T is for Time

Memories are the best time machine known to mankind. The happy ones you treasure and dissect, frame by frame, and time flows in slow motion. The horrible ones, you rush through them blazing fast. Time stands still for the most sacred. Both in my dreams and in real life, time stands still when I worship Nick’s cock.

No, I will not indulge you in the detail description of his cock, that’s nobody’s business but his and mine. I will note that it barely fits in my mouth. And I mean, I can’t do anything but hold it there. Not ideal, but we make it work. As Nick always says, it’s the effort that counts.

I like to start on his nipples and tug on them gently, much lighter than he bites into mine. Swirl my tongue around each one and give it another tug. If we are lying in bed, and I’m on top, I will feel him twitch against my stomach, but I keep teasing him. It’s a looong way down there, and I make every inch count, covering his chest with butterfly kisses, down to his navel that gets another wet swirl of the tongue. Nick would press on the top of my head, ordering me to move down south faster. I make a quick trip there to lick off the first drops and bring them back to him, to kiss off my lips, to get the first taste of himself. Then I would follow the trail of dark curly hair that leads me from his navel to the main course of my undivided attention.

Alright, alright, since no one will ever read this, here is a full confession: Nick has the prettiest cock. He’s big, but not too big. Slightly thicker than average. Not too veiny, like in those exaggerated AI pictures; I honestly don’t get this obsession with veins. I don’t get the obsession with gigantic cocks either. Seriously, cocks are meant to fit and bring pleasure. Not every woman enjoys a sore cervix. This woman isn’t. Duh!

When hard, and I mostly see him at twelve o’clock, it doesn’t curve to the side. Thanks to his mother, he’s circumcised. Hell, it’s even pretty when he’s soft and curls flat on his thigh. He doesn’t stay soft for long when I wake him up with my mouth. Truth be told, I rarely wake up earlier than him. Maybe when I interrupt his rare naps. Nick says that it’s the only legit reason to interrupt his naps haha!

My best toy, my magnet, just touching it brings me joy. Knowing that my worship pleases him fills me with the utmost joy. Nick adores my hands, maybe even more than my less-than-useful mouth, but he would never admit it to avoid discouraging me. I wrap one hand underneath his balls, so pretty and heavy at this moment. Nick is like a Ken doll, if Ken would have genitalia, perfect in all regards. And keep my other hand wrapped around the base. My lips hover around his tip, covering with my saliva. Once I spit on him and smeared it with my tongue; Nick shuddered and came on my tits that time. He was so embarrassed, but in his defense, he hasn’t seen me in five days, and as per our unspoken rule, all his come belongs to me. To make up for the disaster, he fucked me senseless an hour and a glass of orange juice later.

Time doesn’t move when he’s in my mouth, at least for me. I do not hurry; I do not rush. Every lick counts, every attempt to take him in deeper pushes me further into a revered timelessness. Until Nick would growl, “Kill it.”