I rest in wait for you. Empty warm and open, silently begging to be filled, the same way a bucket begs for water: by being.
I beg for the chance to throw wide the gates of my lips, and welcome you. I beg for the length of your cock sliding in across my tongue and deeper still, as you paint my uvula with precum. I beg for you to press yourself inside, so that my nose may be buried in the gently brambling pubes and musk blooming from your groin.
I beg for both your hands on my head reminding me that I am not my own, but yours. I beg for you to make wet and sticky messes in and on me as you please. I beg to be the vessel where my submission, with each thrust, is churned into your satisfaction. I beg for the soft slap of your sack against my chin, and for the sticky strands of saliva left behind as you pump yourself into and out of the wetdark of my mouth.