The Taste Of Things To Come

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFridayI’ve written before about how much I love cunnilingus and how it taps into my sensualism. I have also mentioned how much I enjoy getting my cock sucked. The truth is, I enjoy sex and all aspects of sexual activity.

Oral sex has many aspects. It can be used as a form of foreplay; each partner taking it in turns (or sometimes simultaneously) to drive the other wild with their lips and tongues. It can also be a fully satisfying act in its own right; being brought, or taking your partner to a climax.

The thing about it is, whichever of the above scenarios is being played out, the pace is being set by the giver. If you are the one performing it on your partner, you are the one that is in control.

The Oral Sex ProjectAs the giver, I love to be able to take my time, to luxuriate, to feast; prolonging my partner’s pleasure for as long as possible. I can set the pace, I can, to an extent, control the duration. I can enjoy my partner’s pleasure fully, without having to concern myself with my own. I definitely don’t have to worry about my own climax occasionally taking us both by surprise and bringing things to an abrupt halt.

As I’ve said before, I love the sensual experience of going down on my partner; the scents, the sounds and especially the taste.

As a receiver, I love the fact that my pleasure is in my partners hands (well, mouth, if we’re being pedantic about it). I love the fact, again, that it’s not something I need to concern myself with; she is setting the pace. She can suck and lick and kiss as hard or as gently, as fast or as slowly as she likes. My pleasure is down to her.

Which do I prefer. Well, when I’m face down between her legs, tasting the rich sweetness of her cunt, I definitely prefer being the giver. When I’m sitting/lying there with my cock in her mouth as she teases me with her lips and tongue, I definitely prefer being the receiver.

The honest answer is, I prefer whichever I am doing or having done to me.




Wicked WednesdayI can’t actually remember what prompted me to go down on girl for the first time. I just remember that, at some point, I found myself face down between the legs of the girl in question and my tongue was lapping her cunt. I wouldn’t describe myself as having an addictive disposition, but with that first taste, I was hooked.

I loved the rich flavour of her juices; but more than that, I loved her reaction. I’d made her cum before using my fingers, but this was something different. I suspect it was the novelty of the experience more than my technique.  Let’s be honest, I hadn’t a clue what I was supposed to do; but whatever I was doing, she was enjoying it. Her hand was in my hair, pulling me towards her and, after the initial shock had worn off, she started letting me know which combination of speed, pressure and location worked for her. When I added a finger or two into the mix, she came so hard and so violently, I ended up (I discovered later) with bruises in the small of my back where her heels had dug into me.

The Oral Sex ProjectThirty odd years, and quite a few partners later, it is still something that I enjoy, and savour. It is fair to say that cunnilingus is one of, if not my actual, favourite sexual activities. In a recent post, I described myself as a sensualist; I am someone for whom my enjoyment of sex is enhanced by the interactions with my senses. When it comes to sex, for me at least, cunnilingus is very much a full sensory experience.

First there is the sight. The seeing my partner lying there, opened up for me. Seeing her moisture glisten on her labia, which are, themselves, pink and inflamed. It’s seeing the small movements, the involuntary flinches as I lick her.

Then there is the sound. The sound of my tongue as it laps against her. The sounds of my fingers inside her cunt as they assist my mouth with its task. The sounds of her breathing, her moans and sighs as her pleasure grows and her orgasm first approaches and then ignites.

There is touch. The texture of her most sensitive flesh against my tongue. The wetness of her cunt around my fingers. The pressure of her thighs against the sides of my face and her hand on the back of my head, not letting me go as I feast upon her.

Then there is scent. That rich, heady scent of her arousal that I breathe in.

But most of all there is taste. That sweet, rich flavour; so individual to each woman. The way her flavour deepens with her arousal. That sharp, intoxicating change of flavour that tells me when she cums.

For me, when a woman reaches orgasm on the end of my tongue, it is almost like sensory overload. Every sense is involved. Every sense is participating, combining to enhance the experience, building my own enjoyment and pleasure from hers.

Yes, I am a sensualist, and cunnilingus is the greatest all-round “food” for my senses.


Time & Distance

Wicked WednesdayIt starts, as it so often does, with an early morning text message. It’s not even a particularly naughty one; often no more than a “Good morning” or “Did you sleep well?” The scene, however, is already set.

As the morning progresses, the level of suggestion in the exchanged messages deepen.  Selected pins from Pinterest are used to convey desire, to express what is being felt, to emphasis what we would do if we weren’t miles apart, if the hours instantly passed and we were together.

The ante is upped as the quotes make way for the images from Tumblr; each one that little bit more explicit, more graphic than the last, each one a statement of intent.

As the day progresses we tease and arouse and seduce each other with words and images. She knows I long to taste her, to lick her and feast on her until she cums hard on the tip of my tongue. I know she wants to take me in her mouth, to lick and suck that part of me that she has made so hard.

We both know what we want and need, and that is each other; skin against skin, our lips pressed together, me inside her, our bodies joined.

As the clock ticks down the minutes of the last hour of separation we enter the calm before the storm.

My phone flashes. “I’m home” it reads.

“On my way” I reply.

“Let yourself in, I’m waiting for you…”