Buncha Walruses

Sometimes I approach him, show myself off or seduce him. I’m in a mood.

I want something, usually a hard fuck that will leave me sore. But it’s rude to place my wants front and center - to steal his show. So I put myself on offer and see if he’s interested.

He smiles, welcoming my overture. His cock hardens and he shows it to me.

I smile too. Maybe this will go my way? Maybe if I—

“I want your mouth.” “Worship it.” “I want a blowjob.” “Show me how much you love my cock.”

The hopeful butterflies in my belly drop all at once to pulse angrily in my cunt. What I want couldn’t matter less. He expects to get his way. And it’s oral. It’s always oral. It is irrelevant to him that my cunt is drooling between my legs, throbbing for attention. He doesn’t even look up at me to see my expression. He gets himself comfortable and waits for me.

I swallow my pride, I work to rearrange my thinking. I obey. The soft, warm skin meets my tongue and masculine scent fills my nose. Those difficult thoughts fade out into a fog.

Much better. I love doing this. How lucky I am that he lets me adore him. Each sweet little drip from his tip is a treat.

He groans, unloading semen down my hungry throat. I am not dismissed. My warm mouth holds him tenderly as he softens. I nuzzle into him, enjoying the closeness he allows me.

He hardens again in my mouth. His fingers entwine with my hair and his hips begin to thrust.