"You want to come on my hand?" Dorian asked, his voice a low growl. "You want to paint the sink with your c*m, mark it with your scent?"
His words were filthy, dirty, but they only made me harder. I nodded frantically, too far gone to care about anything but chasing that high.
Dorian chuckled darkly. "Good boy," he praised. "Come for me, then. Show me how much you need it."
His hand became a blur of motion, stroking me from base to tip with quick, hard pumps. The pleasure crested suddenly, crashing over me like a tidal wave. I cried out, my c**k pulsing as I came hard.
Thick ropes of c*m splattered across the sink, some of it dripping down onto Dorian's hand. He didn't stop stroking me, working me through the aftershocks until I was spent and trembling.
When he finally let go, I slump
