HappyComeLucky

That twitch. The twitch of his cock in response to you. Sometimes it is in response to my touch. Sometimes it is in anticipation of my touch. Whichever it is, I love that twitch.

I love cocks. I love the way they look, the way they feel, the way they taste and the way they twitch and pulsate. Writing this, I keep pausing to run my fingertip across my flesh, igniting the memory of the same touch on his cock. Sometimes that touch, and the twitch and throb in response, are so perfect that I temper my need to taste and focus on the power and possibilities of touch. Instead of curling my fingers around, I use the tips to caress, to awaken and to lovingly tease. Each throb delights me and urges me further. Each changing sensation of that beautiful length getting harder and harder makes me need to play longer. 

If the time is right and both myself and he are willing, I take playing with those sensations and responses further. The feedback loop becomes perfectly intoxicating. The throb and pulse, accompanied by the moan or gasp as my hand squeezes and tightens. The way that his whole body becomes involved in responding and processing every sensation. My careful focus and determination as I caress those balls into position, rolling them in my hands and then squeezing them slowly tighter and tighter. 

There is an amazing beauty in watching someone revel in the endorphin that you are pushing through their body. The connection is so strong and my body answers with the memory of how that surge feels. I know how processing and feasting on the sensations of long slow pain feels to me and watching him breathe, and pause, and tense, and relax is a symphony of response. Each squeeze, or twist, or pull seems to make his soaring pleasure shine so bright. When I am sure that he is floating high on endorphins, then is the time to carefully strike. No stinging slaps, just careful blows to push that feeling even higher.

There was a time when I could never have done any of these things. The idea of me doing this was inconceivable, but now, and only with my utter trust in him, there are occasions when it isn’t only his taste which whets my appetite.