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I love sucking cock.

I suppose I could say it more politely: I enjoy fellatio, or I like oral sex. But the truth is, I like saying it almost as much as I like doing it. Let’s not hide behind pretty words here: I like sucking cock, the down and dirty act of it; I get off on the mouth-to-penis equation, if you will. Just talking about it starts a fire in my belly and a dampness between my thighs, and a hunger for firm, hot flesh between my lips. I like everything about it.

I like the taste of it. This one is obvious, I guess. Skin doesn’t really have much flavor, unless it’s been a hot day, and even then, the saltiness of clean sweat just sort of adds to it, really. Lick your arm if you’re curious; so long as your partner is of even casual hygiene, that’s about what it tastes like. Sometimes soap, if they’ve washed recently. The big thing, though, is the taste of cum, of course. Semen, ejaculate, spooge, baby batter, mansauce; whatever you want to call it. Every man tastes a little different. Diet and God knows what else goes into it, but under it all is that thick, heavy flavor that suddenly fills your mouth, letting you know that you’ve brought another person a moment of complete and utter bliss.

I like the smell of it. Clean or sweaty, soap and cologne or sweat and musk, scent is one of the most powerful senses for all of us. However you like it – and I have reasons to like it all – the smell surrounds you, fills you, invades you; it’s as intimate as the act itself, drowning in that scent, letting it carry your mind and raise your arousal to dizzying heights. At least, that’s what it does for me. If I bother wearing panties that day, sometimes, a whiff is enough to ensure that they don’t stay dry. Arousal has its own scent too, and there’s little so exciting as knowing Eskort Bayan your partner is as turned on as you are.

I like how it feels, in my hands, and in my mouth. I like sucking on soft cocks, a tender, pliant bit of flesh for my tongue and lips to tease, licking it gently and lipping at it, sometimes nibbling lightly with careful teeth; letting my fingers trail over the soft skin, cupping the heavy sack below, testing the weight and texture of his balls. I love it when they grow hard in my mouth, feeling the cock I’m tasting slowly expand and fill the space, hardening and firming and lengthening so that I can take longer strokes, crown to base. I like sucking on hard cocks, the firm hot flesh under smooth soft skin, feeling it twitch and quiver; running my tongue over the veins and ridges and especially flicking lightly just along that part, the funnily-named frenulum.

I love the feeling of hands in my hair, guiding, encouraging, maybe pressing just a little bit, a little demanding, a little forceful. Desperate. I like knowing they want more, and knowing that I could give it to them, and holding back just a bit, making them want and want.

I love the sounds my partner makes, with my lips around his cock, my tongue exploring its texture and topology, sometimes sucking so hard my cheeks hollow, sometimes just letting him feel the wet heat of my mouth, sometimes coming off him completely and just giving teasing little licks, or just letting my lips run over the head, or ducking down, sucking his balls into my mouth, teasing the loose skin with tongue and teeth. Hearing those sounds, knowing that I’m the reason he’s making them, always leaves me dripping and hot, and most of the time, at least one of my hands is engaged in my own pleasure.

Not that I need it; I’ve come from the act itself, orgasmed just from having a man unload in my mouth or on my face or tits. The brain is the most powerful of the sexual organs, after all; the biggest and most important erogenous zone, on par with the skin. Yes, all of the skin. You just have to know how to touch it. But I rarely need both hands for the job, and the idle hand usually heads downtown to play a tune on the little pink button, if you know what I mean.

I love meeting their eyes, while I’m on my knees, either kneeling over them in bed or having them stand over me, or kneeling in front of them while they’re seated and comfortable in their easy chairs or couches; seeing the glazed look of arousal, the need and lust and desire in their eyes, the slack expressions on their faces. I like seeing how their brows furrow, their breathing deepens and quickens, their jaws open as they gasp and moan.

And when they come. Oh, God. I love it when they come in my mouth, feeling the cock jerk and twitch and pulse, the sudden taste heavy on my tongue; I love it when it’s just a slow drip and spread of flavor and when it’s hard jets that make you swallow just to keep up; I love it when they shout and pull my head down on them, forcing their cock into my throat, feeling it shoot straight down, even if I don’t get to taste it that way.

I love it when they come on my face, feeling the hot stripes of it paint my skin, knowing that anyone could see how much someone desired me, at least; I don’t see it as objectifying and never have. After all, they couldn’t do it if I didn’t let them. Same for coming on my tits, I just don’t have to worry about my eyes that much that way, and I love to see the satisfied, slightly awed look in theirs as they fall back with a sigh; I have literally sucked the energy out of them, and I love how limp and pliant they are afterwards.

I love sucking small cocks, and the groans you can pull from such a man when you take him in completely with no effort; there’s room for tongue play inside your mouth, when your lips aren’t stretched to your teeth just trying to surround it. You can make a tighter O with your lips, on the thinner ones, and the short, thick ones have their own pleasures. I love sucking big cocks, the ones that make you strain and cough and gag, the ones you have to work for every inch you manage to slide down your throat and the whimpering sighs they give when you manage it, leaving you with a sense of real accomplishment and pleasure. I can remember coming from that, too, so excited, so turned on, that when I pressed my nose to his pubis and he groaned my name, I whimpered and came all over the hotel carpet, my pussy juicing like a squeezed orange.

I’ve heard other women say the act is demeaning, submissive, but I think like most sex, it’s a matter of perspective. There is no denying the power I feel when I have a man’s cock in my mouth, and I know, there is nothing he will not do for me in that moment; I know that I can make the offer, and few men will turn it down. There may be an element of submission, in being on one’s knees, but here’s the real question – when he’s standing there, and you have the one piece of his anatomy he most prizes (most of the time – some men are smarter) between your teeth, who’s got the power then? Who is left limp, panting, gasping and amazed when you’ve swallowed all he has to give you, or let him cover you in his essence? There is power in the act, indeed – but it doesn’t lie with the man.

Not unless you let it, and I never do.

I love sucking cock. I love everything about sucking cock. Now, sit back and relax, and I will show you why you will love me sucking cock too.

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