Crushin 2

Lily Larimar stretches on tiptoe inside the darkroom, her blonde ponytail brushing her shoulders. She eyes the racks of prints, then slips her fingers between them until she finds the one she wants: a man thick and hard. She takes it to the light, stares at the heavy balls hanging between his thighs, and her own thighs press together. The photographer’s taste is obvious; he chooses men who fill the frame the way he fills a lens. She decides the only way to see it properly is skin to skin. When Anton Harden finally returns, she is on her knees. He sets his camera down and lets her undo his jeans. His cock swings free and she catches it against her tongue, sliding it deep. He presses forward until her nose meets his stomach, then pulls back so she can suck one ball into her mouth. She rolls the other in her palm, feeling its weight shift. She pulls off just long enough to catch her breath, strings of spit linking her lip to his shaft, before leaning in again to lap at both balls at once. They move to the couch. Anton lies back, pulls Lily over him so her smooth pussy hovers above his face. He grips her ass and drags her down onto his tongue while she swallows him again. Every stroke of his mouth matches the rhythm of her throat. She reaches down, cups his balls and tugs gently, matching the pull of her lips. He spreads her wider with his thumbs, circles her clit with the flat of his tongue, and she moans around his cock. When he lifts his hips, pushing deeper, she swallows every inch, cheeks hollowed, while her fingers keep working his balls in gentle squeezes. The taste of him, the heat of him, fill her mouth; the sound of wet suction fills the quiet room. Neither speaks. They let hands, tongues, and throats say what words cannot.