I intend to!

My second orgasm hit me like a rabid tiger leaping from the forest between my legs. I could hear myself making noise with my voice, but it was only words in the most poetic of senses. An involuntary spasm in my legs thrust me against the headboard of the bed as I slid off his cock.

The tiger continued to maul me and shake my body, as my knees tried to defy physics and occupy the same space.

As I panted and started to win my fight for breath I could feel my back, already slick with my perspiration, being splashed with a "cum-plement".

I smiled to myself, feeling flattered that my tangled sweaty body was providing enough pornographic stimulation to elicit that reaction.

I turned my head and **** my eyes open. He was sat back on his heels, still kneeling and toying with his softening cock.

I still wanted him to taste himself. I had planned to get him to go down on me again and have a slice of "cream pie", but his pudding was now splashed all over my back. (And getting cold.)

I waited for his eyes to meet mine. He was grinning like an idiot. I smiled back and said, "Your desert is getting cold." while flicking my eyes in the direction of my back ─ to make it clear what I meant.

His face fell and looked a little confused. I guess his refractory period had returned his innate level of disgust. I felt disheartened, and worried that I had pushed him too much. "It's not gay if it's your own." I added in the best singsong voice that I could manage after spending minutes barking noises before and during my recent orgasm.

He looked hesitant, but his confusion had vanished. I thought that I saw a tiny spark of curiosity, which make me think that I could bring it to life with just some gentle blowing.

"I've blown you countless times. Haven't you ever wondered what that's like?"

I expected him to continue thinking, or "um" and "errr?" but he instantly replied. "I have, but reality isn't the same as fantasy."

I realised that I had a choice. I could nudge him, or wait, or give up and angrily tell him to wipe up his mess. I continued to play the loving partner and take the middle ground, so that he could choose either way. "Good boys clean up their messes." I said, and left it at that for a moment.

He licked his lips but didn't move. I ran out of patience, (and it really was getting cold.) I started to rouse myself from the pillows and get back up onto my hands and knees.

That was when I felt it. His warm tongue stroking my back. It was surprising and pleasant. "Oh good boy." seemed like the only thing to say. I didn't want to interrupt his oral voyage of discovery. I wished that I had eyes in the back of my head, so that I could watch his reaction, but I had to settle for being his salty sushi table.