You pulled up slick, grin full of trouble, eyes saying I know what you need, and I've got breath to match.

We skipped the soft talk, went straight to it; your lips hit skin like they had something to prove. Tongue like prayer, hands steady, you took me apart while the night watched through the blinds.

Then I spun you, dropped low, spoke fluently in every moan your body offered. No shame, just heat and hunger wrapped in rhythm and spit, us trading places till the whole room blurred.

Every inch worshipped, no shortcuts, just truth dripping from mouths made for confession. This? It wasn’t just head; it was understanding, shared breath, the kind of gospel that makes your knees weak and your spine remember.

After? We laughed, not like kids, but like royalty who’d tasted the crown and knew it was worth every word we never said.