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Description

He takes your continued watching as permission, and then he is past asking.
Both hands tighten. Many long moments pass as he squeezes and strokes above you. The rhythm breaks. You hear his breath catch. His eyes close. His scent thickens the air. The floor still grounds you.

The first pulse hits his fingers. Then another. It spills over his grip and down, hot, aimed at you because you are what he was looking at. You feel his warmth across your face... and you can't resist moving your tongue along your lip to catch a taste.

A shuddering whisper.

"I can feel... "

A broken breath.

"you watching.."

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