[ he's not really thinking anymore. not in any coherent sort of way. he forgets himself; his thoughts are all need and want. too many sensations at once — the sharp but pleasurable way she pulls at his hair. the feeling of fluid, more fluid, she's so wet and it's because of him. pressure from her leg over his shoulder, something heavy but warm.
he feels lightheaded and is fully aware of why. the reason is tightening in his pants.
speaking of that, he's still trying. trying to rub through the fabric, but it's too thick. the feeling is too indistinct. frustrating more than it is relieving. so he has to one-handedly unbutton and unzip, actions shaky and delayed because of his split focus. but he manages. his hand finds its way down under his pants and his underwear and it's such a relief. water in a desert. it would feel even better if he weren't determined to keep his pants at least mostly on, but he's still trying to maintain restraint on that front.
before he can stop or control it (if he even had the mental awareness to), he moans his own moan. maybe she wouldn't hear it, muffled as it was. or feel it. he tries to make up for the lapsed seconds by going even harder with the tongue strokes.
in the back of his mind, buried in the part that's dulled out and muted, he knew he'd been planning to get her off as quickly as possible. in and out, "favor" done. but now ... he wanted to drag it out. just a little longer. just until he could get his. ]
no subject
he feels lightheaded and is fully aware of why. the reason is tightening in his pants.
speaking of that, he's still trying. trying to rub through the fabric, but it's too thick. the feeling is too indistinct. frustrating more than it is relieving. so he has to one-handedly unbutton and unzip, actions shaky and delayed because of his split focus. but he manages. his hand finds its way down under his pants and his underwear and it's such a relief. water in a desert. it would feel even better if he weren't determined to keep his pants at least mostly on, but he's still trying to maintain restraint on that front.
before he can stop or control it (if he even had the mental awareness to), he moans his own moan. maybe she wouldn't hear it, muffled as it was. or feel it. he tries to make up for the lapsed seconds by going even harder with the tongue strokes.
in the back of his mind, buried in the part that's dulled out and muted, he knew he'd been planning to get her off as quickly as possible. in and out, "favor" done. but now ... he wanted to drag it out. just a little longer. just until he could get his. ]