You brag about your prowess with your tongue. A gentleman doesn’t need to brag, but a lady might. You should know some things about my mouth. I am a pleaser, I love to get men off and I want to do it again as soon as I finish them. The more you enjoy it, the more I crave pleasuring. Men can tell, they have always followed me with their eyes, something in my smile I suppose. I have never been secret about this love, this desire to create ecstasy. It drips from my mouth without a sound.
I am a musician. My tongue is strong, coordinated and talented. My mouth could break you if I wanted to but I won’t. Maybe. What I will do with it, is make you beg. It’s my favorite composition. The opening strains begin as I take your cock in my mouth, running my tongue down the shaft. Gently I wrap my hand around the base and suck. I love to hear the catch in your breath the first time you feel the softness. I love to start with just the tip, and wait until I feel your hips edging forward trying to encourage me to take more.
I increase the depth, the pressure with each movement of my head. I love to get you close to the edge, thrusting more intensely with my hot mouth over your cock, and then change rhythm abruptly. Subito, suddenly without warning. A new tempo, a new key. Because I can, because then I hold sway over your strength. In my youth, I would leave boys and men at this place, begging with their eyes and throbbing bodies for me to finish. I loved that control, that power, knowing they needed me and I could deny it or grant it. Rarely did I grant it.
As a woman, I want you to show me what you want. What is the rhythm of your ecstasy? Can you show me your need without taking it? Can you balance being gentle and demanding with your hands? I can’t get enough when a man wraps his hands in my hair and helps me find the pulse. I like when you give me enough play to pause and continue, raising the pitch of
your pleasure.
Until the end, the coda, when your breath is coming in ragged gasps, the accelerando to the finale. I can feel the restraint in your fingers on my scalp, the gentleman in control but just barely. The subtleness of it makes me wet, makes me moan. It makes me want a hot throbbing cock inside me marching to the same drummer, full everywhere lips, pussy all. You have all that power, to make me choke and you don’t take it. It only makes me desire you more.
When you cum, I can’t suck it deep enough. I can’t taste it enough. I want it all to slide down my throat, like a salty oyster. Rare, and mine alone. I want to see your eyes close briefly, thanking all the higher powers of the world that I just sucked your cock. I want the smile that exclaims in prayerful gratitude, I can’t believe that just happened to me. I want your balls to feel drained in my hand. I want you relaxing under my lips, where I held you while watching your supplications. I want to see the dying strains of my song melt off your satisfied body, your head resting, barely able to rise.
And if I don’t do that, if I fail to properly compose my symphony, I will do it again. And again, until you are addicted to my come hither smile. Until you can’t see my tongue without thinking about how well I suck cock. I will keep trying until my mouth invades your every waking hour. I am a musician, by definition a perfectionist, and practice makes perfect. Do you know how musicians practice? They run little parts over and over until they can play it without error. Then place it into the whole. We call it woodshedding. I can practice on your cock like that. I can make it sing, vibrate and hum if you give me the chance.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/inigln/my_favorite_symphony_mf