I sucked cock for more than an hour. Though the two of us barely spoke, an entire conversation was compressed within the blowjob. I said hello. I explained what a shitty day I had at work. I told him with my eyes how much I needed this. Deep sniffs at the penis and scrotum and the hitch in my breathing communicated desire. Lips and tongue and throat let him know how much I adored him. The attitude of my head and gaze confessed submission and conveyed my trust. His body warmth radiated onto me.
On occasion, he took control. He pulled my hair. He slapped my face. He questioned the depths. Desperate to keep up, I emitted liquid sounds from the back of my throat. Saliva left the carpet damp. For the most part he let me operate at my own pace. During long passages, I left the penis lying flat, its head stretching for his abdomen, while I licked and kissed the underside and lipped his balls and touched my fingers softly down his length, down to the perineum and his anus.
I expressed gratitude for his allowing me to pleasure him in this manner, for hands over my body, for fingertips that pinched the nipples and lowered to my cunt, for the light scratch of nails over my scalp and the weight of the palm set atop my head. I watched the parade of emotions that traversed his face and listened to the sounds of his enjoyment. I tasted the shifting flavors: the precome, the mug of tea I sipped to make my mouth hot for him, the coating of sweat, the texture of his sac, the viscid semen at the end, his kisses cleansing the palate.
I find the sublime in the quotidian.
This is why I suck.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3kbckn/the_simple_and_the_sublime_mf
Well put. Thanks for the telling.
Superb. Thank you.