It’s been so long since I sucked a dick I think I might have forgotten how to do it.
I’ll reach out my hand towards the imaginary cock and recreate the warmth and specific softness of a burgeoning erection, heavy and magical in my palm.
To begin, I trace my thumb from the base up to the head, glistening in the harsh bedroom light. Then I’ll follow that same journey with the flat of my tongue and this will trigger his long exhalation of breath.
Then….. I purse my lips around the head, working spit and the very tip of my tongue into the slit at the top and he shudders again and maybe he’ll grab my hair, tell me that it isn’t nice to tease and that I’ll have to do better than that. I’ll open my pretty pink mouth wider, try and trick my gag reflex so I can swallow, swallow, swallow him down into my throat, into my chest and keep him there forever until I gag and breathing through my nostrils isn’t enough and he pulls out, a spit-drenched slab of meat and I want to swallow, swallow, swallow again.
His hand is on my forehead making me look up at him.
“Good girl. But you can do better.” And I can, I can! My tongue is slippery with come and saliva and my mouth is warm and inviting and it’s yours, it’s all yours to use however you want and he’ll hold me in place with that large, confident hand on my forehead with my eyes locked on his and he’s inside me once more, I am filled, every inch of me is now him and he’s fucking my mouth, still staring because he owns me, I am only his but I am only a hole that is slick and inviting, and gagging for air as he pistons into me, faster, harder, brutally.
On and on it goes and I want to feel him come but I imagine the emptiness as he exits my throat and I don’t want this to end.
“Fuck….” he’s breathing shallowly now, his hips jerking faster, he’s close, he’s going to let me swallow but then at the very, very last second he pulls out and my face is warm and wet and I am crying in anguish and he is crying in release and the room is so loud with the sounds of nothingness, when he smacks my come-covered cheek the sound cuts through like a butcher’s blade.
It all melts away and I am left lying in bed, tracing the pattern on my duvet cover as my heartbeat quells.
At least I haven’t forgotten it yet.
See what else is going down this Wicked Wednesday below!