I stroke myself, slowly, feeling my shaft extend, harden, grow. I imagine how last Christmas your mouth enveloped my cock, lips parting and tongue exposed as you kneeled there. I fed you my excitement, inch by slow inch, into your hungry mouth. I thought it was a present at the time, this activity that you didn’t do very frequently, offering it so willingly on Christmas night.
Later, I would know how wet you were, how you were dripping in that moment. I grip my cock harder, almost too tightly, my hand going from base to head in a rhythm that makes me feel my balls tighten. My other hand slips down to caress them, to feel the change in sensation. I imagine how your greedy mouth closed down upon me, your tongue caressing the tip, delving and exploring the underside of my head, applying pressure as your lips slide down my shaft where my hand is now fully engaged. As my hand comes back up, I imagine it’s the back of your throat and I become almost painfully hard in my excitement.
I couldn’t believe you had let me go that far back at the time, now I realize the desperation that created that gift. You wanted me to give my pleasure in your mouth, to grow soft and grateful. I fell in love with you in that moment.
My hands become more aggressive on myself, I feel the buildup. Is it terrible that there are moments where I still crave that moment with you? Such a fool, that’s why I keep my distance.
As I feel myself pulsing and the peak of release, I see your face, feel you gag at the tip of my head. As my white cum shoots out and away from my body, I think of how you were oozing some other man’s cum from between your legs, how that is why you needed me to find my release in your mouth, because you were worried about what I would discover in your body.