Let’s get one thing straight: sometimes your cum is a gift. A precious, delightful treasure that you bestow upon me for being a very good girl. And sometimes your cum is something you dispose of: splattering it onto me or dumping it into me like it is nothing more than trash. And by extension, so am I. The main thing that makes the difference here is tone – the way we’re fucking and what we’re saying to each other while we do it. But the best way to strike that tone can be achieved by putting your cum in my cunt versus cum in my ass.

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This breathtaking story about a blow job in a sex cinema is written and read by Joy as it Flies. Note that this scene contains breath play and BDSM. 

I love sucking his dick. Jesus, I love sucking his dick. I love the taste of it, the feel of it, the way it fits between my lips, the dimensions of it perfect as it slides towards the back of my throat, awash with saliva. I love the rhythm of it – the change of pace as I move from active to passive, as we swap from me using my mouth to him using my mouth and back again. I do not love this man, I barely even know him, but I am utterly infatuated with the sensation of his dick resting on my tongue.

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I’ve been thinking about dickheads a lot lately. I mean, specifically, the head of a dick. The most sensitive, lickable part. The bit that’s most fun to run your tongue over. The part that you can kiss with spit-moistened lips. I like paying special attention, during languid suck-jobs, to all the different ways I can use my tongue on the head: flat on the underside, swirls round the ridge, firm flicks over it from side-to-side or up-and-down. Right now, I’m obsessed with the head of a dick. The way the ridge of it feels solid against the topside of my tongue when I flatten it and lick. The way I can wet it with one smooth, wet motion – running my tongue around as I playfully pretend that I’m not going to put it all the way back in my throat. The noises I can suck out of someone when I finally dip the head into my waiting mouth, and the twitching agony in his body if I keep doing that – over and over – without ever swallowing the whole of him. Sorry. This is technically meant to be a review of the new Godemiche OffBeat masturbation sheaths, but already I’m distracted. Dick does that to me.

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We’re in bed, getting down to it, and usually my one-track mind is laser-focused on what it will feel like when he slides his dick inside me. At the moment when I realise that’s not going to happen – he’s slowly softening and the look on his face switches from horn to confusion or embarrassment – I remind myself how lucky I am that I don’t ever have to worry about erections myself. Twenty years ago, if a guy went soft on me, my main feeling would be heartbreak: he doesn’t fancy me enough. I’m ugly. Unsexy. Incapable of teasing a boner from him. Ten years ago, I’d be annoyed: did he have a wank before we met up? Has he had too much to drink? These days, frustration and sadness have (thankfully) made way for a different feeling: relief that the pressure isn’t on me.

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It is very very rare for me to stumble across weird sex that I haven’t already fantasised about, or seen elsewhere in porn, and as a result it took me a good long time to work out how to put this story down in words. 

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