My First Blowjob

He stands close, his hand landing on your shoulder--solid, hot, pressing through your shirt. His shadowed fingers curl, steady but gentle, guiding you down with a weight that sends a shiver up your spine. Your knees hit the cool, hard floor, the jolt grounding you as your breath catches, quick and shallow, a nervous flutter in your throat. Your hands shake, hovering near his waist.

Your fingers stumble at his jeans, the metal button cold under your touch. It slips once, your pulse racing, then pops free with a sharp click that cuts the silence. The denim resists as you tug it apart, the zipper rasping down, tooth by tooth, loud as your heart pounds. You pull the jeans lower, fabric scraping his hips, and your unsteady thumbs hook into his boxer shorts. You drag them down, slow, cotton snagging on his skin--first the coarse hair at the base, prickling your knuckles, then the broad root of him, deep-toned and veined, solid as it emerges. Your chest tightens, breath hitching, as the boxers slide further, the shaft unfurling, dense and long, until they slip past the tip. It springs free, swaying in front of your face, full and firm, the swollen head smooth and glistening in the dim light.

Your hands settle on his thighs--taut muscle under dark skin, close against your palms--as you lean in. Your lips part, hesitant, your tongue darting out to graze the tip, smooth and salty, before sliding down to the underside, warm and ridged with veins. His hand shifts--easing to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, gentle but sure, pulling you closer. "Yeah, like that," he murmurs, voice deep and smooth, slicing through your nerves.

Your lips widen as you take the head in, the slick crown slipping past your teeth, filling your mouth. It sits full on your tongue, pressing down as you draw on it, tentative at first, then stronger, a soft glugg escaping as spit pools. You tighten your lips, teeth brushing before you adjust, your jaw straining. You slide deeper, the bulk crowding your mouth, pushing against your palate, salt sharpening on your tongue. Your hands clutch his thighs, fingers digging in, as you move up and down, slow and uneven at first, spit gathering fast.

You pull off briefly, lips dragging, a wet string snapping as you tilt your head to catch your breath, then dive in again, taking him further. Your tongue traces the shaft's side, slick and warm, feeling the veins pulse. Your jaw burns, aching now, and you suck too hard--his hips jerk, a low hum escaping him. You soften your pull, lips relaxing, and slide deeper still, the head nudging your throat's edge. A wet gurk spills out as you gag, eyes watering, spit trailing down your chin. You pause, swallowing hard with a trembling hand swiping your mouth, then push forward, finding a steadier rhythm.

He groans, low and rich, his hand firming in your hair--not forcing, just holding. "Good--keep going," he says, a steady rumble. You move faster, your tongue circling the head, then sliding along the shaft's side, feeling it throb. "You're doing fine," he adds, voice calm, grounding you. You keep at it, lips tight around him, the fullness stretching your mouth, a thick glugg choking out as spit soaks everything, your tongue pressing flat against him, warm and wet.

His breathing quickens--ragged, catching in his throat. His fingers tug softly in your hair. "I'm ready," he says, voice tight. You feel it--the twitch, the tension--and you lean in, eager, moving quicker, lips sliding fast over him, a frantic sluck filling the air as you take him deep, throat straining, spit dripping fast. Your jaw screams, but you push through, speeding up, tongue lashing the underside as he stiffens. "Now," he says, and you pull back slow, lips sliding off, the wet pop sharp as the head slips free, swaying full in front of your face. He grips himself--dark fingers wrapping the shaft, stroking fast--and you hold still, breath trapped. He cums--hot, broad, blasting across your face. It splatters your cheek first, then streaks your lips, a third hitting your open mouth, coating your tongue with its salty load. It drips, sticky and slow, down your chin, and he looks down at you, a quiet smile softening his face, eyes warm as he shudders.

You kneel there, hands on his thighs, face wet and hot, spit and cum streaking your skin as his breathing levels above you.