You only feel a little bit guilty for touching him like this. And if you were completely honest with yourself, you're not sure that you feel even that.
Because he feels so good underneath your hands. Writhing like that, moaning like that.
Like whatever it was that you were doing was the best fucking thing he'd ever felt and he was going to kill you if you stopped.
You do though, and he pushes himself up to glare at you.
The one that clearly says that if he wasn't completely naked and hard to the point of pain he would use that hand of his to rip you a new orifice.
You'd only done it to see his reaction in the first place though. To make sure that those were moans of assent and pleasure and not protest.
Given your answer you wrap your lips around his cock again and he arches back on a choked wail, furred hand scoring into the mattress as the normal one finds it's way into your hair.
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