I got my boyfriend into prostate milking with a delicate touch. The dim glow of candlelight flickered across the room, casting long shadows over the bed where James lay, his breath steady but expectant. I traced my fingers down his stomach, feeling the tension beneath his skin. We had talked about this moment for weeks, discussing boundaries and desires, but now that we were here, anticipation charged the air between us. We met months ago and starting having sex at his office. Turns out, he was more fun than I knew.
“Relax,” I murmured, pressing a kiss just above his hip. “Trust me.”
I reached for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand, warming a few drops between my fingers before trailing them lower. His thighs tensed at first, but a gentle touch, a whispered reassurance, and a slow rhythm eased him into submission. Prostate milking had always intrigued me, not just as an act of pleasure but as a way to deepen our connection.
As my fingers explored, I focused on the delicate process of prostate milking, ensuring that each movement heightened his pleasure. His body responded in waves, tension melting away as I worked with care and precision. He let out a quiet moan, the sound vibrating through me like a spark catching fire. “Am I still your hot fantasy sex girlfriend?” I asked. “Yes!” he said.
“How does it feel?” I asked, my voice smooth and steady. “Amazing,” he whispered. “Different… but really good.” Encouraged, I pressed a little deeper, finding the spot I knew would send ripples of pleasure through him. The moment I applied the right pressure, his back arched, his breath hitching as the sensation took over. Prostate milking wasn’t just about the physical act—it was about surrender, about letting go of preconceptions and embracing something new.
Each stroke, each careful motion, was deliberate. I watched as he gave himself over to the rhythm of prostate milking, his fingers gripping the sheets, his head tilting back in bliss. The connection between us felt electric, his body completely in sync with mine. I could see the shift in his expression—the mixture of vulnerability and overwhelming pleasure.
“You’re incredible,” he gasped, his voice rough with need. A slow smile spread across my lips. “I love watching you like this,” I admitted, never breaking the steady pace of prostate milking. “Completely lost in it.”
As the sensations built, I could feel the tension coiling in his core, his breaths coming faster, deeper. I leaned in, pressing soft kisses against his chest, grounding him in the moment. When the release finally came, it wasn’t just physical—it was something more profound, a breaking down of barriers we never realized existed. He lay still for a moment, catching his breath. Then, with a lazy grin, he reached for me, pulling me against his chest. “I don’t think I’ll ever see pleasure the same way again,” he murmured.
I kissed the corner of his mouth, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. “That’s the beauty of exploring together.” And in that moment, I knew this was only the beginning of our journey with prostate milking.
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