Mesmerized Boy Blown

He sits locked down. Wrists strapped, head tilted back, black hair hanging over his eyes. The rope bites his skin, but his cock stays hard and bare, skin stretched tight over the cut head. She drops to her knees and takes him in one slow swallow, tongue pressed flat under the shaft. The camera dips in close, pulls back, spins. Light bends. The room warps. Each suck comes with a wet pop that lands somewhere between his hips and yours. Sound folds in on itself. You start to feel the warm tug in your own throat. Her spit trails down the rope around his thigh and your leg twitches in answer. Every time she pulls off, his cock glistens, slick and pulsing, waiting for the next dive. She edges him hard, slows right when his balls start to pull, then slams back down until his hips fight the restraints. Your pulse climbs with his. The spiral stays behind your eyes. You forget whose cock is in whose mouth. You just know it’s wet, tight, and keeps stopping a breath short of letting anyone finish.