I kiss him on the lips, pressing my breasts into his chest, caressing his cock through his jeans pocket. It is conveniently veering left and I can touch it with my well-trained right hand. I rub it back and forth slowly through the cotton lining of the pocket. He is getting longer, harder, breathing heavier. I worry that the cotton lining is a bit harsh – cocks are so unbelievably soft. He does not seem to mind – this is a stage where pain ceases to exist.

I squat down with my knees spread wide and start unzipping his jeans. He submerges his fingers into my hair and pulls me closer to his groin, his eyes fixed on my wet lips. I stick my hand into his trousers and get out what is now a velvety soft, large cock. It’s very straight, this will make my part very easy and his very pleasant. I look up into his eyes and smile.

Then stick my tongue out and touch the tip of his cock. He moans, closes his eyes and bends his head backwards, his nostrils open.

I lick more of it, now attaching my lips to the tip and sticking my tongue gently inside it. I touch him with my teeth – I have to be careful; they can be extremely sharp at points and I do not want this to interrupt his ascent. My teeth softly graze the tip from all sides, quicker and quicker, interspersed with my tongue wrapping around it.

I slowly palm his shaft and start moving my hand back and forth, lift his cock up and tenderly massage his balls with the other hand. Then, I lean forward and take one of the balls into my mouth, caressing it inside with my tongue; then the other. My tongue climbs up his shaft vibrating as it does so, which makes his hands cup into two tightly squeezed fists in my hair.

My tongue reaches the tip, circling it until I hear him moan. Then I distance myself from him, looking up. He looks down, his eyes hazy.

I open my mouth wide, slowly. Leeching my eyes onto his I move my head forward, his hands relaxing and freeing my head. He watches my lips as one would a hypnotist’s swinging charm, intently, as I slowly impale myself onto him. He touches the back of my throat, my lips pressed around him tightly and I gag. I take him out, covered in stringy, viscous saliva, stretching from my lips to his cock like threads of a wet cobweb.

‘You can’t imagine what a beautiful sight it is,’ are his only words before I swallow him again and now move my head back and forth, gagging myself, pulling him out, sticking him back in, my eyes watering.

I lick him passionately, his groans getting louder. I wrap my hands around his naked thighs and feel them trembling. He is close.

I swallow him again and this time I keep moving back and forth, from the very tip to the very base, steadily, with purpose, my hands folded firmly around his legs.

He clutches my hair and holds me in place while moving in and out slightly, echoing my movement, then more and more aggressively until I feel his cock hit the back of my throat and his juice stream out in a violent burst. I squeeze my lips around the tip of his cock and suck him dry. He shouts. It’s a very guttural sound, similar to someone getting hurt. He shivers as if shocked by electric current, then his muscles relax. He sighs as if very sleepy, looks down, smiles. His hand runs across my forehead catching a strand of hair and pushes it behind my ear. His hand is very soft, hot, almost burning.

I relax too. I carefully take him out of my mouth, then press the side of my face into his crotch. His skin is baby soft. He slowly strokes my hair, with both hands. It is this moment of intimacy that I absolutely love - the post-coital rush of hormones, the moment when logic returns and everything around seems crystal clear.   

I stand up and kiss his tired lips.

Then I sit him down in an armchair and make him a drink. I like taking care of men. Especially when they are that tired.