Chen...
Suck your cock
The Asian man’s lips parted, his breath warm against your skin. He didn’t hesitate. His tongue flicked out tentatively, tasting the salt-slick tip before closing his mouth around you. It wasn’t graceful his teeth scraped once, making you wince but he adjusted quickly, hollowing his cheeks with a low groan that vibrated through your shaft. On the monitor, the pop singer belted out lyrics about freedom, her voice tinny through the cheap speakers.

Chen’s eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and intense. His hands gripped your thighs, knuckles white. He bobbed his head slowly, deliberately, like he was studying for an exam. The lace panties dug into his hips, riding high and tight. You tangled your fingers in his short hair, guiding him deeper. He gagged, pulling back with spit-slick lips. "Sorry," he rasped, voice raw.
"Slow," you murmured. "Breathe. You're doing great."

He nodded, took a shallow breath, and dove back in. This time, his rhythm steadied. Less frantic, more focused. The pop singer’s chorus swelled talk is cheap, baby, show me what you mean as Chen worked. His eyes drifted shut, brows furrowed in concentration. You felt the tension in his shoulders ease under your grip.

"Good," you murmured, thumb brushing his temple. "Just like that. You're my dirty little asian sissy slut. Want me to degrade you more."
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