Yesterday the Lost Soul and I met up. I’d messaged him the night before to see if he was free for a drink (being a little drunk at this point myself and abandoned in a bar by the Conqueror rushing back on his white steed to rescue his wife). Anyway, he was not free but it clearly reignited something in him and the next day I had offers of coffee, lunch, tea, until eventually we settled on meeting in the evening at a local pub. I drove. One drink only. One small glass of wine, a good chat, then a discussion about sex. He’s clearly gagging for it. So tense and desperate for release of any kind. Even talking about my sex life does not torment but excite him. He’s that lost.
We then go back to his for coffee. It’s obvious what he wants but what is not yet obvious is what I am prepared to give him. He invites me upstairs ‘while he gets changed’. I am curious to see if the bedroom I have not been in for over a year is still the same. It is. I’m a little nervous as I haven’t sorted out in my mind what I am going to do. I think he is approaching me and I jerk away. He is in fact just reaching for his shirt hanging over the rail at the foot of the bed and looks at me strangely so I have to explain. ‘I thought you were going to grab me’ I say. He seems to think that is an invitation and pushes me hard against the bed rail and I quickly move away and back downstairs.
He comes down in his shirt and pants. He sits on the sofa knowing I am conflicted and that he will be able to tempt me. Tempt me yes but as to what I don’t know yet. I speak sensibly about how good it has been since we stopped fucking and it would be silly to go back. He remains silent and starts stroking his cock through his pants. I don’t want to look. I cover my eyes like a child. When I move my hands away from my eyes, I see his cock is out. Semi-hard. It’s like a light comes on. I want it in my mouth.
I move quickly over to where he is sat and down on my knees in front of him taking as much of his length as I can in the first go. I move deeper as he gets harder until he is hitting the back of my throat. At first he is silent, which is normal, and then he starts to moan low and strong. It sounds so hot. I moan a little back muffled by his cock filling my mouth. ‘Do you like that?’ He asks. A bob of my head in response. I use my tongue to lick the base of his cock. All of him is in my mouth now and I move my head up and down. He starts thrusting and I let him. My eyes watering and spit beginning to trail down my chin. His moans grow louder, lower, stronger. I moan back. I love how this feels. The Lost Soul has never allowed me to be like this with him. He was always the one in control. The one owning my pleasure. Now I have his. All of his pleasure deep in my mouth. Hitting the back of my throat.
He builds and builds until he ejaculates deep into my mouth. I feel his cock twitching as I pull my mouth away and stand up and wipe my eyes. He looks at me.
‘Are you getting emotional?’ He asks. I look back perplexed. ‘Are you crying?’ He explains.
‘My eyes were watering,’ I reply, teasingly adding ‘that’s what happens when something hits the back of your throat’.
As I turn to walk towards the bathroom I say, ‘Has a woman never given you head before?’ It’s rhetorical as I don’t wait for an answer but I realise that he had never let me do that to him before so maybe he has never let any woman do it. I barely sucked his cock at all when we were intimate. It was all about what he could do to me. Very much in contrast to the Young Heart (who I have to thank enormously for his training in how to give much better head than before).
Before I reach the door to the bathroom he is behind me, touches my arm, and turns me to look directly into his eyes. ‘I feel so much calmer’ he says, ‘I hope you do too.’ His little face is stricken with guilt at the thought he took all the pleasure. I reassure him I loved it as I leave to check my make-up in the bathroom mirror. When I return he is about to go upstairs. He comes back and kisses me lightly on the cheek.
‘You are by far my favourite person in the world to spend time with’ he says and I laugh ironically. He seems instantly hurt and says ‘no, not because of that. You are consistently wonderful company in all areas.’ I am reminded of his earlier comment of how our conversation was the greatest one he’d had all week. I smile and thank him. He happily bounces up the stairs like a schoolboy.
How do I explain how good that makes me feel? To be there for someone. Sex is so strongly linked to our emotions. Giving great head and the release that comes with it can be better than sitting down and talking. Sometimes there are problems we face that have no solution and we need to be reminded we have the strength to succeed and the peace to not go crazy while the world is pulling us in so many different directions. I felt good giving him what he needed. Really good. Both emotionally and sexually. I came home and had a good old session with myself and came hard several times. Being there for him gave me my release too. I live to serve. And that afternoon made me realise I am learning how to limit the amount of me I give away. To control giving so I can manage it and I don’t lose myself. And he took my gift. In a way he has denied me so often in the past. Through all our intimacies I think he has only ever come when I have been present 3 times. Maybe a few times more on Skype. My orgasms with him tally into the 100s. I want his pleasure in that moment just as much as he wants mine. It brings me peace.
That’s the secret at the heart of every Secret Whore … sexual servitude makes us happy.