Indian GF Deep Throat Swallows Every Drop

So, I’ve been thinking about that time with my guy—the indian deepthroat blowjob that completely rewired my brain—and I have to tell you about it because it’s still so vivid, even weeks later. We were in his cramped studio apartment, the fan doing absolutely nothing against the sticky evening air, but the real heat was building between us long before either of us said a word. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone, and I just got this urge to be close to him, to feel that electric tension snap. I walked over, slid my hands up his chest, and let my fingers toy with the waistband of his shorts, and the way his breath hitched told me he was already on board. I dropped to my knees on the cool tile floor, not caring about the dust or the weird stain in the corner, because all I wanted was him in my mouth. I started slow, teasing the tip with just the flat of my tongue, tasting that salty pre-cum and hearing him suck in air through his teeth, which only made me bolder. I took him deeper, inch by inch, feeling the stretch in my jaw and the way my eyes watered when he hit the back of my throat, but I pushed through that initial gag because his hands were fisting in my hair, guiding me with just enough pressure that I knew he was losing control. My own fingers worked the base, keeping the rhythm as I bobbed faster, my nose brushing against his stomach, and I could feel his thighs clenching under my palms. He moaned something low and desperate, warning me he was about to come, but I didn’t slow down—I wanted every bit of it. When he finally let go, flooding my mouth with that warm, salty release, I didn’t flinch; I just kept my eyes locked on his, swallowed everything he gave me, and licked my lips clean like it was the most natural thing in the world. He pulled me up, kissed me hard and sloppy, and we ended up on the floor, tangled and breathless, the ceiling fan finally cooling us off as I rested my head on his heaving chest.