When I Kneel For Him

I was breathing heavily as I fell to my knees before him, my hands pressing into the firmness of his abs and sliding down until my fingers were kneading at the tops of his thighs. As I moved forward I felt myself bump into something hard and thick and I tilted my head to the side, feeling it slide along my cheek.

God even just by touch alone he felt enormous to me. Hard and thick and long and oh so warm. The heat of him radiating out into my body and making me feel like he was made of fire, like he was burning my skin and branding me with the lust he had for me. With a need that matched my own.

I wanted him. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to satisfy him. And then I wanted him to make me a woman.

My breath shudders as I pull back and feel him slide against my cheek. The head of him pulses as I turn my lips and press them against the side of him again and again, kissing all the way up the length of his shaft until my lips crest his head and I taste the salt of his member on my lips. It is enthralling and I inhale deeply, the manly musk of him filling my nostrils and making my body shudder with delight.

Exhale slowly and part my lips and turn my head, twisting around until I’m teasing at the head of him and I can feel it, I can feel the energy of him and all of the desire and need in him as it bucks at the limit of me and this feels like a big step but it’s one that I desperately want to take.

So I don’t step hesitant and I don’t step uncertain. Instead I leap for him.

Pressing down and feeling him push past my lips. Feeling the spongy yet solid head of him settle onto my tongue and then pushing deeper down until he fills my mouth and all I can taste is the earthy salt of him and all I can feel is the head of him inside of me, filling me completely.

I pull back and gasp for air but I’m back in a moment, tracing and teasing my tongue around the head of him and swirling as I moan and the audience around me in the darkness surges against me. They don’t touch but they step closer, witnessing how thoroughly I’m losing myself to this moment.

My hands move from his thighs to his cock and I fill my fingers with him, stroking with both hands up and down the length of him while I suckle at his head and feel every twitch and every vibration reverberate through his body. With my fingers I can trace the lines of the veins in his shaft and with my tongue I lavish them with pleasure. I push down to take more of him into me as my fingers drift under to tickle and tantalize his hanging orbs.

Oh god I am lost in it. I am lost and yet found as my body moves in ways I did not imagine and this is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this, even in my own dreams, but I am thoroughly knowledgeable on it.

I know it’s not her. Not Emily. Emily, like me, has never been in this position before. She’s never been on her knees and she’s never pleased a man like this. Everything that I’ve done in the day that I’ve been her is leagues beyond anything she’s ever done before, save for the pleasures she found with her own fingers.

So if it isn’t her then where does it come from? How do I know what to do?

How do I twist and slide low, sliding my tongue along the underside of his cock until I close my lips around his balls and moan while I stroke him faster and faster? How do I nuzzle myself into the shaft of him and desperately kiss the skin of him while I move up and up and back up to his head? How do I pause to catch my breath with my lips pressed against the head of him before I push down, before I open wide, before I prepare to take every last inch?

How does it all feel so natural to me? So strangely foreign and yet so entirely familiar?

And the answer is the answer that I know but cannot witness or believe because admitting it means admitting something about myself so instead I push on with the fantasy and try to pretend that it’s just make believe.

Instead I continue to lie to myself and focus on the pleasure instead.

Giving and receiving.

And begging for more.

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