One Handjob For Both Of Us

Kneeling before you, I tease and taunt you through your clothing.

I trace the bulge of your crotch with my curious fingers, glancing up to meet your eyes — hungry and wanting.

Licking my lips, I watch in fascination as you grow more aroused.

The anticipation in the air is electric when you unbutton your fly; it’s a sensation that we both feel.

I carefully open it and slide it down, slipping a hand inside to free your semi-hard member from its constraints.

With a dab of lube on my fingertips and pads of my hands rubbing it against the length of the shaft, I begin to massage it gently.

My hand tightens around it as the pressure builds, my other hand desiring its own pleasure.

Slipping beneath lace and satin, I discover something softer — alive with heat and warmth, wetness glistening on my fingertips as I stroke myself in tandem with the motions of my handjob.

Our pleasure mounts until we are both so close to orgasm.

The waves of pleasure crashing within crash through us both like a tidal wave and take us over the edge.