Mar 042014
 

Her head was between my legs, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock, the shaft gripped tightly in her hand, when she asked me this.

For a moment, I was paralyzed. Was she serious? Was this a real question?

But she was. It was.

I don’t know if the answer I gave was what she was looking for, but I made a mental note to write more on the subject. Of course, cock-sucking isn’t exactly a neglected subject on this blog – I’ve written lots about how I like my cock sucked. I’ve written about what I’m thinking about when I’m getting my cock sucked. But I don’t think I’ve written about why I like getting my cock sucked, precisely what it is that I like about it.

So here goes.

I’ll use the recent experience of Angela’s sucking my cock to explore this issue. (Angela, you’ll recall, I met through Ashley Madison, and she’s come for me a few times now, three of which orgasms I’ve provided you for your listening pleasure.)

There are several different angles from which to approach the joys of a blowjob. In this post, I tackle simply the sensual pleasures. I don’t mention (other than glancingly, here) the pleasure of her being solely devoted to my pleasure. Or of seeing her dark eyes looking up at me as her pretty face is filled with cock. Or of the control I’m exerting over her when I yank her down on me, up off me, using her head, or better yet, her hair. Or of the meaning I attach to the feeling of my cum shoot deep in her throat as I twitch and moan and buck and grunt. All that, for a later post. Or the meaning of the whole thing, come to think of it….

No – for now, I’m sticking to the physical sensation of Angela’s mouth, and hands, on my cock.

Cock-sucking, done right, isn’t one thing. It’s not just a head bobbing up and down on my cock, providing some combination of warmth, wetness, and friction, until I come. No, it’s not that at all.

Much more than with fucking, blowjobs are about contrast. Contrasts in pressure, in temperature, in types of sensation, speed, intensity.

First, she unbuttoned my jeans. (“Three buttons!” she whined. To be fair, I had made her wait sufficiently long that she was begging.) As each button came undone, there was a reduction in the pressure on my hard cock. Denim, more than any other fabric, offers resistance, confinement. In khakis, my cock may strain against fabric, but there’s so much more “give.” In denim, I feel acutely just how imprisoned, how limited, my cock is as it grows harder. And as the buttons came undone in her fingers, my cock sprung – not quite free – the boxer briefs remained, offering cotton tension where previously denim rigidity had reigned.

The buttons undone, the jeans slid off (I had, of course, asked her to remove my socks already), and my cock now was one step closer to the start of the blowjob, the formal commencement of activities. Angela breathed hot, damp breath on me through the cotton, and the contrasts continued. In my boxers, it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t cool. It was warm. But Angela’s breath – and her mouth – introduced not warmth but hotness to my cock, albeit still one step removed from it.

She gripped my cock through my boxer briefs (striped, red and black), introducing pressure once again to the mix, this time as her hands squeezed, and then relaxed, squeezing again, relaxing again. Her breaths on me continued as well, contrasts now ratcheting up in the two dimensions of pressure and temperature (and with the hint of the wetness to come in the moisture in her breath).

My shaft still confined, straining against fabric, Angela’s tongue made first contact with my head. She gently licked it, flicked it, as she grabbed the base of my cock tightly, through the cotton. Cool air flowed briefly over the head in the instant between when it peeked out and when her tongue (finally!) found it. And while her tongue was warm, wet, it was local. It touched just one spot at a time, adding weak pressure to the mix as it did so, and making the spot she had just touched, but from which she had moved on, feel colder, more exposed, hungrier – for pressure, moisture, heat.

Until her lips closed around the head, engulfing it, providing just a little of those sensations I’d been craving on just a little bit of my increasingly aching cock.

With my help, she eased my boxers down my legs, over my ankles, and my cock, now half-wet, and 100% exposed, was cold, hard, dry (except where she had licked the tip), twitching, hungry. At this moment, nude, exposed, I was experiencing the far end of the spectrum with respect to every contrast provided in a first-rate blowjob.

And then… and then…

She opened her mouth, and as her tongue swirled under the head, her lips wrapped around the shaft of my cock and she began to slide her whole head up and down my cock. The pressure was increasing, my cock was wet, hot, in her mouth. And as she lifted her head, more and more of my cock was exposed to the cool (room-temperature, really) air.

Up and down she went, helped along, speeded up, slowed down, guided, by my hands. I grabbed her head, her black, shiny hair. I pulled her up, I pushed her down, and as I did, I tried desperately to control the sensations in my cock. In a brutal face-fucking, I can control all these sensations.

But I don’t want to.

In this kind of a blowjob, a ministration, I don’t, I can’t control everything – because there’s more. There’s the swirling of her tongue, its flicking, its pressure. There’s what she’s doing with her lips – pressing them firmly against my cock, letting them simply be brought along for the ride of her jaw, somewhere in between. There’s her jaw, the engine behind the effort: lifting her up and down, giving her access to all the parts of my cock. There are her hands, gripping my cock tightly, loosening a bit, easing up on the pressure, and going up and down a bit on their own. (She didn’t, I should say, touch my balls, my taint, my ass. Next time, maybe I’ll remind her to give me a little stimulation there. But maybe not: those areas are places are places I like sometimes to be touched, but not always.) And there’s the speed of the whole endeavor – mostly driven by her, but with input from me in the form of my hands on her head, my bucking hips, some of which she took, some of which she resisted.

So there was wet and dry, hot and cold, pressure and none, fast and slow, friction and looseness. All of this, Angela expertly was alternating, mixing up, as she attended to my cock.

Hours (literally) passed between the first time her mouth descended on my cock that night and the moment when I filled her mouth with my cum, when she devoted herself to ensuring that every drop went down her throat. It wasn’t just one long blowjob. There was fucking, and pussy-licking, and spanking, and masturbation, and…. You get the picture.

But this is the first chapter of my answer to her question: what do I like so much about getting my cock sucked?

  10 Responses to “What do you like so much about having your cock sucked? Chapter 1”

  1. interesting, we all have our likes and dislikes when it comes to oral. Thank you for sharing

  2. As Lord Raven said, oral sex is such an individual thing. I think it’s great that you guide her head, that you are not afraid to direct. That definitely increases the odds of you getting a better blow job.
    I really liked this, and you describe such details that it’s an easy-to-follow guide for women looking to give better head.

  3. What a wonderful hot read! Thanks for elaborating on every thing you feel, everything you see, all sensations!

    Rebel xox

    PS: Will you consider to add this to the Fellatio Project on my site? (http://rebelsnotes.com/meme/fellatio-project/)

  4. the feeling of my cock being pampered by someone is really great!

  5. It is interesting to read the other end of the spectrum, and I agree with Cammies, it will help you receive a better blow job. I would like to say I will think of this the next time I give head, but in all honesty, it is often when I am not using “skills” or technique that I get off on it. It is, as is often the case with sex, when I abandon conscious thought and let myself just feel, experience the moment, that I am able to enjoy a blow job. But I will be cognizant of the contrasts, and use that to my advantage, because the whole point, after all, is to drive a man insane. Thank you.

  6. Nice read – the art of getting head!

  7. See as a woman I get what you enjoy about it. I love giving head, I love learning the places that make you quiver and moan. For a woman it is somewhat of a power trip even if you are attempting to guide and direct. When a woman does it well it is a wonderful thing for both parties. Giving them gets me as wet and aroused as it does them.

  8. It’s funny, I never gave much thought about what I do when I give head, until I started to write about it. And that’s when I realised that it is indeed similar to what you describe, the alternating of soft and hard, of hot and cold… But reading it from a man’s point of view is very nice, very instructive too 🙂

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