It doesn't take long, and when it comes it's less a crash and more a soft fall. Eventually his breath catches hard, then harder, and his hands fly open, fingers spread wide, grasping aimlessly, mouth open and slack, nothing more coherent than a breathless groan. He can't keep from bucking into your mouth now, belly held hard, ass clenched tight, hips rolled forward, offering every little centimeter of his stout cock for your mouth that he possibly can.

He spills into your mouth, onto your tongue - flinching back, shivering forward, shuddering at the nick of your nails on his legs, the nudge of your teeth against his cock. He's got nothing left to spend when he's done, wrung dry, heart pounding, head dizzy.

"...Shingo." He whispers.