The blindfolded taste of lust-1

And maybe (surely) it was just a fantasy, but he somehow wished he could be on his knees, surrounded by cocks, surrounded by cocks waiting to shoot load after load in his thirsty mouth. To have nothing but the smell of cock and cum in the room, their taste in his mouth. But how do you say this to your wife, to the mother of your c***dren? “Honey, I sometimes wish I could be a fucking cumslut. I would like to suck off a dozen men and swallow their cum.”

But that was the stuff of fantasies, and what was real was her saying “fill my fucking mouth”. “Lucky bitch” he thought. His head back, his eyes closed, he was concentrating on her making love to him with her mouth. He told her, as he was close to the edge, to go as slowly as she could, to put her mouth around his head and jerk him slowly, with plump, full motions, to feel him cum in her mouth, to concentrate on his ejaculation. Her movements became slow, deliberate, conscious and he added, without actually intending to, without having given it any real thought: “and kiss me with your mouth full of my load”. His heart was pounding out of control; he couldn’t believe he had just said that, but he swung his head back and felt it coming. Her tongue was slowly swirling around his head, her hand was loosely twisting around his sloppy manhood and for an entire moment before he actually shot the first stream, he felt it deep inside, like a fragile balance going up, and up while her hand was working it slowly, and then, as it reached its peak, it became more and more acute until it tipped over and he felt the release, the cum fill the entire length of his cock and shoot out in her mouth as she moaned, again and again almost in slow motion. And the whole time he was cumming, he kept thinking, though it was a diffuse thought, “this load is for me”. He never opened his eyes. He kept them closed as she milked out all she could with her hand, sucked every last drop with her mouth. He wasn’t sure what was going on in her head. It was the first time her ever shared such a fantasy with her. He wasn’t sure she would go through with it, and with the orgasm having subsided, he wasn’t even sure he wanted her too, but he felt her get on her knees, climb up to him, grab his head and put her mouth against his. It was happening. He opened his mouth and took the huge load he had just blew. Its texture was different than what he expected, thinner than the white ropes on waiting tongues he jerked off to. And the taste was sharp, even a bit empty. Not as full and satisfying as he had imagined it, but this was still his cum. He thought of what was happening, their tongues kissing in his load, kissing in its taste, in its texture. Knowing the moment is fucking hot. He moaned as he swallowed it all with a gulp and they kept on kissing. It stung his throat. It was great. The only thing is, the desire to swallow quickly recedes as the orgasm takes over. This is the sad reality: one’s own cum can never, by definition, be eaten in the full heat of arousal.