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Truth is, I don’t really do blow jobs. Well not as a matter of course, it is not the main item on the menu. I can never make up my mind if I really enjoy it or not.
Depends on a lot of things; to start with, and I suppose to finish with, he has to be clean. Not carbolic soap; can you imagine the taste of that in your mouth? No just fresh, out of the shower, that type of thing, just the slightest whiff of genitals, enough to arouse, not choke.
And my mood. I sometimes get the whim then back off for a host of reasons that I have never really been able to figure out. I can’t look at him and then go down on him, maybe I need to suspend reality, pretend he is someone else. The thought makes me tingle, who am I imagining him to be?
I think because I am Catholic, not practicing, but had enough drummed in through childhood and my teens to build a wall between my actions and my sexuality. Every time he tries to go down on me, I see the damn Priest. Not that the Priest ever took us to one side and told us anything; no one told us anything, it wasn’t discussed. Maybe that is the problem. If we had been more open about sex maybe, I could just enjoy doing this without the feeling of doing something wrong.
I am enjoying it, now I’ve got into it. I love the way he twitches as my tongue runs over the slit, he’s really sensitive there, I wonder if all men are. Can’t do too much of that because he starts pushing, wanting to get deeper into my mouth.
I’ve never understood how some girls can take it all the way in. I’ve seen them do it on the internet. Most of the time they look like their choking, finding it so hard to breath there is snot blasting from their noses. It’s not cum is it? No can’t be. I’m sure I would be sick if it went that far in, büyükçekmece escort couldn’t help myself.
No, I prefer a less frantic approach, as long as I’m in the mood. I prefer just taking the head in, letting it briefly fill me and pull out again, running my tongue around and across it. Sometimes I like to just lick it like a lollypop before the urge takes me and I need it in my mouth, but never far. When it enters my body, it had better be between my legs, where we can both enjoy its length and movement.
Poor love, he is having such trouble keeping it up. Not now, now, my tongue is turning him on like nothing on earth; he loves this, when I push my tongue back against his flesh, massaging it, pushing it around my mouth. No, I mean straight sex, he’s ok at the foreplay, gets me worked up, and then as soon as he is in, he starts to soften. Gets leg cramps, starts thinking he’s not going to be able to finish and that’s it. Vicious circle. He can’t do it, so he can’t do it. So I thought I’d give him a blow job, see if that can shock him out of what ever it is that is stopping him performing.
He has a nice dick. Actually I find men’s dicks really quite repulsive, it’s not really a thing of grace is it? I mean, it sticks out, there’s no mystery to it, it’s there, on display, better to get it tucked away somewhere it can do some good. I like to touch this one though. I like taking it in my mouth when it’s all little and feel it grow. How many times must he have thought he was going to get a blow job when all I really wanted to do was the sensation of it growing in my mouth, get it wet just so he can slip it in me easier. I’m quite tight, he’s not especially big, but it slips in easier when I wet it first.
He often tries to wet me, go down on me. I love feeling his tongue down there; that is when I’m not racked with worry over what he is doing. fatih escort It is stupid because I really do enjoy it, but I’m always thinking I smell, even though he says he loves my smell, or, I see that damn Priest. I wish I’d been more relaxed about it, it’s nice to feel him lapping away down there, poking away at my lips and clit with his tongue delving in and out, and I’ll tell you a secret, when he’s had enough, and comes up for air to kiss me, I just love the smell on his moustache, the taste on his lips. I suppose that is why I play with myself so much, so I can lick my fingers. I wonder if he would like to watch me play with myself, maybe that will keep him stiff for a few minutes.
When I see a woman in the street and we catch each other’s eyes, you know that look, you just wonder what would happen if you talked with her. I think about going down on them, wondering what I would find, hairy or shaved, sweet or bitter. I’m sweet, thick clear sweet juices, most of the time anyway, depends what time of the month it is. Once he went down on me near my period, said I tasted tangy, metallic. Sure enough, when he fucked me, out it came stained with my blood. That was kind of exciting, I somehow felt closer to him knowing he had tasted that.
He’s getting excited, beginning to pump into my mouth, back off, just keep the head popping in and out. If he gets too close, use your teeth, just to cool him off, I want to take my time over this, enjoy him properly. If this is the closest I’m going to get to being fucked for a while, I’m going to make the most of it. I love the touch of him, fingers tightly ringed working him gently up and down. He likes it when I wank him and I like watching him spurt, feeling the hot wetness of him on my hand. He tastes a little bitter, though that depends what he’s been eating. Today, he tastes nice; though we haven’t started the main course esenyurt escort yet, just some little dribbling.
I remember the first time I did this. We had a great lunch, drunk far too much wine and pulled off the road into some scrub bushes. I went straight for it, just wanted to feel him in me and the car was too small to start playing gymnastics. I was bobbing up and down on him when he suddenly said stop, there’s someone watching, and sure enough, there was some creep in the bushes hanging around wait to catch someone at it.
Still it was nothing like that place we discovered outside Aostia, near Rome on the coast; the condom tree. It was about fifty metres off the road, a shaded glade you could drive under. Everywhere you looked there were condoms hanging of the branches. Really freaked us out, we reversed out of their with our tails between our legs. I was so fucking sexy, thinking of all the people that had been fucking there, that I wanted to get straight back to the campsite and fuck his brains out, but when we got back, the others had arrived. I remember him bringing me off with his hand while I lay on my tummy talking with the others; he’d worked his way into my shorts and gently stroked his finger in and out as I lay there, leaving it in me so I could work my muscles against it then slowly pulling it out and just as slowly pushing it back in again. The tension of laying there being finger fucked with everyone else around not having a clue of what he was doing to me was just astonishing. How I kept still or the others didn’t notice, I will never know. He had such a surprise later when he went down on me and found I had shaved off my pubes in the shower as a kind of reward for him. Christ we had some good sex that night.
It is memories like that, what we have shared, that make me want to help him over this little problem. Now you go away, let me concentrate on my sucking and stroking. I want to feel him lose control, to fill my mouth, don’t want you in my head. He’s nearly there now, maybe if I just finger his bum. Yes, that is what he wanted. Fill me my love, fill me until I overflow.
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