I’m 42-years-old and had the first experience of being revered sexually. This man essentially worshiped my body, he took the time to kiss, lick, bite, splay, suck, scratch, almost every inch of me. He began with my stomach, just below my breasts, his goatee scratching my skin. I watched him bend to me, compliant, and me, supplicant.
“Put that mask on,” he demands, making sure that my eyes are properly covered.
He scratches my stomach with his goatee, and he makes noises between a groan and a grin, if a smile could be heard it would be like this. I place my hands onto his bald head and he gently pushes them away, palms facing up.
“May I?” he asks, and I say, “Yes!” already quivering with excitement, my mind racing and thinking, ‘This is it! It’s really happening, this is happening!”
He moves up to my shoulders, licking and biting, then to my palms, face up, he kisses the inside of my palm, making it glisten with his tongue, he kisses my wrist, his body hovers above me, and then I don’t feel him, and I’m in this limbo state, heightened by the fact I can’t see, not knowing where he is or what he will do. I then feel him near my shoulder, he breathes me in deep, and I sense his girth, hard and solid between my legs. He shoves them open, forcefully, and my hips are moving in slow circles, undulating towards him, and I sigh.
He continues to lick and suck and bite and kiss, my forearms, my rib cage, my calves, my achilles tendon. He makes his way to my kitten and I’m so very eager for his touch there, but he moves back up again and flicks a tongue across my newly pierced nipples. They’re still sore and sensitive from the piercing and his tongue makes me more aroused.
He begins to touch me there with his fingers, gently parting me and he blows on me, licks, drinking me, the blows air onto me, and I’m saying, “Yes, yes please.” I try to touch him and he pushes my hands away. I try to touch myself and he pushes my hands away. “Can I touch you?” I ask and he says, “No.”
He begins to suck me more forcefully and my hips rise to his mouth, my clit swelling as I get thisclose and then he stops, and he blows on me. I imagine his gaze upon me and I wish that I could see his blue eyes, wish that I could be touching his skin.
He then continues to lick and suck, bringing me to the brink and then holding me back, and by the time he slides a finger inside of me and then one becomes two coupled with the steady pace of his tongue, I am flailing like a fish out of water.
“You want to come for me?” he asks, “You going to come for me?”
“Yes!” I exclaim.
“Take that fucking mask off!” he demands, and I do, seeing him, staring, right at me, his fingers inside me, and he pushes down on my stomach, just below my belly, and I can feel the pressure RIGHT THERE of two fingers inside me and the hand pushing down and he looks at me, “Don’t close your eyes, don’t you close your fucking eyes!” and my eyes are closing, becoming mere slits, wanting to slide into the feeling, and he pulls me back.
I look right at him, sardonically, and he says, “Oh, I like that look” and he moves the fingers in me and comes closer to kiss me, I’m eager for his kiss, I’m anxious to feel his tongue, all the sensations at one time, all on a saturday morning, it’s not even 9am.
He tells me it’s all for me, “It’s all for you, this is about you!” and he holds me, caresses me, always touching a part of my body as we lay in bed together, sunlight streaming in. “Your heart is beating so fast. You’re shaking!” he says, “I love it!” and he asks if I liked it. “No,” I reply, “I loved it.”
“That’s just the appetizer,” he says, and I laugh along with him. I try speaking, me, who was so eloquent the night before, suddenly I can’t talk and he loves that I’m tongue tied, twisted, spent, like a wet noodle in a puddle of sauce, engulfed.