Such strength and grace, and you can’t help but imagine them on your skin as you watch him touch himself. He knows what feels good. Tactility, variance of pressure, of contact, fingers stroking, pulling, rubbing, caressing… the flat of his palm against his groin, reaching lower to cup and squeeze, and he asks, do you like what you see, baby girl?
His words and voice in tandem with the administrations of his long fingers is a powerful combination. The glint of gold, a road map of life experience across their backs. You want to follow them, those roads. The desire drips out of him as he pleasures, pulls, squeezes. He asks, where do you want it? On your lips, after I kiss you? Sliding between those magnificent breasts? Where? Slapping your clit? and he demonstrates, sending droplets flying, shining – Sliding into your delicious cunt? Say it for me, lover. Let me hear you say it.
Does he see as much in your hands, in your fingers as they slip over and into that cunt? Is his desire genuine or simply of the moment? You wonder if the cum he’s now milking with that same gentle unrelenting touch is because of you and what he’s thinking of doing to, with… for you right now.
His voice fades into a background murmur, and when you close your eyes and slide beneath the surf you can, for an instant, taste his bitter salt, feel him stretch you, hear the music of his voice in your ear; in this moment, you know he sees everything.