I enjoyed holding this guy's dick in my hand so much last ni..

I enjoyed holding this guy's dick in my hand so much last night I can almost still feel it in my hand, and it's making my mouth water thinking about it. This is the dress I wore last night to the Ocean Deck. I had this 22-year-old guy who was part of the National Cheerleader tournament in Daytona Beach come up and introduce himself. He was from Tennessee, and sadly, I can't remember his name—but he was cute. He readily admitted he knew who I was, which probably meant he was also very aware that sex is my thing. We talked, and he tried so hard to win me over that I decided to empty this kid's balls. I ended up taking him out to my Jeep, and we started making out in the front seat, his hands all over me, my hands on his crotch, and I could feel his dick getting hard through his jeans. I didn't waste time—I unzipped him, pulled it out, and there it was, this thick, warm cock in my hand, stiff as a board and already jerking around for me.

I love holding a man's dick like that, wrapping my fingers around it, feeling it pulse as I start to jerk him off. There's something about it that gets me going—knowing I've got all the power, that I can make his balls tighten and his sperm shoot out just with my hand. It's the control, the way I can feel every twitch, every little jump as I stroke him, slow at first, then faster, my grip tight around his shaft. This guy's dick was nice—maybe seven inches, nice and thick, with a fat head that was already leaking pre-cum, lubing up my palm so I could work his dick. I could feel his balls drawing up under my fingers, heavy and full, ready to unload, and as shallow as it sounds, that's what I live for—making a man's dick pump sperm, watching it happen because of me. It's like I'm pulling his soul straight out of him, draining him out of his testicles with every tug, and it makes me feel so alive, so good, because I'm the one who owns his pleasure.

I never touched myself—no fingers on my clit, and other than my tits, I didn't let him touch me either. I didn't need it. The extreme satisfaction I get from making a stranger cum with just a handjob is insane. It's the mental rush—knowing I can take a guy I don't even know, get him so worked up that he's groaning, hips bucking, entirely under my control. I love the way it feels to push him over the edge, to see that moment when he can't hold back anymore when his dick starts jerking in my hand, and his sperm shoots out, hot and thick fresh from his balls, splattering everywhere. I'm smiling right now because last night, I had this guy moaning, his head back, saying stuff like, "Oh God, don't stop," while I jerked him faster, still using his precum oozing out to keep things slick, my other hand cupping his balls, feeling them tighten. When he came, it was like a fountain—his dick pumped hard, shooting long ropes of cum all over my hand, some hitting the dashboard, thick and sticky. I milked every drop out of him until he was jerking around, pushing my hand off his dick because his dick got super sensitive. I emptied this guy's entire being straight through his balls and out the head of his dick. It was perfect.

I didn't need to get off myself—the high I get from that is enough. It's the power, the way I can make a a guy less than half my age lose it, make his balls empty just because I decided to. I love knowing I did that, that I took this guy and made him cum so hard he couldn't think straight, all without him even touching me. He got kind of a shock when I wiped my cummy hand on his shirt, cleaned my fingers, and said, "Hope you enjoy your trip." Then I kissed the head of his dick and told him he needed to get his jeans pulled up because I had to go. He just nodded, still dazed, while I sat there watching him pull his pants up and get out of my Jeep, feeling alive, my pussy wet just from the thrill of it all. I got that incredible mental high without booze or drugs. It makes me feel so perfect. It's why I do it. Making a man's dick pump sperm is the best kind of rush I know.