Variations on a Theme, or some of the places I’ve enjoyed the taste of him [MF]

Twice in those parking lots by the office. Once down that side street by his place. At least twice while he was actively driving, but I suspect it’s been more.

To me, it’s “head” or generally sucking if it’s not to completion. “Blow job” implies orgasm and cum, though I dislike the implication of obligation that “job” lends.

Once from the ground by the sofa while he dozed (all the other sofa instances have been fully conscious). Twice in that tiny twin bed at his friend’s house. Twice, quickly, behind closed doors while family parties ensued on the other side.

Sometimes he makes wry comments about how much I like to suck cock. No sir, I take issue. All the admiration to you men and women who generally love the thought of any cock in your mouth–damn, the world is your…well, oyster doesn’t seem quite right here, but you know what I mean.

That’s not me. I don’t long for any cock in my mouth, at least not right now. I want his, and I want it to completion, and it’s making me think of some of the places where this has happened.

Once very quickly the other morning, before anyone else really noticed we weren’t out of the room yet. A few times this past camping trip, though to be clear, I am not counting any instances of 69 here. Just my mouth on his cock and his cum down my throat.

One time, right after we stepped through the door at his place, he swung me around into the door frame of the kitchen and pushed me back and down, my back against the narrow strip of wall and my legs barely balancing me in a squat around his calves, and he quickly unzipped and pushed his cock into my mouth.

It was hot enough, those swift movements and raw urgency. But the wall prevented my head from moving, and he pushed in harder until I couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t slide down any more. I was pinned like that, held up against the door frame by his cock, feeling him growing wider and deeper into my throat.

But, just like the time I strapped him to my bed and pressed my foot into his throat to keep him still, he didn’t cum in my mouth. He moved on to my pussy in those instances.

I suppose that makes it foreplay, though it really doesn’t sound like the foreplay stuff I learned about in sex ed. There was nothing in there about playing golf, having an argument, and then being restrained so your favorite cock could fuck the rest of that negative energy out into your ass while you try to fight and squirm away. This is where the obvious foreplay/hole in one jokes belong.

Perhaps all those sex ed teachers wanted to leave us a few surprises to discover on our own. They may have referred to “make-up sex” in more progressive courses, but I sure didn’t see anything about angry sex or argument sex or “forceful fucking while getting the occasional backhand across the face” sex.

Or maybe it was mentioned in class, but I just dismissed it because I thought it never happened in real life. Certainly I never would have imagined I would like it, or cum to it.

Once, briefly, in the kitchen, when I was all nervous about a thing and he could see it and knew that commanding me to my knees and onto his cock would do the trick. Ah, blowjobs, the mindfulness exercise of the secretly slutty.

It feels silly to enumerate these, like a trophy case or some kind of bragging rights. I don’t feel like I can truly brag anyway because I have a few more locations in mind: the roof of the office. A public washroom. Relatives’ houses. A boat. Additional continents. The back of an Uber.

Tonight, without him, I’m less adventurous and more needful on a basic level. I want to feel the hardness and the heat of his cock. I want the smell and the taste of the day from his skin, right up close to me to breathe and lick and recognize. I want to press a finger into his ass and hear him gasp and feel the response in his cock, and gently glide my thumb over his balls and work all three pressure points at once, feeling his ass and cock and balls contract together as he shoots his cum into my mouth.

It doesn’t have to be anywhere creative. I just want him, in this bed, right now.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/9ddzln/variations_on_a_theme_or_some_of_the_places_ive

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