Page 4 of The Perfect Ingredient
His thighs brush against me and I press my palms flat against them. He’s looking at me like a man on the edge of death or sainthood, flushed and terrified.
He’shugeup close. His cock is straining so hard against the front of his pants it’s curving toward his hip, the outline of it thick and long and twitching under the fabric. I want to laugh and moan at the same time.
God, he’ssobig I could climb him like a tree.
I lower myself slowly, watching him the entire way, then I bring my face close to that massive bulge, feeling the heat seeping through the fabric, catching the clean-musky trace of his arousal.
I look up at him again.
“So, Jean… Are you going to let me help you?” I touch the hard line of his cock through his pants, feather-light. “Itismy fault, after all.”
A full-body tremor runs through him. I see it in the tense line of his thighs, in the white-knuckled grip of his fingers where they cling to the counter’s edge. I wait for his answer for exactly two seconds, because it’s notneeded, really. Not with his cock straining so hard against his pants it’s a miracle the fabric hasn’t torn already.
I undo his buttons slowly, each one revealing a bit more of the thick, pulsing outline beneath his underwear. There’s already a dark spot blooming at the front where he’s been leaking through it this whole time, and I lick it before tugging his underwear down.
When I free him, he practicallyspringsout, heavy and flushed and delicious looking, jumping the second the air hits it, slapping lightly against his belly. And he’sdripping. Thick and glistening pre-cum threading down the shaft, pooling heavy against the base.
It’s the most perfect cock I haveeverseen.
I let out a soft, delighted sound, and wrap a hand around it. He jerks slightly at the contact.
“Oh—” he gasps, voice high and startled. “Mon Dieu…”
“Easy, big boy,” I murmur, and then I wrap my lips around the head of his cock.
His hips jerk up in a sudden, instinctual thrust, and I have to plant both hands on his thighs to keep him from fucking my throat. A strangled groan tears out of him, followed by what I can only describe as the most delicious rambling.
“Mmmm—ahhh—merde, I—ohhh, ohhh non, wait—”
I love when they are vocal. It makes me feel like my sucking skills are truly exceptional (they are).
I answer with a moan of my own, taking him a little deeper, tongue tracing under the head, teasing the slit, letting the weight of him rest on my tongue.
He’s delicious.
“Ah—Ah hmmm je vais—”
He comes.
A thick jet of cum slams into the back of my throat, then another, and another—hot and salty andso much. He pushes my face and it hits my cheek, my lips, flinging blindly across my jaw, dripping down to my collarbone, even splashing over the counter when he shifts trying not to get it all over me. God help us, probably all over the pastries I made this morning.
He doesn’t stop.
There’sso much.
I swallow greedily, licking my lips, catching the taste where it clings, and I moan, purely from the pleasure of it. It’sdivine. Rich and warm like summer milk stirred into melted sugar.
I look up, completely in love with his taste. He’s panting, flushed and gorgeous.
“Mmm—oh God, oh God—sorry, I—I—ohhhh—”
I lick the amount of cum on my fingers. Tastes better than the cream I licked just a few minutes ago.
“Delicious.”
Jean just whines again.
And he’sstill hard.
