To Completion
Newspaper in hand, silence above, devotion below
The doorbell snaps me from my daze. I open. You enter silently, shoes on, sink into the armchair. You open your newspaper. I kneel between your thighs. Seconds later, my lips glide down your hardening length. You read, but your breath hitches faintly. I push deeper, wetter, hungrier. At last you murmur: “To completion.” Your hand presses my head firmly down. I’m soaked. I obey. Thick taste flood my mouth, you groan. I swa...
