#HornyGirlProblems
I wrote this around about the time he was ditching me / unfriending / blocking me on every social media site without me realising. It seemed a shame to waste it.Β
Bacon Sandwiches & Blowjobs continued…
I’ve never given a blowjob with an actual ice cube in my mouth before. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve sucked on an ice cube and let it melt (or popped it out my mouth) to go down on a guy before, but I’ve never had an ice cube and a dick in my mouth at the same time. That all changed the other day when Brown Eyes playfully shoved one in my mouth and ordered me to suck his dick. Not that I needed much ordering. We all know how much I love sucking his dick.
The cube forced into my right cheek, he held the back of my head as I leaned forward over the arm of the couch and let him slowly slide himself into my mouth. I almost spluttered, fit to burst. The ice cube wasn’t small and it’s not like he’s small either. For a second, I wondered if I would need to admit defeat, especially as the frozen cube was starting to hurt the inner lining of my cheek, but as he slowly pulled out, I slipped it across my mouth to my left cheek and waited for him to slip back in again.
I threw my arms around his legs, the edge of the couch bringing my head to just about cock height with him standing in front of me, and grabbed his ass cheeks, letting my pointed black nails dig into his skin. Not enough to break it of course, just enough to remind him who’s boss. Me, for right now anyway.
Switching the ice cube from my left cheek to my right cheek and then back again with my tongue, each time he pulled his cock from my mouth, I grabbed at his ass to keep pulling him back in, yanking him towards me so his cock was filling my throat and I couldn’t breathe. He likes that sharp intake of air I do between long and deliberate thrusts. He knows he’s filling me completely. Like he’s almost too much. Almost, but not quite.
As the ice cube melted and he groaned at the coolness of my mouth, I kept switching, left to right, getting braver and more comfortable as it shrunk with the heat. The noises he made were incredible, real guttural groans that I can still hear.
As the cube finally disintegrated, I picked up the pace, bracing myself for him to empty himself in my mouth. He tastes good. Great, in fact. You know how some men just taste really, really good? That’s him. I can’t wait to swallow him. Every last drop of him.
Unpredictable as ever, he had other ideas. This time, he chose to finish inside me from behind as I knelt along his black leather couch. His hands were painfully grabbing at my hips and thighs, his entire weight slamming into me, but I didn’t cum this time. It wasn’t about me. It was about him. I would have much preferred it if he’d cum in my mouth, but, to be honest, he could finish anywhere he liked and I wouldn’t care. His wish is literally my command. I can’t get enough of him. Feeling him explode in my mouth or across my chest. Tasting him. Hearing him. Seeing him.
As he slumped on the couch, spent, I licked him clean. Just like I do every time, because he likes it and, if I’m honest, I quite like it too. Any that ends where it shouldn’t is lightly wiped up with his finger and delicately fed it into my mouth – one of those little things we do. Like an unspoken agreement, a moment of intimacy, right before he throws his big, tattooed, hairy arms around me and pulls me in close, nuzzling into my hair and telling me that he loves me. He tells me that every time I give him head. Every time I make him cum, in fact. I love that – my little gold star for being such a good girl.
I can’t wait to see him again. I can’t wait to take his beautiful eight-inch cock into my mouth and worship the entirety of it. I want to wear red lipstick and swallow him, leaving my kiss mark right at the base of it, knowing I’ve taken him in my mouth right to the hilt. I should get a photo of that. Not that I’d need it; it would be an image Iβd remember for the rest of my life anyway.
He really turns me on, this permanently mood-swinging 42-year-old man-child. Just the thought of being close to him causes my underwear to flood. Just like right now. I wore grey leggings today, which was a great idea for all of five minutes until my head got carried away and this blog post started to materialise.
Note to self: do not wear light grey-coloured clothing around this man; otherwise, everyone will see the damp patch.
#HornyGirlProblemsΒ
