The Blow Job

Fleshbotted

In days gone by, I was not very good at fellatio.

I don’t think it helped that I was a bit scared of the male genitalia. I didn’t really want to touch any of it, worried that I might hurt some of it or, worse still, be asked to do something with part of it which was out of my comfort zone. Truth be told I didn’t find it very attractive. On occasion, I could be persuaded to give the area a cursory once-over and would manhandle the wee beastie half-heartedly, but I preferred to keep it safely secured within the confines of its owner’s trousers.

This does not mean that the man whose name I bear was never the recipient of my tongue’s attentions in the early days of our relationship but as my own revulsion at my appearance increased so, proportionately, did my desire to experiment sexually decrease.

How times change. Now that I have learned to love my own bits and pieces, suddenly I can appreciate the benefits and pleasures of my genderal opposites so much more keenly.

The sight of a fully-erect penis standing proudly above my face, its owner desperately aroused by my presence and the possibility of what it might presage. What more could a woman ask for?

The magnificence of this feat of biological engineering that allows six or more inches of bone-free flesh to remain rigid purely through the amount of blood pumping into it, but which is dependent upon the continuing mental arousal of the mind attached to it.

The way the foreskin withdraws along the shaft and almost disappears back into itself to expose its most sensitive and rewarding parts, it really is a truly exquisite creation with so many different areas on which to focus one’s attentions. I should probably point out at this juncture that actively spitting on your partner’s penis to aid lubrication is not always received in the spirit in which it was intended and can cause general deflation at your impertinence. Gently moistening the area by allowing the naturally available oral wetness to dribble out is a far more acceptable option.

Tracing around the exposed helmet. Probing my tongue’s tip under the rim, round, over and down into the little jap’s eye on the top before enveloping the entire tip in the warm wetness of my mouth. Pressing the entire flat of my tongue firmly against that especially delicate place where the foreskin is joined to the main stem and licking upwards and over the top like a particularly tasty lollipop always evokes a very enthusiastic reponse. It’s one of Ruf’s favourites, closely followed by the ice cream cone, which incorporates my natural cornet consumption technique into circles and spirals of increasingly lubricating pressure as the fluids in my mouth echo those flowing into my groin at the reaction it causes in the receiver.

The effusive sounds verbalising his appreciation ringing in my ears, the vulnerability of his outstretched body and his fingers locking around hunks of sheet. Licking and sucking at the soft skin of his balls and then trailing my tongue’s full width up the length extending above me, leading into smacking the head of that raging beast against it repeatedly. Dropping my entire mouth down around it until my lips meet his groin and the gag reflex is about to be engaged. Drooling all over it and setting it free only to encircle it with my fingers and begin wanking the glorious handle.

The continual changes of pressure, one moment my tongue, the next my mouth, moving through my palm, my fingers, reintroducing lips and tongue in addition. Teasing and tickling, gripping and sliding, forever altering the focus so that the recipient never knows quite what is happening next and the obscuring curtain of my hair preventing visual adjustment to the tormenting dextero-lingual incursions. Building him almost to climax and then relaxing the pressure at the last moment; allowing him to subside briefly before resuming my attentions and taking him almost to the brink once more.

The giving of such obvious pleasure to the man beneath me stimulating my own juices in a way that I never used to experience and the knowledge that I am in control. That I can finish this with my mouth or with my cunt and either way will bring its own unique pleasure to us both.

And whichever way enables the denouement, completion can only really occur through gentle sucking to extract the very last vestiges of his seed as the magic wand returns to its flaccid state.

I have become an enthusiastic and much appreciated cocksucker.