hunger

I could have spent all afternoon with his pale cock in my mouth, feeding myself with his heat and girth. Taking him from soft, spent silkiness back to straining hot rock with copious saliva and busy tongue, then to tussle with a throatful of choking solidity, forcing my face further upon him, allowing myself to gag on the swell, easing off to gulp for air and blink the tears from my eyes, then dipping back to throttle myself again.

I wallow in my role of penial gourmand, relishing the stretching of every facial muscle, the pulled breath from my lungs and the spread of my lips in an oozing, fluttering flesh feast as i balance on bent knees over his reclining body, my hips raised upwards, achingly aware of the window behind me and my vulnerable nakedness.

As the sunlight shifts and deepens across the bed he prompts me to ask, to ask for what i want.

"I will fuck you in your pussy" he says, "or in your..."

He doesn't need to finish the sentence any more than he needs to hear my answer, but, as i crawl up his body, bottom held high, it is dirtier that he says it, and that i ask for it.

"Please"; I whisper the words into his mouth through my scuffed lips.