The Other L Word

Didn’t you, then, not even a little; but I know you did, how was it possible that you could do that to me otherwise, could insert yourself into me, with your eyes wide close-gazing into mine, to see how far my pupils dilated of course, but wasn’t there something else, as you pushed the needle in below the precisely right layers of skin, the upper curve of my breast, my epidermis letting you in, as you penetrated me with the sterile steel tip the way I imagine my virginity was taken the first time, if I cared to remember that far back, if I had cared about that; but this time, I did, I cared so much and your doing it so carefully, with such caring in your hands, your confident hands, made me believe you cared, so didn’t you, then, care I mean; I mean, how could you have made me fly like that without it meaning something, something more than the moment’s intimacy, something that had to do with permanence and sweetness and the word we’d been devoted to avoiding saying for months, since the very beginning, since the day we met and I drank what you gave me and spilled it on the floor from nervous arousal and let you wipe it up and believed you would take care of whatever messes you caused in me, so I let you take me, take me home, take me places I had never gone before, inside myself and into the next dimension, because I trusted how you touched me, how you kissed me, how you fucked me with your whole hand inside me, how you hurt me with such precision, how you played my jugular like a flute, how I let you do everything, everything but that, everything but love me; but you did, after all, didn’t you, at least a little?

The Girl Who Loved Cock

I WONDER if you know how much I like sucking cock. There’s nothing like those cocksucking orgasms, when the rough thrusts at the back of my throat and the pure thrill of choking are enough to make me come. How does something so hard make me feel so wet and soft inside?

One top said nothing to me, just leaned up against hir bedroom wall and threw a pillow on the floor. The gesture was hot and sweet—not because my knees needed cushioning, but because it meant hy expected me to stay there a long time. Hir dick was cyberskin, soft enough that I could mould its whole flesh to the inside of my mouth and push hard. As hy grabbed my neck and rammed into the back of my throat, neurons fired all the way down the live circuits to my cunt, and I came.

Some dicks are too big for me to swallow, but just right for sputtering and gasping. I try to slurp deep and press up so you can feel the base of the cock jam underneath the harness, against the exact spot in you that craves this, too.

I remember the first woman I gave a blowjob to; she liked it so much, it terrified her. We were young. The harness we’d bought together, bravely, was hardly broken in. She put it on and then said shyly, almost embarrassed, “I want you to suck it.”

I DROPPED TO MY KNEES quick as I could to oblige, wrapped my mouth around the dark grey ripples of our new cock, and let my tongue make it as slick and wet as my pussy had suddenly become.  I could tell she was liking it—loving it—and then she made me stop. “The boys must have liked you,” she said bitterly, referring to my bisexual past, and never let me do it again.

I wonder what your dick is to you; I wonder how you like it. If you’ll stand and push me up against a wall … or sit back cockily with your legs sprawled and your zipper open like a dare.  If you’ll want me to taste your hot pulsing erection and jack you off with my tongue … or thrust nine inches of silicone down my throat. If you’ll let me wrap my arms around your knees to pull in deeper … or tie my hands behind my back so I can’t control the depth, so you can have your way with me. If I’ll be able to tilt my head up and see the look in your eyes as I do it … or if my whole face will be in your crotch so that I don’t see anything but the bulge that’s right in front of me. If you’d like to have your dick sucked and caressed with my tongue … or if you prefer to just fuck my face.

It’s a fine line, but then, cocksucking is all about the nuances, isn’t it?

I wonder how to make a pretty picture for you. Spread my knees as I kneel on the floor; wear lipstick just so it can get messed up, a hot bright red; deep cleavage for you to look down into.

WILL YOU PUT A NEEDLE or two in my tits first, just to watch them dance?  Or maybe you’ll hurt me afterward, please pretty please, if I do it good.

I wonder why you and I haven’t done this yet, with all we’ve done. It’s the simplest act, not even very kinky; maybe that’s why. Maybe I’ve been too hungry to explore new kinks that I forgot to tell you how much I want this. Maybe I haven’t begged sweetly enough.

I am always sincere when I beg. You know that by now, don’t you? So:

Please sir, please—may I suck your cock? I’ll kiss it so pretty, I’ll make it feel good, I’ll take it deep and hard, I’ll choke and gasp and plead for more. Oh… please?

I wonder if you know I jerked off this morning thinking about your cock deep in my throat. And  I came.