The blindfolded taste of lust-3

The man had been building up this load for a week, had thought about it, had imagined how his balls would tighten, his prostate would contract and his rich semen would gush out in spasms from his head. It did. He stroked himself slowly, feeling what would become his orgasm build and grow throughout his entire body, every stroke of his hand on his very hard and very wet cock brought him this much closer, like noise caressing his being from the inside, stronger and stronger, his cock, his beautiful head covered and uncovered by his foreskin, bringing him an indescribable pleasure until the shattering explosion he translated into a grunt, a man’s ecstatic grunt as deep inside him his cum was being milked out and gushed into a first warm stream on this husband’s pleading tongue.

He felt it vaguely, through underwater depths it seemed, a distance between the sensation of another man’s cum coating his tongue, and himself. An abstract distance separating him from his wife’s gasp as it shot out. It was warm, thick. It was real. And then another stream, as strong as the first, and another. It’s only halfway through, after four or five spurts, that he came back to himself found himself bound to that moment, of a fifth shot of cum landing straight in his mouth. He was there, now, and what surprised him the most, finding himself there, living this for real, what he hadn’t ever really imagined when looking at it happening to others, was the wetness of it. Cum. A bodily fluid, body temperature, bodily odor, bodily taste, and this came from another man’s orgasming body. Cum. He was taking in his mouth another man’s wetness, he was feeling it on his tongue, on his lips. and though the thought wasn’t clear, nor formulated that way, he wanted nothing more at that moment than for this cock, this man to cum like he never came before, to fill his mouth completely, without remorse. He counted five spurts, but how many had there been before he came to himself? He hadn’t even felt the first contact.