Meditation on Desire

I can't pick just one reason for why I so deeply enjoy serving you with my mouth. I simply love everything about it.

~

I love lowering myself before you. Casting my eyes up at you as I sink to my knees, or move lower on the bed - finding myself wonderfully, happily beneath you either way. Taking in the sight of you almost reverently, looking skyward at you, prayerfully thankful to get to look over every exquisite, exposed detail - and taking my time, so as to not miss one thing about your sexy body. Taking in, especially, the arousal written all over your face, evident from my vantage point - the way your lips form themselves around swear after mindless swear, as your breathing accelerates and your eyes grow desperate for more of me while staring back down.

(... those are the details I find myself thinking about first, whenever thoughts of sucking your thick, stiff dick make their way into my mind. It's what I'm thinking about when I let my fingertips begin to wander along my own body, knowing I plan to work myself over as my imagination continues to explore this particular desire of mine. Like now...)

I love feeling taken. Claimed. Yours for the picking. Especially when you lean into it - first gliding your fingertips along my shoulders and neck as I prepare to take you in, your feather-light touches sending jolts of joy and excitement coursing through me, making me fully succumb to the moment. Then moving those hands up higher, carefully grazing those fingers along my scalp, before firmly gripping two fistfuls of hair at the nape of my neck. Pulling almost too hard in anticipation -- and making me wetter in the process, because it intensely thrills me to feel your unbridled excitement and desire for my mouth. For me. To feel as though I'm truly in your possession, in your care, purely because you fucking need me to be.

(... that last second, that last gasp before it truly begins -- if only there were a way to live in it, for a little while longer. Truth be told, my entire body becomes taut with excitement and eagerness, my muscles bound, and ready to pounce. The idea of being suspended in that last sliver of longing is what consistently drives me to begin teasing and rubbing my clit. Like now...)

I love how you feel inside - the physical sensation of you entering me, then entering me again, and again. The way my tongue so effortlessly swirls around the throbbing head of you, as though it were made to do so, before gliding along the underside of your length as I take more and more of you. The way my soft, sweet lips, then the whole of my gifted mouth, expand to accommodate every delectable inch. The warmth and fullness you give me as more sinks in. The gentle nudges as you go deep enough to touch the back of my throat. The sensation of moaning and sighing around you - strained sounds, as if there isn't quite enough room for both your stiff dick and my excitement.... The way we fit together.

(... I find myself wishing desperately that my uncontrollable little utterances were stifled by the deep, passionate face-fucking I'm picturing vividly in my mind. The concept often makes me throw my head back and gasp in ecstasy; my teasing turns urgent soon after that, as I bring myself closer to the edge. Like now...)

And, I love pleasing you. Being your good girl, who takes good care of you. Who gets you hard, to the point of rigidity, with my lips and my tongue (and my whimpers and my pleading stare). Being the one who, with increasing speed and need, welcomes you inside of me, deep into my wet, velvet-soft, massaging mouth. Being the one who uses her lips and her tongue to stimulate you with expert precision, while still simultaneously sucking - all to drive you positively wild, hurtling you toward what will be an especially gratifying release. And being someone who knows the taste and scent of you, of your essence - once you gift me with it when you, at last, explode in ecstasy. Being someone who knows the feel of your bliss gliding down my throat, and deeper still into me.

(... it's the concept of consuming you in such an intimate way -- and the memory of your taste, unlike anything else in this world -- that usually sets me soaring. This time, my own orgasm hits with an intensity that takes my breath away. I manage one throaty, desperate cry, before air and time become suspended as I tense and leak in perfect pleasure. And through the din of relief and joy, I still hold tight to the mental picture of you experiencing the exact sort of energy currently coursing through every curve and inch of me...)

~

So now you see...

I can't pick just one reason for why I so deeply enjoy serving you with my mouth.

I simply love everything about it.