As a man, one of the greatest pleasures I have is the act of eating pussy. Some would argue that actual intercourse is better, but fucking can be replicated by many things - your hand, a warm (large) peice of holed fruit, plus countless vaginal replications. Being between a woman's thighs and tasting her as she soaks herself is something you cannot fake the feeling of. There is no non-acoholic version of this taste. No options for the man without a woman in his life.
The first moment her lips are tight together, warming up to its own secretions. It's not a stink, but the smell of her - the clean cotton of her panties and the left over dried dampness of her urine and sweat sucks you in. The first taste is bitter and tinged with salt, after a few laps of the tongue you put her pussy all in your mouth. Go at it like a watermelon, full-lipped across her vagina, before your tongue pinpoints the little button immersed in her skin.
When this photographed popped up, my first thought was of course I wish there was more there to see. Perhaps legs further apart, plus the absense of any hair is a disappointment. Then the fantasies hit; fingering her as we drive down Sepulveda. When she's wet enough, she bucks her hips lower in the seat so I can grab the shape of her ass as it shifts into her thighs. Maybe she fingers herself for a bit and tastes it. It makes her laugh, so I do the same. It's night so she doesn't worry about being seen as much as she should. I turn the stereo down so we can here the slipping sound of her fingers rubbing over sticky lips.
Her hand reaches across my lap, but I brush her away. This is my moment. What I want to do. I feel her breasts over her shirt, the stiffness of her bra, the bobbing of her tits. Two tips of my fingers fit inside of her, she reclines the seat just enough for me to go deeper and scratch the inside of her. The flesh inside, dense over bone and with little give but my palm is pushed against the wet and flimsy skin of her pussy, her clit there somewhere and she moans and mentions something about "...watch you cum..." but doesn't finish her thought as her eyes stay fixed on the mess between her legs, the leather of the seat slicked with her self-made water.
Anyway. This is only a bit. Thoughts like this flash in a second. Two at the most. Maybe lasting a minute before the brain moves on and on to some other stimulus. Later I wonder, "Why the fuck did I daydream about eating Britney Spears pussy out?" But I did. There. Worse things could happen. Maybe I've always held a certain place in my celebrity-likes for Spears, even though she's borderline disgusting, there is a sweetness to her. The kind of girl that finds it sad that in Full House the reason everyone lives there, in the "Full House," is because the girl's mother died. "Poor Michelle will never get to know her mama, ya'll."
Man, all this just because my female companion has felt "dirty" so I haven't eaten her out in a few weeks. Plus, my blowjob receival numbers have been down. I have gotten plenty of sex lately, just not a lot of the "do whatever" spirit that I need to feel fulfilled.
Because in the end, even I don't want to fuck her in the ass at the moment, it's good to know I have the option.
