I’ve been reading your lips
Jay looks like the kind of guy who gives really good head. Getting head seems to be a hot button topic with me ever since I broke things off with my fuck buddy. Feels like I”ve become “a night head hunter looking for some head,” as The Cramps would say.
So that’s the new standard; must give head.
He looks like he’d be really good at it. I can’t explain what exactly gives me this impression, though I’m sure contributing factors include my experience with younger guys and their ambitious drive to be phenomenal in the sack when they feel you may have a few more romps under your belt. In their minds, they take you from being a regular young girl who tolerates boxed wine to being a cunnilingus connoisseur. He acts tough and flaunts to impress, but it’s rooted in a drive for my validation. He’s been trying for quite some time now and worries my affections will go astray to the other big dogs strutting around the bar he tends. This is a guy who aims to please.
Sometimes when I’m masturbating, I’ll lie on my back with my feet against the wall and pretend his head in between my thighs. It’s a time when our roles have reversed and he’s buckled me at the knees with the flick of his tongue in a driven pursuit for an orgasm. Two fingers slide inside and I picture the tight flexation of his rear muscles as he thrusts deep into my groin, as fast and deep as a young man can push.
I shouldn’t have done that. Now, I’ve become impulsed to read his lips when he speaks to me. The very sight of those lips curling into that arrogant, smirky half-grin makes my body shift uncontrollably with taunting desire.