I Knelt Between His Legs and Knew I Was His

Damián watched me from the armchair as if he already knew exactly what I was going to do. He was wearing that gray shirt I liked so much, barely unbuttoned, his firm chest on display. His legs were spread, his body relaxed against the cushions, but his eyes spoke to me without a single word. They said, “Come here.” And I always obeyed.

That night I was already burning before I crossed the door. I don’t know if it was dinner, the wine left unfinished in our glasses, or the charged silence filling that apartment with its high walls and low lights. Maybe it was all of it together. Or maybe it was simply him. The way he looked at me, as if I were a prize he had won. As if I were his best-kept secret, that craving no one else suspected. My panties were already soaked, and he hadn’t even touched me.

I approached without saying a word. The parquet creaked beneath my bare feet, and the sound seemed enormous in all that stillness. I knelt between his long legs on the rug, and from there I could already see his cock beginning to show through the fabric of his trousers, thick, outlined to one side, impossible to hide.

He didn’t speak. He simply rested his elbows on the armrests and let me do what I wanted. His eyes stayed fixed on mine, as if blinking would cost him something, as if he feared missing a single second of what was coming.

Look at me, I thought. Don’t stop looking at me while I suck your cock.

I savored him through his trousers first. I rested my cheek against his covered dick, slowly, feeling the heat rising through the fabric and the way it throbbed against my face. I placed little kisses over the zipper, slow, almost innocent, and then ran my tongue along the outline, wetting the fabric until every inch of him showed through. I craved direct contact, but I still denied it to myself. I wanted it to last. I wanted to feel his whole body tense while I took my time, to feel his cock grow even harder beneath my closed mouth.

I undid his belt with calculated slowness, making him suffer a little. I felt his breathing change, growing heavier, deeper. The click of the button giving way ran down my spine like an electric current. I lowered his trousers just a little, inch by inch, enjoying every impatient gesture he tried to conceal. The tip was already poking out, staining his briefs with a thick drop that made me squeeze my thighs together.

And then I saw it. Hard, thick, outlined beneath his underwear, throbbing to its own rhythm. A direct provocation that seemed meant only for me. And I knew it with a certainty that left my mouth dry: I had done that to him. His cock was hard as a rock because of me. Because of me.

“You’re incredible,” he said, his voice strained. “I don’t know how you do it.”

I didn’t answer him with words. I slid my fingers over his abdomen, following the line of hair that descended, and dragged his briefs down until he was completely exposed. His cock sprang free, hard, marked with thick veins, its red, swollen head gleaming with pre-cum. He let out a barely audible gasp when the cool air touched his skin. I looked at it. It was perfect: big, hot, alive, so thick that I swallowed just thinking about getting all that flesh into my mouth. So completely mine in that moment, as it could never be out there, in the world where we had to pretend to keep our distance.

I touched it with my fingertips first, gently, almost as if I were hesitating. I traced a thick vein from the base to the tip, and when I reached the top I ran my thumb over the head, spreading the heavy drop that had gathered there. He hissed through his teeth. But I wasn’t hesitating. I simply liked prolonging the wait, feeling the tension grow until it became unbearable for both of us.

I leaned in and kissed the base, right where his balls were drawn tight against his body. I lowered myself a little and licked them, one and then the other, sucking them carefully into my mouth while my hand gripped his cock and held it firmly, pointing upward. Damián let out a hoarse moan and muttered a curse under his breath. I released his balls with a wet kiss and moved upward, very slowly, my flat tongue pressed against him, sucking him all the way from base to tip as if he were an ice cream melting in my mouth. My tongue moved over his skin with a hunger I could barely contain. I felt his body tremble, the shudder beginning in his thighs and rising to his chest. His hand went to my hair, not to push me down, but to steady himself, as if he needed to hold on to something.

“Slow down,” he murmured. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

That was the idea.

