Going Down

Summary:

Ever read a poem about a blowjob? Well, I tried making one, though I think the result is, um, well go and read it. SLASH

-Z-

"Suck," he commands.

You obey and kneel.

Stare. What to do?

The first pushes his hips

forward. The heat is overpowering.

You carefully hold it.

You know, the cock.

Heavy.

Pulsing.

The groan is ignored,

falls on burning ears.

Its taste? You want

to know.

Lean in, lick at the tip.

Hmm, bitter, salty but good.

Again.

He moans.

It's bolder now, your tongue.

Dances on the underside.

The vein intrigues you.

The juice is dripping.

Oh yum!

You like it now. Eager beaver.

He writhes, as if in pain.

But not.

It's so good.

The open mouth begs,

cries, "Oh, oh fuck!"

And you feel it with your own.

The hands venture.

Grips the base.

Slides.

Upwards/downwards.

Fuck.

Nah, 'suck' sounds better.

So you do.

The cries empower, so heady.

Like the smell of him.

The taste.

Length.

Weight.

Hmmm.

The hips thrust forward.

He's so needy now.

Those sounds feed you.

Reward him.

Lick-suck.

Grasp-pull-stroke.

Repeat.

Then he screams

and now you hear it.

Something explodes in

your mouth.

The deluge.

The come.

He's coming down

your throat.

You love it.

Swallow as much

as you can.

Nearly gagging.
But still hmmm.

You pull back,

licking lips moist with

him.

He's spent, slides next to you.

Panting, reaching for the

other cock. Yours.

Repeat all.

-Z-

Use hands.

Then lips.

Don't forget the tongue.

Suction is the best.

Maybe hum a little.

Licking will kill.

Watch him come.