right. It’s . Hand stuff feels great, but sotis it’s not enough to... finish. Especially when I’m this worked up."
She bit her lip, glancing down at where she held —still hard, still throbbing in her grip. "Because of ?"
I nodded, voice low. "Yeah. You’ve got so hard it hurts a little. Not in a bad way—just... need more."
That hit her, I could see it—the flush deepening on her cheeks, her thighs pressing together again. She didn’t pull away; if anything, her fingers curled a little tighter, like she wanted to fix it. "What... what would make it better? I don’t want you hurting like that. Not because of ."
I searched her face, making sure she ant it—no rush, no push. "Sothing warr. Wetter. Like... if you used your mouth, it might relieve it. But you don’t have to. Seriously. This is already more than enough."
She froze for a second, eyes widening. Not scared—curious. Surprised at herself for considering it. "My mouth?"
I nodded, keeping my voice soft. "Yeah. Feels different. Better for when it’s stuck like this. But only if you’re okay with it. We can stop."
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she glanced down again, her fingers tracing the length of slowly, like she was imagining it. Her breathing was quicker, and I felt her body lean a little more into mine, warm and soft against my side. "I’ve never... but if it helps you... I want to try."
"You sure?" I asked, my hand sliding up her back a bit higher under the shirt, thumb brushing the clasp of her bra.
She nodded, a small, shy smile breaking through. "Yeah. Show how?"
"Okay," I whispered, my voice low and steady, trying to keep everything calm for her. My hand moved from her back to the nape of her neck, fingers threading gently into her hair—not pulling, just guiding, light pressure to show her the way. She leaned with it, her body still pressed warm against my side as she bent forward a little, her face hovering closer.
"Start slow," I murmured, my thumb stroking the side of her neck. "Just touch it with your lips first. Like a kiss."
She nodded, her breath coming out shaky against —warm puffs that made twitch in anticipation. Her lips brushed the tip first, soft and hesitant, barely there. It was like silk, warm and gentle, sending a spark straight up my spine.
"God, that’s good," I breathed, my fingers tightening just a fraction in her hair. "Again... a little firr."
She did, pressing her lips more deliberately this ti, a real kiss—slow, lingering. Her mouth was so soft, untouched by anything rough, like it was made for this. I felt the heat of it seep into , the ache starting to shift from frustration to sothing sharper, sweeter.
"Now... your tongue," I said, voice rougher. "Just lick the tip. Taste it."
She hesitated for half a second, then her tongue darted out—light, exploratory, circling the head slowly. Wet. Warm. Smooth as heaven. A quiet hum escaped her, like she was surprised by the taste, but she didn’t stop. She licked again, flatter this ti, tracing the underside.
"Fuck, Aria..." I groaned, my hips shifting involuntarily toward her. "Your mouth feels incredible. So soft."
She glanced up at , eyes wide and dark, lips glistening now. "Like this?" she whispered, her voice small but eager.
"Yeah," I said, guiding her head back down gently. "Now... open a little. Take the head in. Suck softly."
She parted her lips, sliding them over the tip—warm, enveloping wetness wrapping around . No teeth, just pure softness, her tongue cradling underneath as she sucked lightly, experintal. It was heaven—tight but gentle, her inexperience making every movent feel raw and real. She bobbed once, shallow, testing how much she could take.
I let out a low moan, my free hand gripping the sofa. "Just like that... slow. You’re perfect. Feels so good I can barely think."
Encouraged, she went again—deeper this ti, lips stretching softly around , tongue swirling absent but instinctive. Her mouth was a dream, slick and warm, pulling the tension out of stroke by stroke. She was new to it, pausing sotis to breathe or adjust, but that only made it better—the little breaks building the heat higher.
"Use your hand too," I murmured, voice strained. "Stroke the rest while you suck."
She did, her fingers wrapping the base, moving in sync with her mouth—up and down, slow and careful. The combination was electric, her soft palm gliding while her tongue pressed and swirled.
"You’re making crazy," I whispered, fingers massaging her scalp gently. "That mouth of yours... it’s killing in the best way."
She humd softly around —the vibration shooting through like a pulse—and kept going, gaining a little confidence, her rhythm smoothing out. Still gentle, still exploring, but damn if it didn’t feel like pure bliss.
She humd again, the sound vibrating through like a low current, her eyes fluttering half-closed as she sank into the rhythm. It was like she was getting lost in it—her movents less hesitant, more instinctive, her tongue exploring with a slow, curious hunger that made every nerve in my body light up.
Her mouth was so warm, so slick, wrapping around like it was ant to be there, her lips soft and plush as they slid up and down. She took deeper on each bob, not rushing, just feeling—the way her cheeks hollowed slightly with gentle suction, her tongue pressing flat and swirling in lazy circles around the head before diving back down.
I watched her, srized. Her hair fell forward, brushing my thigh, and her body leaned more into mine, warm and pliant against my side. She was breathing through her nose now, quick little inhales that matched the pace of her mouth, like the act itself was pulling her under.
A soft, muffled moan escaped her every few strokes, as if the taste, the feel of filling her mouth, was stirring sothing deep in her too. Her free hand rested on my thigh, fingers digging in lightly, like she needed to anchor herself as she got lost in the sensation.
"Aria... fuck, you’re incredible," I groaned, my voice thick, hand still gentle in her hair, guiding without forcing. "Look at you... getting into it. That tongue—God, keep doing that."
She responded with another hum, eyes lifting to et mine for a second—dark, hazy, full of that innocent heat—before closing again, surrendering to the mont. Her rhythm picked up just a touch, smoother now, her mouth gliding wet and tight, saliva mixing with the precum, making everything slicker, hotter.
She was exploring fully—tongue tracing veins, lips sucking a little harder at the tip before sliding down, taking as deep as she could without gagging. The way she paused at the base, just holding there in the warmth of her throat for a beat, nearly undid .
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