I wrapped my hand around him, held him firmly, hot and throbbing against my palm, and looked up at him while I played with the tip against my parted lips. I ran the head across my mouth without taking it in, letting the fluid stick to my lips like an obscene gloss. He closed his eyes for a second and exhaled hard, biting his lower lip to keep quiet. But I wanted the noise. I wanted every sound he made, every curse, everything that escaped him without permission.

“Lucía…” he said, almost voiceless. “Put it in already, please.”

I didn’t answer. I opened my mouth wide and swallowed him in one motion, as much as I could take at once, until the tip touched the back of my palate and I felt a mild gag that I ignored. I held him there for a moment, savoring him, feeling him pulse heavily against my tongue, before I began to move. I went up and down at a slow, wet rhythm, completely devoted to the task. Saliva began to spill, running down my chin and dripping onto his balls, and I used it to jerk him off with my hand at the same time, twisting my wrist at the base while my mouth worked the upper part.

I heard him moaning softly, restrained, as if he still had some last scrap of modesty he refused to let go. But he couldn’t help it. Every time I swallowed him deeper, the sound escaped him without permission, an animal growl that made me squeeze my thighs with sheer pleasure.

I released him for a moment, leaving a thick strand of saliva between my lips and his skin, and licked him from base to tip before taking him back into my mouth, deeper this time, forcing my throat, swallowing him until my nose hit his belly. I stayed there for a few seconds, eyes watering, feeling him throb inside my closed throat, swallowing around him so he could feel it tighten. Damián breathed out a “fuck” so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. I wanted to give him more. I always wanted to give him more.

He arched against the backrest. His breathing was no longer controlled; there was nothing left to hide. I watched him with my mouth occupied, my cheeks hollowing every time I sucked, feeling powerful in a way that was difficult to explain. That man, so serious, so in control of himself everywhere else, was coming undone at my feet with his cock buried to the back of my throat. And it was my fault. Mine alone.

I felt myself soaking wet too, all the desire he stirred in me gathering between my legs until it became a pulse of its own. I took one hand down there, pushed two fingers into my pussy, and pulled them out dripping. I slid easily, without effort. I rubbed my clitoris with the wetness I had just drawn from myself, circling in tight motions. I sucked him with my mouth and touched myself at the same time, in perfect synchrony, as if the two pleasures were one. I moaned around his cock, and he felt the vibration; a long gasp escaped him.

More than desire, it was devotion. I can’t find another word. There was something almost sacred about kneeling before him, giving myself without asking for anything in return except to see him lose control, except to feel my mouth filled with his hard flesh.

That man drove me crazy. So proper in public, so measured, so unreachable in everyone else’s eyes. And yet I knew this other version of him: the one who trembled, who moaned my name in a broken voice, who surrendered with his cock dripping inside my mouth.

“Doll… wait,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking. “I’m going to come. I’m going to cum in your mouth if you keep doing that.”

I didn’t stop. On the contrary, I began to move faster, lips tight around him, my tongue working the underside of his head where I knew it drove him wild, while my hand moved firmly at the base. I let go of his cock for a second just to lick his balls again, then returned to the tip, sucking hard, hungry.

“Lucía… seriously… stop for a second,” he insisted, tugging lightly at my hair, although the pull was more a desperate caress than a command to stop.

But I kept going. I sucked hard on the tip now, hollowing my cheeks, one hand moving quickly at the base, the other massaging his balls, which had drawn completely tight against his body, my mouth growing more desperate by the second, never once taking my eyes off his face. I wanted to watch him. I wasn’t going to miss that moment for anything in the world.

There’s nothing more beautiful than watching a man surrender with his cock in your mouth.

I felt him explode. I pulled away just at the last instant and let him cum across my cheek, chin, and lips. The first jet streaked my face, hot and thick, and I opened my mouth just in time for the second to fall inside, onto my tongue. I caught the ones that followed on my lips and neck while I kept jerking him off, milking him for every last drop. He moaned long and deep, his whole body shaking, and I kept holding him, squeezing his cock from base to tip, feeling every hot pulse until the trembling finally faded.

