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Click hereI run my tongue across the tip and dip into the opening, looking for more pre-come. I am trying to gauge your reactions, to determine your level of arousal, and whether or not I should try to make you come in my mouth. I find myself wondering what you taste like, and whether or not you can handle this passive, receptive role for much longer. I put my hand around the root of your cock, admiring the girth, remembering the pleasure such thickness brings me. I open wide so that no part of my mouth touches you, and I go about half-way down on your cock. As I close my mouth on you I inhale, so that your skin is cooled before my mouth touches it, enhancing the temperature contrast. Your hands twitch, opening, closing, and then one of them rises to the back of my neck, gliding under my hair. It makes me tingle and shiver and my knees slide apart as my back arches.
I abandon myself to pleasuring you as completely as I can. While in many ways I can be reserved and cautious, when it comes to things sensual I am often heedless of all but the prospect of enjoyment. As I do so I find that there is something highly erotic about bringing you pleasure. Your first loud moan makes me ache inside, and in moments my juices are flowing, welling up inside me. I feel like a fruit, ripe and so full of juice that you have but to take one bite and I will burst my skin, flooding your mouth with flavour. But first I want you to flood my mouth, to reward me with a taste of you. I focus every sense on you, heeding your every reaction. I feel the explosions of your breath, the fine tremor in your legs, the pulse of your cock and the constant leak of fluid from its tip.
I begin the ages-old rhythmic worship of the phallus, my mind focused, my mouth full of saliva. One hand holds the base while another massages your balls, weighs them, pulls on the skin, tugs on the hair that grows lightly there. I slide my fingers between your buttocks, playing with the opening there, circling lightly and with slightly increasing pressure. With each long pull of my mouth, each dip of my tongue, there is no conscious thought left to me, only desire. My fingers are gentle in exploring you, penetrating you, moving in rhythm with my mouth, and as I go deeper the sense of urgency increases; you take my head in your hands and push yourself deeper into my mouth. I know intuitively that if I hasten the pace now, I will have my reward. And so I grip your cock tighter in my hand and slide hand and mouth faster along its length. My exploring fingers find your prostate and stimulate it with a circular pressure that makes you jolt.
I know the time is here and I take a deep breath, going down on you as far as I can, sucking you and massaging with my tongue. I become aware that I am writhing on my knees and begging wordlessly with every part of me for the gift of your orgasm, for the taste of your seed on my tongue. I moan as you push me even farther down on you and begin the urgent slide into orgasm. My throat tries to close but I begin humming, and it relaxes again, and on your next push into my mouth you go even deeper. Your skin pebbles under my hands and your cock jerks three or four times before you let up enough for me to back off and get the taste of you on my tongue. You taste salty and musky and manly and slightly alkaline, a wonderful flavour mixture uniquely your own. I swallow and begin sucking again, gently, milking you of the last droplets.
With the fingers tangled in the hair at the back of my head, you pull my mouth off of you. Your chest heaves as you try to regain your breath, and you smile down at me, a smile that reaches your eyes and makes them glow. Something in me answers that smile, and I suddenly long for the feel of you between my legs, opening me, filling me, making me moan with pleasure. But there is no real rush. As in a game of chess, our moves will proceed pleasurably toward their pre-determined end, some hours from now. I am yours for this night and you are mine, and if we have our way, we will use each other until we are too tired to do more than breathe, and smile giddy, foolish smiles.
Yes, at some point there will be check, and mate.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousover 18 years agoKR, Keep up the excellent writing. I enjoyed your descriptions immensely. Never thought of chess as being an erotic pleasure, but this opens new avenues. The sheer Sensuality sent me for satisifaction.
walkingeaglealmost 19 years agoThis story is so erotic and sensuous it made me quiver! I could literallly feel the vivid descriptions. A wonderful job! Keep up the great work!
Captain Midnightalmost 19 years agoAs a chess player (and writer), I enjoyed the story very much. The story used some clever analogies.
Do you play chess online? I have tried it sometimes, but get into time pressure (literally, not figuratively), and sometimes lose a game because I am rushed. I'm old enough to remember pre-computer, pre-Fritz (if you know what I'm talking about, let me know), much slower time controls where players could savor the game. You'll find that carries over into my writing too.
I will copy this comment and send it to you privately, so you can respond to it if you like. I would very much enjoy an online chess buddy, particularly if you are a USCF member (if you know what that stands for, you probably are one) and have played in rated competition.
Although most people (including you) put the names of the pieces in lower-case type, I like to capitalize them, even the Pawns (I'm writing an instructional book for beginners), and most of my library is in the old-fashioned descriptive notation, although I teach using long algebraic (piece name, starting square and ending square).
If you know what I'm talking about, I'd like to know how you learned the game and when, and how much experience you have. I know what your initials stand for, so I'm guessing you have quite a bit of experience and love for the game.
Captain Midnight
Anonymousalmost 19 years agoDear 'Untruthful'.
I am amused that you feel so certain that I am not from the States that you would make such a comment publicly. I am unquestionably American, in fact, I am 5th generation Californian. However, I also happen to be very well-read, well-travelled, and Ivy League educated. That I use British spellings such as 'colour' instead of 'color' is a matter of aesthetics as well as the influence of both my Grandmother and my many European friends.
You, dear sir or madam, owe me an apology. - K.R.
