When I suck a guy off I swallow his cum. Spitting it out is too much trouble, plus my swallowing makes him really happy.
When you want to avoid him coming in your mouth, move your mouth off of him and continue stroking his penis with your hand. He can ejaculate elsewhere:
• He can come on your closed lips.
• He can ejaculate onto other sexy places, such as your neck or chest.
• You can use both hands to stroke him to orgasm, then let one hand linger at the head and catch it when he comes.
• You can allow him to come in your mouth, but into the side of your mouth, your cheek. The ejaculate misses your tongue, where the taste buds can trigger a sensitive gag reflex. Then you can discreetly spit it into the hand on his penis.
One time he came in my mouth and I didn’t think I could deal with it, but at the last minute his penis slipped into my cheek and he came there, instead of on my tongue or in my throat. It was totally different, and easier.
During orgasm you may be either pushed away from his penis, or pulled closer to maximize penis-mouth contact. He might love having you continue to stroke him all the way through his orgasm, but some men find that the head is extremely sensitive right after orgasm and can barely stand the slightest movement. Slowing your motions and stopping as he is coming is a good idea; most men will stop you if it feels too intense and they want you to hold still. You can lightly kiss and lick his cock after he comes, or you can tenderly hold it in your mouth or hand for a few minutes. Then, make your way up to eye level and see what he feels like doing next—he may just need a few minutes to relax in his post-orgasmic haze. If he’s sensitive about cleanliness and scent, wipe your face with a damp washcloth (the one you thoughtfully placed by the bed earlier) before you kiss him on the face or lips.
She pulled up my underpants and pants, rezipped, buttoned, and buckled them, and lay down on my chest. We hugged and kissed, and I could smell the strong scent of my sperm from deep in her throat, and taste it on her lips and tongue.
Boys Will Be Boys
by Alison Tyler
We form a perfect union when we 69. Jarred on top and me on the bottom, cocks between lips, hands moving and roaming. The fact that he’s black and I’m white simply adds to the theme. Photo negatives. Mirror images. Reflections in still water.
There are plenty of occasions when we don’t take our time. Moments when it’s all about the end. All about shooting, creaming, and then collapsing. During those times, the romance of our relationship fades and we just f-u-c-k—fuck. Slam into each other with everything we’ve got. Sweaty, groping, fists and fingers, eyes shut, mouths open.
But now, in the late-afternoon light, we are in love, and we take things slowly. I caress the sweet, swollen head of his cock using only my full lips, wet from a single lick. No tongue yet. Cradling the rounded head, teasing it with the slippery kisses that I know will make him want to go fast. He rewards—or is it tortures?—me with the same behavior. Millimeter by millimeter, he works his dreamy mouth over the tip of my throbbing dick before finally sliding his lips down the shaft.
More slowly, I suck him, paying attention to every single sensation as I pump my mouth up and down. His earthy taste, his honey smell, the way his balls hang down, the way he groans when I graze them with my fingers or tug them gently as I suck a little harder.
When I become so focused on every second, I realize that I am paying attention to more than just Jarred. More than just sex. In the still afternoon, I am aware. The mattress is firm beneath me. The sound of an old jazz record plays in the apartment next door, scritch-scratching every few bars in a way that a CD can’t. The rhythm of Jarred’s breathing seems to match the music. The one thing I forget about is me. I am gone, no longer important, no longer a player.
That is, until Jarred uses his teeth.
Not to bite, but to nip, so lightly that I feel I am going to cry. It’s unlike any other thing he does. Unlike any other sensation I’ve ever experienced. He lets his lips part, lets his tongue rest behind his lower teeth, and works me up and down with just the bare edges of his teeth, the very, very tips of them. It’s like being cradled between the jaws of a lion.
I see pictures in my mind when he does this. I think of Jarred at his studio, surrounded by sculptures in progress, surrounded by stone, by wet clay. I think of him with his abundant utensils and interesting tools, scratching softly in the surface. Then digging a little deeper. Making a mark.
To him, I know, I am a work in progress, a piece of art that calls out to be completed. And with his little tricks he claims me, names me, his voice a rumble behind my cock as he starts to talk.
“Suck harder,” he says in a tone that is almost a whisper. “Suck me like you mean it, Michael.” The rumbling vibrations of his words against my skin send me higher, and I do as he asks. My mouth closes in, the walls of my throat become tight. I am a vacuum. I am a machine. Slow becomes fast as I slide my mouth back and forth, giving him everything he wants. Who am I to hold back? Who am I to withhold pleasure?
Lips, tongue, sweet, wet mouth. Hard, soft, changing like the light changes in the room. Like the music changes one wall away. We are in tune. We are jazz. In perfect synch, we work each other. His bone moves deeper, deeper into my throat, and I swallow as forcefully as I can against him. I want to drain him. I want to devour him.
He echoes every motion. Until I forget who started what. Until I forget where I end and he begins. And then one of us does something new, and off we go on another route. My hand now around the base of his cock, holding tight there as I lick the tip. His fingers pressing up behind my balls, teasing me there, when he knows just a little pressure at that magic spot will make me want to fuck him. Roll over and just fuck him. It’s like this forever. Slip-sliding up to the climax and then back down from it.
My mouth is a hungry beast, and I swallow on him once again. Jarred won’t let me get away with that. He uses the whole flat of his tongue to massage and caress underneath the head of my cock, so that I release him completely and loll back on the mattress, unable to move because it feels so fucking good.
We are playing a game without rules.
Playing like boys do, to see who will win.
CHAPTER 8
Any Way You Want It
Nothing is more fun than having choices and possibilities—and fellatio is amazingly adaptable to environment, preference, and personal style. You can custom-tailor a session of head to suit your needs or your partner’s needs in almost any way imaginable. A position can enhance physical pleasure or a conjured fantasy. Fellatio can be the ticket to overcoming physical obstacles, such as a disability. You can use fellatio performed on a strap-on to set fire to an already sizzling sex life. Or, you can explore the ways to customize your physical approach to giving head to make it more comfortable, combat jaw fatigue, or strengthen your skills by learning how to take a penis or dildo all the way in your mouth and throat: learning to “deep throat.”