Subsequent morning, fittingly, it’s his cock that wakes me,
insistently urgent towards the crack of my ass; it’s
someday effectively earlier than daybreak, the room darkish and gentle as
blue chenille, and although his penis is up and strutting
about, cock-a-doodle-doo, H remains to be snoozing with
his arm round my waist. Nonetheless he’s
unconsciously thrusting his pelvis towards me, his
erection instinctively looking for entrance into my heat,
gentle physique. It’s endearing, I believe, this blind drive to
hump me. I’d prefer to encourage it at each alternative.
Sure, that’s it, the concept I wish to get throughout: I’m a
thing-for-fucking.
I attain behind me and snatch H’s cock and information
it between the cheeks of my ass, which is already
sticky with the precum of his earlier somnolent efforts
to penetrate me. The top of his cock feels so clean,
so smooth, so sizzling…and so very large towards my tight
little gap. Alas, I can’t await the day when H can
merely roll over and sleepily fuck me at will, bend me
over anyplace and in all places, at any time when the temper strikes
him, to deposit an pressing load of cum in my ass.
And why cease there? Mouth, ass, even when they hole me
out a cunt…it hardly appears as if the physique’s potential
to provide pleasure has been even shut to totally utilized.
For example, I can think about “designer orifices” being
opened throughout my physique, heat moist pockets at numerous
fetishized locations the place a person may wish to fuck me.
With a cunt cored out of my sole, as an illustration, a person
may screw me within the foot as I wiggled my toes to
intensify his orgasm; with different strategically positioned
cunts, I could possibly be fucked within the chest, between my tits,
underneath my arm, between the shoulder-blades, and even in
the again of my head, the place maybe a person may shoot
his cum instantly into my mind—think about that, a
braingasm!
The liquidity of my sexuality, pouring because it does from
one gender into one other, respecting no boundaries,
causes me to query the very notion of erogenous
fixities—i.e. whether or not such libidinal localities do or
even ought to exist—and to contemplate my want for the
not possible as one thing completely pure… a logical
extension of my irrationality, one thing not not like
what was as soon as mankind’s want to journey to the moon.
As it’s, I’m already one thing of a sexual proteus,
an ever-changing, unnatural object of male fantasy. Why
shouldn’t I then have on the very least seven or eight
totally different cunts for a person to fuck me in?
For now, in lieu of orifices not but prepared, or nonetheless
imaginary, I’m simply going to need to make due with the
one gap I’ve at my disposal, making an attempt to make up in
versatility and availability what it lacks in novelty
and selection. An asshole, in spite of everything, hasn’t the mobility
and responsiveness—the loquaciousness, let’s say—of a
mouth, nor can a cunt boast a muscle inside as
possessive of wily intelligence and as topic to
voluntary management because the tongue.
There’ll all the time be one thing uniquely transgressive
about fucking a mouth. No different bodily orifice whether or not
used for intercourse or not has the ability to speak with
the subtlety and complexity of language. One can’t assist
however really feel that is important, even with out considering the
matter all through to its logical and
metaphorical conclusions.
After which, in fact, there’s the entire matter of
fucking me within the face—probably the most distinctly distinctive and
particular person a part of my physique—the factor that makes me
“me.” An ass is faceless—it may be any one among a
thousand, ten thousand asses. A cunt is each bit as
masked and nameless. To stay a cock into both of
these locations, ass or cunt, is to defile nothing, it’s a
zero-sum recreation, a sexual draw. Ass, cock, cunt—it’s a
horizontal development, equal backwards and forwards,
an erotic palindrome. No hierarchy is disturbed, no
idol pulled down, right here now we have neither revolution, nor
vandalism. However to fuck a face is to show the ladder
the other way up.
A cock plunging out and in of a face is to deface—a
graffiti of semen sprayed throughout the Mona Lisa. A pair
of bushy black balls bouncing towards a chin is the
Dali-esque metaphoric equal of the bristling and
swollen bellies of two massive spiders assaulting the
angelically golden visage of a sunflower. It evokes
in us a perverse frisson of irresistible repugnance and
shuddering fascination. I counsel, as Bataille may,
that that is nothing lower than a imaginative and prescient of God.
I handle to extricate myself from H’s embrace simply
sufficient to show round with out fairly waking him. He
murmurs, stirs, grabs at me blindly. I slip underneath the
sheets the place his cock is jutting up from beneath his
heat and furry stomach. Did I say a imaginative and prescient of God?
Maybe it’s the Goat of Mendes. However is there actually a
distinction? I slowly lick the shaft, watching how the
gentle contact of my tongue-tip makes his cock leap and
lunge.
I ponder if he’s having a intercourse dream; if that’s the case, I ponder if
sucking his cock will make it glow extra intensely. If H
isn’t having a intercourse dream, perhaps sucking him off will
encourage one. I’m his suckubus, his cum angel, his cock-
a-doodle-do, and my complete raison d’etre is to
facilitate his early-morning R.E.M. orgasm.
Sooner or later earlier than he deposits his load into my
mouth, H is extra awake than asleep and, accordingly,
his thrusts develop longer and stronger, till, finally,
he grows nonetheless and stiff to lengthen the penultimate
second. Then it’s sliding over my tongue, slippery as
egg yolk, my breakfast, a surprisingly copious quantity
of semen. I swallow, like Rocky Balboa in coaching. I
come up from the tangle of sheets and H motions me into
his arms.
“Good morning,” I whisper, licking my cum-slicked lips.
“Sorry if I woke you. However you had been so laborious.”
“Oh child. I’m not complaining. What a method to get up.”
“It’s nonetheless early,” I purr, happy as punch that I’ve
began the time without work proper doing one thing proper. And I
haven’t even gotten away from bed but! There’s hope for me
but. “Return to sleep. I’ll begin the espresso.”