When he stopped coming, I released him carefully. He was too sensitive, so I ran my tongue over him very slowly, almost tenderly, cleaning every drop left on his skin. Then I gathered the semen on my cheek with one finger and brought it to my mouth. I looked him in the eyes as I swallowed it, then showed him my empty, clean tongue. He loved that part. He liked leaving me like that, marked, smeared, his; I liked pleasing him, letting him know I accepted all of him, every last drop of his cum.

“Come here,” he said when he caught his breath. His forehead shone with sweat, and he wore a slow, satisfied smile. “It’s your turn. Now it’s my turn to eat that pussy of yours.”

“My turn?” I asked, pretending innocence, although I already knew exactly what he wanted, and I could feel myself running down my thighs.

“Sit on my face. I want to drown in you.”

I didn’t hesitate for a second. I took off my panties, which were already a soaked rag, and let them fall to the floor. I climbed onto the armchair, placed my knees on either side of his head, which rested against the backrest, and lowered myself slowly toward him. I felt his warm breath before his mouth, hot air striking directly against my swollen clitoris, and that alone drew a long sigh from me.

And he began.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured against me, his voice vibrating over my skin, his lips already wet with me. “You did all this to me by sucking my cock. You love doing this to me, don’t you, slut?”

I couldn’t answer. His tongue moved over me completely, slow and precise, from the opening of my pussy to my clitoris, drawing exact circles where I needed him most. Then he spread my lips with his fingers and pushed his tongue inside, fucking me with it while his nose pressed against my clitoris. I cried out softly, gripping the armchair, trying not to come right there. He played with me, alternating gentle kisses with firm suction against my clitoris, making me climb with his tongue working me quickly and then easing off just before I reached the edge, prolonging the delicious agony. He knew my body better than I did. He knew exactly when I was about to come and denied it to me on purpose.

His strong hands held my hips, fingers digging into my flesh, pressing me closer to his mouth, leaving me no way to escape. And I didn’t want to escape. I gave myself over completely, riding his face with an abandon that would have embarrassed me at any other time, moving against his tongue, rubbing my pussy over his mouth like a shameless woman. But not there. There, only the two of us existed, and this wordless language.

“Damián…” I gasped, gripping the back of the armchair. “Don’t stop. Suck me, suck me like that, don’t stop.”

He didn’t stop. On the contrary, he closed his lips around my clitoris and began sucking it hard, giving me no respite. At the same time, one of his hands left my hip, moved around behind me, and thrust two fingers into my pussy, curling them forward, searching for that exact spot that made me lose my mind. He moved them inside me at a steady rhythm, in and out, splashing through how wet I was. His other hand traveled up my belly and found one of my breasts, squeezing it and tugging my nipple between his fingers with just enough pressure to hurt a little. That combination—the mouth sucking my clitoris, the fingers fucking me, the hand punishing my nipple—finally broke me.

I felt pleasure building, growing from deep inside, unstoppable, felt my pussy tightening around his fingers. I arched, squeezed his head between my thighs, and shattered over him with a long, broken moan I made no effort to contain. I came in his mouth, soaking his chin, trembling all over, while he kept licking me slowly, drawing out my orgasm through the very last spasm.

I stayed trembling for a few more seconds, breathing unevenly, my legs weak, unable to hold myself up. Then I slid slowly downward until I was curled against his chest. He put an arm around me and kissed my forehead, and I sought his mouth to taste my own flavor mixed with his on his lips, that salty taste of what had just passed between us.

We stayed like that for a long while, in silence, listening to our hearts beat as they slowly began to calm. Outside, the city continued its distant murmur, unaware of everything. And I thought, as I had so many times before, that no one who saw him walking down the street in his immaculate suit could imagine what that man was capable of making me feel, or what I was capable of doing to him with my mouth.

That is our secret. His and mine. And I have no intention of sharing it with anyone except you, who made it all the way here reading.