Needs

Ruby pulls back just enough to look at you properly. Her eyes are dark, the usual calm replaced by something open and almost shy, yet the hunger underneath is plain.

“Can I please suck your cock?” she asks, voice quiet and earnest. “I have wanted to since the first week we met. Every staff social, every late corridor conversation, every time you adjusted yourself under the desk when you thought no one was looking. I used to go home and think about what it would feel like to get on my knees for you. My husband never needs me like that. I want to taste you. I want to feel how heavy you are on my tongue. Please.”

The way she says it, soft and direct, with that mix of innocence and raw want, leaves no room for the careful refusals you might have managed an hour ago. You do not say no.

Ruby needs no further invitation. She slips off the sofa onto her knees between your legs, hands already working your belt open with steady fingers. The button and zip follow. She hooks into the waistband and draws everything down just far enough for your cock to spring free, thick and fully hard from the long stretch of talking and her tracing hands. The full 8.5 inches stands heavy in the low light of the living room.

She stares for a moment, lips parting.

“God. You are bigger than I pictured. Thicker.” Her voice stays soft, almost reverent. “I am going to take my time. I want to feel every inch.”

She leans in and runs the flat of her tongue from the base all the way to the head in one long, slow stroke, collecting the bead of precome that has already formed. Then she opens wider and sinks down, lips stretching around the shaft, taking you deeper in careful increments until the head nudges the back of her throat. She holds there, breathing through her nose, eyes flicking up to yours, before she begins to move.

The rhythm she finds is unhurried and thorough. One hand wraps the base she cannot yet fit, stroking in time with the bob of her head. The other rests on your thigh for balance. Wet sounds fill the quiet house as she works you with focused attention, cheeks hollowing on every upward pull, tongue pressing along the underside. Spit begins to gloss the length of you. She does not rush. She treats the act like something she has been waiting years to do properly, sinking deeper on every other stroke, testing how much of the thick cock she can take, soft hungry noises vibrating around you whenever she manages another inch.

Whenever she pulls back for air she keeps talking in that same earnest, filthy register, lips brushing the wet head.

“I used to watch your mouth when you talked at socials and wonder what it would feel like to have it on me. Then I started wondering the opposite. What you would taste like. How heavy you would feel on my tongue. My husband is polite and average and finished before I ever get close. You feel like the opposite of polite. You feel like something I could choke on and still ask for more.”

She sinks down again, taking more this time, the stretch of her lips tight around the shaft, until her nose brushes your stomach and she stays there, throat fluttering, eyes watering slightly at the corners yet never looking away. When she finally rises it is only to gasp once and immediately return, sucking harder, the hand at the base twisting on every stroke, the athletic body between your knees coiled with pure concentration.

The earlier release with Cheryl has not dulled anything. If anything the focused, willing heat of Ruby’s mouth has you harder than before, the thick length throbbing against her tongue while she keeps the same deliberate pace, determined to take every inch she can and savour it. The perfume of her skin mixes with the wet sounds of her work. The quiet house stays sealed around the two of you. Ruby stays on her knees, innocent eyes and hungry mouth, earnest dirty talk still spilling out between long, deep strokes, and she shows no sign of stopping until she has pulled every possible reaction out of the cock she has wanted since the day you met.