I’m his undoing.
His gasping, panting, shouting undoing.
“I’m coming,” he moans. “If you want me to—”
“Swallow,” I mumble around his dick. Not sure if he understands because he pulls out.
“I said I’ll swallow, Naz,” I rasp, my throat literally aching from how hard he fucked it.
“I want to come on your face,” he gasps, his voice a dark rumble as he searches my expression. It’s as if he’s discovering something about himself in the depths of my eyes.
“Then come on my face,” I tell him, not hesitating. “Whatever pleases you will please me, Naz.”
And it does. As thick streams of his cum splatter my face, I lick my lips, savoring the salty flavor of him. Groaning my deepest pleasure as he dips to spread it over my throat and shoulders. It sluices between my breasts and anoints my nipples. The whole time, my fingers are busy in my bikini bottom, rubbing my clit and burrowing my fingers inside myself. I can barely stand on my knees when the orgasm hits. It’s like a volcano, him spewing all over me, and me exploding within. I tip my head back, dry sobs ripping from my throat.
“You are so fucking beautiful like this,” he groans, gripping my hair to tip my head back so our eyes lock. He places his dick at my mouth and, like an artist, paints the bow with the wet, salty tip.
“Thank you,” I choke out, and I mean it.
Some might feel degraded on their knees where anyone could walk by and see him coating me with his release. My breasts are bared to him, and my face, throat, and torso are soaked in long ribbons of his cum. I may be on my knees, but as he looks at me with something approaching awe and uses his finger to scrawl the three letters of his name in the cum on my chest, I feel lifted. I’m floating as the perfectly chiseled lines of his face fold into an agony of need. His composure lies in tatters at my feet.
I’m a fucking goddess. And this was an act of worship.