He Yanked My Pants Down and Buried His Hungry Face Deep in My Crotch

We had been dancing around it for weeks — the loaded silences, the accidental touches that lingered too long, the way his eyes always dropped to my crotch when he thought I was not looking. I was leaning against the kitchen counter when he finally snapped. He crossed the room in three fast strides, dropped to his knees, and yanked my sweatpants down to my ankles before I could process what was happening. His face buried itself in my crotch with the desperation of a starving man, nose pressing into my pubes as he inhaled deeply, groaning at the scent of my musk. His mouth found my rapidly hardening shaft and he worshipped it through my briefs, soaking the cotton with his hungry spit before pulling the waistband down with his teeth. My cock sprang free and slapped against his cheek, and the look in his eyes was pure feral want. He swallowed me to the root in one motion, his throat opening effortlessly around my girth like he had been practicing on cucumbers for exactly this moment. I grabbed the counter behind me for balance as his head bobbed frantically, spit flying, obscene wet sounds echoing in the kitchen. He pulled off only to bury his face deeper, tonguing my balls, sucking each one into his warm mouth while stroking my spit-slicked shaft with both hands. Then back to swallowing, deeper each time, his nose pressed into my pubes with every thrust as he face-fucked himself on my cock with reckless abandon.