Am parte de futaiul perfect și dur sugându-l peste încărcătură

I take my time, letting my lips barely graze him, watching the way his breath catches, the way his fingers twitch like he's holding himself back. I love the way he tenses under my touch, aching for more, but I'm in no rush—I want him to feel every second of this, to know that I'm in control. A slow lick, a soft moan, and then I pull away just enough to leave him wanting. He groans, his patience wearing thin, and that's exactly what I want—to drive him to the edge, to make him desperate, until he finally gives in and takes exactly what he needs.