Devoured

I used to be tepid on the subject of cunnilingus.

I didn’t mind giving it, but as I’d never gotten a tremendous amount of pleasure out of it, I didn’t invest a lot of time or thought in it. An accomplished male friend gave me instructions and a demo, and I assumed that made me above average, which was good enough for my purposes. I preferred being fingered, and I already knew how to do that well—to the extent that other women liked the same things I did, at least.

But then I had my first lover who ate pussy the way I eat cock—that is, like a child at his first birthday party, squishing the cake between his hands and stuffing it in his mouth and occasionally getting some in his eyes or hair. You know, a full-body, five-senses encounter with the sweet and sticky thing.

My initial obstacle, way back when, to enjoying having my pussy eaten was worrying that my partner was barely tolerating it. But a man who truly loves to go down on a woman is subsumed by the act—so much so I finally see this activity as a shared pleasure, not something he is doing to me but something we are doing. I bring the pussy; he brings the tongue. (And lips, and teeth, and sometimes the rest of his face.)

I suck cock for the pure pleasure of it—from the first time I tried it, I never turned down a chance to have a penis in my mouth, never shied away from swallowing. Sucking dick makes me come. The rhythm, the taste, the rubbing on my lips and tongue, feeling the guy get harder and hearing him moan—and the stuffed feeling of taking as much as I can—it all makes me excited and satisfied at the same time.

And then when he comes… I feel the completion, whether or not I’ve orgasmed.

I couldn’t tell you what happens when my lover sucks my pussy. I can only tell you that there’s sucking and licking and lapping and slapping and tongue-fucking.

And when he’s done, I’m fully in my pussy and not at all in my brain.