It all started yesterday. Or was it the day before? We seem to be consistently running off to the next thing. My man had been muttering about coitus interruptus. Other times he promised me that he "WILL come in my throat tonight/in a few hours/later today."
The fairness of my heart and the ease of my cunt want me to spend the next four hours epically recounting the cropping I received this morning. Wants me to tell you about the stinging corner shaped welts on my ass. Or recount how I tested the merits each of yelping and finding strength to keep my peace. That same affability wants me to shine a light on the impromptu photo shoot on the closet floor. I brought clothespins and lube in with me. My man snapped photos while I rubbed my clit and jammed the 7" dildo inside and out again. I wasn't going to get into this now, but this morning I had to have a towel under my knees as he fucked my mouth. I rode his face, we did sideways 69, he made me crawl around on my knees while sucking him off.
But there's a delicious looking snack plate waiting in the kitchen, and I'm not going deeper into all those details now. I'm going into the deep-throating I just performed.
It's not every day I can master the zen of the blowjob.
In the right position his cock will reach deep into my throat and I won't gag. There's a stride to it that involves relaxation and deep breathing. A sustainable body posture is required. My lips grasp his cock firmly, but don't scrape at it. I don't rely on expansive sucking in general. I use my lips for the strength of sensation that guys seem to love. It also helps the process for me to imagine myself performing, like a porn star.
Yes, I said it. "I just gave the best blowjob of my life." My man thought for a moment, caught his breath, and confirmed it.
I was working my thing, using my yoga skills, and he was starting to rub the back of my throat raw. I allowed my mind to go blank and asked my body to take over. Swallowing became easy to do, when the saliva became too deep. I knew then that I could swallow his come easily, if I could just keep my brain out of it. I breathed deeply and even started counting his rhythm. 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 was the going for awhile. I hoped I wasn't getting too technical and losing passion. I held balance. I counted and swallowed, breathed and counted. I noticed him speed up. 1-2-3-4-1-2-3-4. My body kept cool and receptive. My breath helped me flow and he gave the grunts. He told me it was coming. I swallowed and opened. The pace was overwhelming because his semen was pumping deep into my belly. I sputtered and gasped, but he held my face tight to him. I swallowed and tried to breathe. He released me, laid back.
I sat upright and somehow finally learned how to let my body have control. I sat up. I breathed, I relaxed back on my hands. I breathed and felt the come filling my belly. I felt an air pocked from gasping, fighting the rush of hot juice inside me. I breathed. My man, half lidded and smiling, gave purring approval. The come filled me up and I did not allow thoughts or gross out to invade my serenity. I was a laughing Buddha all of the sudden. I said, "I could really go for a chili cheese dog."
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