A Particularly Forgiving Gag Reflex

Since we're all getting to know each other so well, there's something serious I'd like to discuss with you. Something I hold very dear and feel is of great importance.

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We need to talk about blow jobs. Because, I feel that for you to really understand my quirky, sex-saturated, giddy, little brain, you've got to understand, just as I've made Rye understand, how much I love a cock in my mouth.

Now, it's important to recognize where we've come from. In that vein, I will say this; while things did not work out so great with this particular person in the long run, the man to whom I gave my first blow job was an excellent teacher. He was a few years older than me chronologically, but far outpaced me sexually. He thrilled me, truth be told, because although I am fiercely independent outside the bedroom, inside it I love VERY much being told what to do.

He taught me to start slowly, to start kissing his head and shaft the way I would start kissing his lips. He taught me that teasing goes a long way. He taught me that balls love to be licked, held, nuzzled. With him I learned to relax my mouth and throat. To take his entire, mammoth cock into my mouth and throat. To use my hand to spread my spit like lube along the whole shaft as my head moved in long, deep strokes. And he taught me that once we were both ready to go, it was in both of our best interests to go deep, fast, wet and hard. A lesson which I have graciously, greedily, at times obsessively taken to heart.

This man also had an unfairly enormous cock, which I credit with helping along my already particularly forgiving gag reflex.

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However (sorry, I'm going to brag), no one - NO ONE - needed to teach me to swallow. Some of us are maybe just born knowing that that is what you need to do when your lover, moaning and bucking, blows a warm, savory load into your mouth. Don't get me wrong, I love the look in Rye's eyes when he comes on my chest - one of nervous delight, like, maybe he's not really allowed to do this? But to me, getting a mouthful of him is a reward for a job well done.

I'm not putting you on. Ladies, here's the deal. You like it when your man buries his face deep in your pussy, don't you? You love when you can feel his nubbly little taste-buds lapping up your wetness, right? Of course you do. It's amazing. So here's the thing (I swear, I will not often make declarative statements with such cavalier disregard, so just give me this one), please do not spit. It's already in your mouth. There are vitamins in it. It's great for your skin. And even more importantly, it will make him feel, as Rye is so accustomed to feeling, like a fucking champ.

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In my youth, I admit to viewing giving head as sort of a race. "Oh, hello, you un-suspecting little loverboy, want to see me make you blow in a minute or less?" Which, don't get me wrong, is still fun occasionally. But with Rye, it's become more about the process. I like to look up at him and see him seeing me take his whole dick in my mouth. I like to draw it out a little. To make him squirm. Sweat. Plead. It makes the mouthful that I get, in all it's ever-changing consistencies and flavors, particularly gratifying. Nearly as gratifying as his shivering, murmuring snuggle afterward.

And holy hell, here is a woman that agrees with me.

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Happy sucking and fucking lovelies. Can't wait to see you soon.