I inspected myself in the mirror, the way my red hair dripped down to my jawbone, the way my blue eyes looked a little green today. I practiced some faces in the mirror, making myself laugh and then go back to neutral. I turned this way and that, imagining that the mirror was not an inanimate object, but instead, my love's eyes.
3 hours. 3 long hours to go until he could be expected.
Our relationship had been a long time in the making, and it seemed like agony every single day we were apart. I was learning to adjust, looking at our time apart as being worth it in the long run, which it was. In less then a year a day would not pass where we were involuntarily apart. That thought sounded like bliss. My love was already in my thoughts night and day, existing in my life and in my dreams. All of me was in submission to him, and not in that opinion-less obeying mode, but was full of opinion. And that opinion usually aligned with pure joy, for the simple fact that I could offer this submission and share in the experience. That I could be lucky enough to learn about him as much as I could learn about myself. Learning my love proved to be quite a challenge. In my mind, I seem to believe that all people have a spot on their body that is extra sensitive, that will instantly turn them on. After a month of being with my love, I wanted to find that spot.
I had searched his body high and low with my fingertips, mouth, hands and eyes, and I could not find that one spot. So one night after a long session of him teasing me and doing all sorts of horribly wonderful things to my prone body, we lay in each other's arms murmuring our usual post-sex thoughts, I built up my courage enough to say: "You know, its unfair, you know every spot on my body that will turn me on." I wasn't so bold as to ask right away, but tried breaching the question in a subtle way, hoping my love would ask me why it was unfair.
"Thats my job, Kitten," he whispered to me, his lips tracing the lobe of my ear as his hand slid straight across the small of my back. Without conscious thought, my back arched and my body pressed to his. I moaned, half in protest and half in an utter state of arousal. His fingertips danced over my back like I was a guitar, singing out each note he wanted. Eventually, I whimpered and curled into him which only made my love chuckle that soft little chuckle that means "I adore you."
"You made your point. But I don't know what spot you like best." Of course, the obvious ones I knew- the sexual organs. I had been lucky enough to have the privileged to, at any time I so desire, to lick my love's balls. Although it seems like a terribly boring thing, for me it was a big deal because he had not let many women do that happily as they are very sensitive. The first act of trust my love showed me, I think, was instructing me to lick his flavor-lubed balls.
That was a fun night. It was the second night we had slept together and the first time we had the chance in nearly a month. Our first sexual encounter was at a party he threw, and soon after that we both left to our respective destinations - him in Iceland, me in Amsterdam. When we finally reunited, it was in Amsterdam on the only day of the winter of 2007 that I got to see snow, something I love very dearly and had been sorely missing. His arrival was magical, just as magical as the snow on that beautifully warm day. When we climbed the stairs to our room in a tiny little hotel not far from Centraal station, we sat in awe, both of each other and of the view of the park we had and the beautiful city we were in. We lasted much longer than I had expected before we urgently undressed one another, savoring the view we had only been lucky to see in various snapshots and the rare video shared online.
It was not long before our clothes were thrown about the room and we were in the two bed that they had pushed together to make one grand stage for us. I looked up at my love was on his knees on the bed before me, his gorgeous cock fully erect and leaking pre-cum. I beamed up at him and moved to get on my hands and knees before him. Clumsily, though, my knee slid between the two beds, pushing them apart, leaving me halfway sprawled on the floor between the two beds. As I gasped, he laughed. My love's laughter filled the room and was soon followed by my own embarrassed giggling. He helped me regain my spot on the bed and petted my hair in an unintentional gesture that would one day turn into one of the best sensations I could ask for. "There was something I think you were about to do," he casually mentioned once we had regained our breath. I smiled and nodded, carefully positioning myself before him. I opened my mouth, my tongue flicking out to lap up some of the freshly smeared pre-cum. It tasted salty and tangy on my tongue. My love's hand found its way to my hair and rather than gripping it, he caressed it, moaning an encouraging sound at me as he gently maneuvered my head, setting is own pace as my mouth slowly slid its way up his cock. Never once did he push me, but only suggested with light pressure what he wanted me to do, what he desired. All of my energy, all of my being was centered on my mouth which lovingly sucked his cock. Up an down, my lips traced the skin of his cock, taking in the shape, the tension, the veins beneath the skin, the smoothness of the head of his cock.
It was like learning something brand new, sucking cock this way. I had been used to a man grabbing my head and forcing my mouth. While I still do desire the grabbed and mouth-fucked aggression, this tenderness was much more intense. It got me to pay attention to what I was doing. Without realizing it, I was learning his likes and dislikes in a way I never had before. I was learning to obey him without a command.
After some time, his hand circled to my cheek, cupping it as I sucked in around his cock, creating a vacuum like suction on him. He groaned each time I did this, his fingers tightening beneath my jaw involuntarily as he forgot what he was about to do. Suddenly, he spoke. It took me a moment to register what he wanted, that the words he was speaking to me were in English, "Lick my balls." His words were half command, half suggestion, neither of us fully sure that we wanted to pursue this BDSM thing we had mentioned before, timid to start something that we had never gotten a fulfilling experience out of. I moved my mouth away from his cock, his hand still cradling my cheek as I gazed up at him, a smile on my face. He smiled in return and I leaned forward to gently lick his balls. They were nicely shaved, and very full. I was gentle, never sucking, just lapping at them with my warm wet tongue. He moaned in delight and moved his hand away. This, he was going to just enjoy. I licked away eagerly at his balls, carefully worshiping them as I never had before. I felt privileged and important. While it was too soon to vocalize so early in the relationship, I felt loved.
It did not last long before we both realized that we would burst if we did not just fuck. So we did. And then spent the next 4 days doing just that and very little else.
