True Sex Stories: Mornings

A tale of sucking cock.

I was so patient in waiting for you to get here, looking at images of lust, getting me even more in the mood. Women with their painted fingertips wrapped around cock, their lips ready to push down over shiny tips, glistening with spit and pre-cum.

That smile– perfect, big, nervous, and excited all in one. Your smile-infectious–makes me smile back, makes my pussy weep out loud. It made me lower between your knees without hesitation–just salvation.

You smell so clean, showered, like laundry, my cheeks running the length of your shaft, the soft boxer fabric feels smooth, I can smell your cock. I love this anticipation; being that close to your dick with out it being flesh to flesh yet. I let out a small discordant moan of foretaste.

Pulling the waistband down, your branch extends to me, to my lips. With a tickle and flip of the tongue I begin to savor what you are, who you are–your throb, your pulse of flesh and blood. Not like last time, we did not have a the opportunity to savor, it was quick and lowdown. Not this time–we have a slow deliberate wet groove. I'm all mouth, lips, tongue, and teeming warmth. Your tip drops, I run my lips down to your balls and accept their softness into my mouth–your response is all there–"that feels so good–your tongue on my balls, take them all in, make em' sloppy wet sweetie." And I do, and stay there filling my cheeks with you. The smell of laundry is now thoroughly mingled with the smell of spit and cock. It drives me.

Working that sweet stick of yours–my fingers feeling the folds of my pussy–my clit popping saying "good morning, how lucky are we to have this nice young cock on our couch." She is such a slut. My ass bobs in unison to my mouth, to my fingers fucking. Lips on tip, sweet honey drips. I drop down and you pass that gag reflex point–you are all the way inside me and I stay with you like that, it is like time stands still for a moment, I am stuffed with cock, I cannot breath, but only smell your sex, our sex blended

Your hands are still unsure, of what to do, where to go. You want to grab my hair, my head, but you go for the shoulders instead, your fingers just barley beginning to wrap into my hair. When I turn my head, I see you have set the camera on the couch arm, again you are filming. I give the lens a show, applying my skill whole heartily to every part of you, creating strands of spittle so your cock will look extra wet when you go back to watch, I spend extra time on your balls–you seem to like that.

Then I forget about the camera and fuck you like I want to, my mouth all over you, slow, paced, not rushed. You ask me if I want you to come, I say "yes," because I am longing to see it, and secretly longing to feel it splash me. You tell me "last time I asked if you were ready, you said no." I shrug and continue. You are ready though, more assertive now you grab the back my hair at my neck and guide me back down to your balls, I take them in. Filled, running my tongue all over them, soaking you up and sucking you in. Now–you firmly holding my head down. That assertiveness is hot it makes my pussy melt on my fingers as your soft flesh fills me. Your other hand pumps your shaft. I get off on the way a mans hand looks on his cock. You are going to come right in front of my eyes while you hold my face down in your lap. Yes! that is so fucking hot, my pussy willow clinches at my fingers.

My tongue licking, my mouth slowly tugging and your hand sliding around your beam. You tense and then that hot white spurts out, hits your arm and slow drips between your fingers in slow motion. Releasing your grasp of my neck I lift up and taste the sweet sticky mess from the tip of your cock to your fingers.

You taste good. Big smiles for all.

Republished with permission from Library Vixen. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.