I wake. It’s early. I look at you; the face of an angel, deep in the arms of the mistress of sleep. I study your lips, your jaw line, your beautiful nose you think is imperfect. If only you knew how truly perfect you are. I gaze at your body, drink in the freedom to watch you without your knowing. Even though you drive the car, we both know it’s me who keeps a foot on the gas and the brake. I appreciate that and I want to show you, to celebrate the way you love me, knowing what I need, silently giving me what is necessary for me to be the strong, sexy, amazing woman I am with you. I shift to my side, one arm holding my head up, tuck in close to your radiator body. You moan softly. You stiffen just a little, floodgates open and in you flow. Funny how parts of you wake long before you do. My mouth is wet and I eat a peach while lazily dancing my eyes around your body, soaking you in. I suck my fingers clean and graze my tips over the luscious V your pelvis makes, the one that runs vertical down to your beautiful, powerful groin. I run my fingers around the edge of your lower hairline. More flow to you. I trace the imaginary line a bikini would follow on you, if you were to wear one, down to under your warmest, most delicate parts, barely touching you. You can’t really feel me but the you that’s awake does. You spread your legs a little, subconsciously. You are now hammer hard. One squeeze from you and you’ll throb like a heart beat. To watch you clutch and release in random increments makes my mouth water. A wisp of touch smoothes up your length, runs circles around your veined tip, ducks into the little pool of space under your head. I love your cock. It isn’t you but then again, it is and I want to show you on the most basic primary level this love I have for you and your beloved princely parts.

I scoot my frame down the length of yours, rest my featherweight head and silky hair on your belly, your breath pushes me up then draws me near, under your rib cage I pause. I slide further south and rest on the firm surface your abdomen makes. Your tip is right in my face; beautiful curves, firm, taunt, with a drop of wet glistening. I can stick my tongue out and tease you, so I do. This is the time when my mouth is wettest, when I’ve been able to drink you in visually, to study you without your study back, to really see you at rest and I’m hungry now, and ready to give to you with this very wet, appreciative mouth. My tongue slides out, touches your tip, then laps at your wetness and my lips fold over your head, ever so delicately. My mouth, warm, wet; your cock, full and firm. Together at last. I rest your head in my mouth and slowly close you into me. On my tongue, lush lips closed snugly around you. You squirm, transcend to waken, “mmmm” and stretch like a lion to get more into my mouth. I don’t have to see your face to know you are smiling to yourself, feeling rewarded; so lucky to have this beautiful woman who takes you in her mouth each morning and treats you like a prince. The hands I fell in love with reach for me; one slides into my soft hair, the other stretches down my back, soft with your heat mixed with my own. I enter you further and take a little slurp, sucking you into the roof of my mouth.

You arch. And I slide you out. And the next time my mouth reaches you is it salivating and I slide, dip you all the way into me, slowly inching my way down to your base. Your head brushes the back of my throat and I close it around you, trying to stuff you down, swallowing whole. Wetness seeps out my corners and gradually runs down your shaft, into your hair and between your thighs. Your balls are moist and my hands move to them softly, slowly embracing them to provide warm security for your flight. My mouth moves instinctually over you, in and out, sucking, releasing; a combination of what I know you love, what you whispered you loved in our first weeks of making love--don’t think I’d ever forget—and my intrinsic passion as a woman with a succulent mouth, who hungers to fill it with sexuality, with life, with wet, with action, with heat. I untuck my arm from out between your body and mine and slide it under the small of your back. I lift your hips up a little to position you more directly into my mouth; my aim. I take you down again, slowly, pause then pull up. I surge you into me, hesitate and pull out. The rise and fall of your breath tells me where you are. With fluid motion, I briefly pull my hand out from under you and lick it sopping wet, then slide back under you and in between your legs. You now have your sublimely beautiful cock nestled down my throat and my wet delicate fingers gingerly stroking between you. Your body relaxes and I plunge you further into my mouth and quicken my pace. Steady, rhythmic. To you, to me, down, up, in, out, you, me, all wet. I start edging you on, moaning a little as your hand melts down my back and between my legs. To hell with that and without missing a movement, I slide my body atop yours, chest to belly, upside down, I wrap my thighs around your face and push myself into your open panting mouth. Now we are as close as we’ll ever be at knowing what the other feels like in sexual bliss. You are catching me up with you and I am keeping on, keeping you coming, so close, so close. I’m moaning, “mmm-hmm” breathhhh, “mmmm-hmmm” in a low, lusty growl and you are pulling my hips into your mouth, so hungry, so loving me. Each time you pull, you rock yourself in and out of my sucking mouth, until I’m simply rocking hard atop you, into you, you into me and I press your most delicate package up to your base and wrap my fingers tightly around all of you and with three powerful strokes into my throat, you push yourself down, down, down into coming and I buzz my lips around you, sucking you down, inviting you in this most intimate way to give to me what I wanted to give to you. From loving you what I have learned is that when you serve me, I serve you and when I give you what I want to give you and what you will ultimately want, I get what I want, what I need in turn.  END

Each fantasy is crafted from an orgasm-rich personal experience, seared in my head and poured onto page. These are my fantasies, my dreams, my ultimate orgasms. If you provide the necessary components, sparse but clear, I’ll craft a personal fantasy for your own collection but I’ll have to feel it first. If it’s fake or wimpy, I won’t deliver. Make it original, deep, penetrating and you’ll have a first class flight to coming, twined in my style.