As he recounted our previous experiences with a very clear memory, he suddenly lost it. “I don’t think I’ve ever pleasured you before. I want to please you…”
Half of our time spent together has been devoted to him pleasing me.
Maybe it was the drugs.
“You have. Numerous times. You’re more than welcome to refresh your memory.”
He’s had a lot of practice and every time he’s down there it shows. Whether he’s only moving his fingers to make you squirm like a child reluctantly sitting at a desk, or lapping away like a dog at a bowl, he makes it feel like a birthright. He does it so well and with such zeal and responsibility that it makes you think that’s why you have a vagina in the first place.
“Oh, I remember pleasing you know.”
Many would probably be offended by a guy forgetting he ever went down on you…more than once…twice…three…four times…
I wasn’t. The great thing about someone forgetting they did something is that they do it like they’re doing it for the first time, and when someone wants to please, that’s a very good thing.
He uses the word “cunt.”
I’ve never liked that word. He has a thing for combining words that are ugly to me with words that are gentle and it really fucks me up to have euphoria interrupted by a word every now and then.
“You have a delicious cunt.” “You sweet, sweet girl, with your beautiful, beautiful ax wound.” And I laugh. But he never does. He’s always drop dead serious. And his voice softens like he’s trying to be romantic. Maybe it is romantic. Is that romantic? A delicious, beautiful, ax wound cunt?
Men, would you get turned on if was sucking on your balls and when I came up for air said, “Your bean bags make me so wet”?
I don’t think that’s the best example but you get what I’m saying.