Lights low and voices lower on a thursday night cam date. There's something special about not getting any and then suddenly getting too much in one go. It's decadent and overwhelming yet so temporary and I know it will probably be a while before I get more.
We talked a little about our trip, mostly where to meet and how to organize things. Practical stuff. But then we dove into it. It was hot, I got naked fairly fast, stripped out of my shorts and tank top, down to my panties, and was soon out of those too.
We rarely know how to start so we just start. I start playing, he starts talking, we bring up memories of things we've done, and things we should do. We talk about the things we love doing most. Where he'll fill me, how hard, how slow or fast, how deep... mmm especially how deep. I admit how much I love sucking his cock, and love the taste of his pre-cum. I tell him how deep I want his cock.
Mostly he talks though, I don't really have verbal capabilities when I'm getting myself off or getting fucked for that matter. He tells me how he'd fuck me and then make me suck him off. Tasting myself on him and back and forth and back again. Filling my mouth with every inch I can handle and then just a little more to make me gag. He describes how he'd take me from behind, slap my ass, and pull my hair. I love the fact that so many memories come to mind when he describes things. They are tangible realities that all meld together into one fantasy. Everything we've ever done together becomes part of a new fantasy.
I've realized that to be able to get off, the fantasies have to be based in reality, they have to be something I've had a taste of before, at least to some extent. Totally new and foreign sensations are difficult for me to get aroused over. That's part of the reason his descriptions get me so hot. They are completely based in reality with hints of novelty which keep them exciting.
I'd never get bored of it. I crave it from him.
My orgasms were a domino effect. He asked me which one was best but I couldn't answer. It's hard to remember them I said. The first was clear. The second and third were almost one, as I was finishing the second, he told me not to stop and the third one hit, but it was like the wave died down and picked up again. The last was out of exhaustion. It was different from the others.
I was dripping by the end, there was sweat running down my tummy and back, my hair was sticking to my neck and face. I was flushed red in the cheeks and lips. I looked like I'd run a marathon. I collapsed on the bed, catching my breath.
The evening didn't end there though. I thought it would. I asked him if he wanted a turn, but he said no only to go back on his decision and get his cock out not 10 minutes later. Watching him wank is like dangling a carrot in front of a rabbit. I lunge and salivate and I swear I can taste him. When I see his cock I automatically think of getting my lips around it. Maybe it's unusual, I don't automatically think of fucking, I think of sucking. I crave the taste of him so bad that it's the first thing and most prominent fantasy when I see his cock. Whether it's me sucking him, or him fucking my mouth, either way I want to taste him. I wish my pussy had taste buds. That way I could have the best of both worlds.