Pressure builds

Ruby’s pace stays masterful even as the intensity climbs. She takes you deeper on every stroke now, the thick shaft disappearing between her stretched lips until her nose presses flat against your stomach and she holds herself there, throat working in slow swallows that massage the head. When she rises it is only to gasp once, spit connecting her bottom lip to the glistening length, before she sinks back down with renewed purpose.

The talking continues between those long, wet descents, her voice rougher now, the frustrations with her husband spilling out in shorter, more urgent fragments.

“He never makes me feel like this. Never looks at me like he would die if he could not get inside me. I am so tired of being polite. Tired of going to sleep untouched. I want to be used. I want to feel someone lose control because of me.”

Every confession tightens the coil at the base of your spine. The solidarity of two people starved of the same thing has your cock harder than it has ever been, the full 8.5 inches throbbing heavily against her tongue, precome flowing freely enough that she has to swallow around it. Her free hand cups and rolls your balls with perfect pressure, timing the squeeze to the rhythm of her mouth so that each deep take pushes you closer.

You feel the release building in heavy waves. Your breathing turns rough. Your hips start to shift despite her earlier control, the need to thrust into that skilled heat becoming almost impossible to fight. Ruby feels it too. She doubles her efforts, sucking harder, taking you to the root and staying there longer, eyes locked on yours with open hunger while the wet sounds of her work fill the quiet living room.

The pressure crests past the point of easy control. Your cock swells even thicker against her tongue, the first warning pulse already starting at the base. Ruby pulls off just far enough to speak, lips brushing the hypersensitive head, voice low and certain.

“I want you to…”