Undulations of Pleasure
There’s this one prominent vein that bulges along the side of his pulsating cock that I love to run my tongue along. His cock, so hardened yet so vulnerable and fragile; it’s the vulnerability contrasted with the solidity that makes me beside myself! That’s the beauty of the penis, the beauty of manhood.
Bundles of nerves instantly bristle just recalling the feeling, texture, and image of it raising up, growing larger in my mouth. My chest surges with excitement, and any awareness of my surroundings and sense of self is lost in undulations of pleasure.
I place one hand between my thighs, one finger making circles around the already slippery opening which aches so fiercely, aching to swallow him whole. I start rubbing more vigorously, circling my hips wider, gently tightening my other hand on the shaft and jerking it faster. I feel the warm tip hitting the roof of my mouth, so I exhale slowly and push it further. I feel the warm tip hitting the back of my throat, hitting a point of resistance each time that I tactfully and gently aim to push beyond. Sometimes I get too aggressive, too aroused that I push too far and retch. It’s the only instance I can think of where I relish in waves of nausea taking over… how blessed and chosen I feel to have the sheer size and diameter of his cock overwhelm me! How lucky I am to work for his pleasure, to chase it down like an animal! It’s the effort it takes, the tender ache in my mandible, the choking, the gasping and slurping, the impropriety of having saliva and tears dripping down my cheeks and chin that makes it all so satisfyingly rewarding. Pleasure is earned in the process. Pleasure is earned when I hear him gasp, quietly, breathing heavily, and I further lose myself in response. Then I feel it spraying the back of my throat — warm salt, warm milk, fluid of life. Pleasure is earned in the mild taste of it, in dutifully licking any remaining drops off the sheets and my fingers. Pleasure is earned when he grabs me and kisses my mouth afterwards. Thank you! I exclaim. Thank you.
I place one hand between my thighs, one finger making circles around the already slippery opening which aches so fiercely, aching to swallow him whole. I start rubbing more vigorously, circling my hips wider, gently tightening my other hand on the shaft and jerking it faster. I feel the warm tip hitting the roof of my mouth, so I exhale slowly and push it further. I feel the warm tip hitting the back of my throat, hitting a point of resistance each time that I tactfully and gently aim to push beyond. Sometimes I get too aggressive, too aroused that I push too far and retch. It’s the only instance I can think of where I relish in waves of nausea taking over… how blessed and chosen I feel to have the sheer size and diameter of his cock overwhelm me! How lucky I am to work for his pleasure, to chase it down like an animal! It’s the effort it takes, the tender ache in my mandible, the choking, the gasping and slurping, the impropriety of having saliva and tears dripping down my cheeks and chin that makes it all so satisfyingly rewarding. Pleasure is earned in the process. Pleasure is earned when I hear him gasp, quietly, breathing heavily, and I further lose myself in response. Then I feel it spraying the back of my throat — warm salt, warm milk, fluid of life. Pleasure is earned in the mild taste of it, in dutifully licking any remaining drops off the sheets and my fingers. Pleasure is earned when he grabs me and kisses my mouth afterwards. Thank you! I exclaim. Thank you.
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