The Written Word

No this what was going to his soul to leave his body entirely. Goosebumps ran across his skin, the salty bead of his arousal having had the chance to re-build before Ruth's mouth had closed over him. Faelyn looked like some sort of touchable painting, the way the light gleamed on his skin, his hair, turning into a tangible, ethereal being. One that trembled slightly under hand. 

I don't care who. Whoever you see fit. Just don't stop. his words were slightly strangled again, his cock giving telltale twitch of a man worked up further than he knew what to do with.