No fingers.
Never touch.
No one else.
Just lips and chests and hard muscles.
Never hands.
Hands would impart too much, neither brain could handle the influx.
Lips trailing wetly across smooth skin, tiny groans of pleasure.
"More," he begs, in that curiously flat voice of his. You were complying before he even voiced the thought. Sucking lightly at the head, prodding with the tongue. Just what he wants, *exactly* what he wants, because you *know*. How could you not?
How do others manage, in their narrow worlds, to give each other pleasure like this? How would one even know if they could begin? The insight and thought needed; your imagination exhausts you.
He whimpers, and hot come fills your mouth. Never unexpectedly. You followed along on the crest, and semen is cooling on your belly. You both lie back on the sheets and stare at the ceiling, side by side, two by two...