"Fine, what about my dick do you like the most?" He asked with a smirk as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest.
I took a slow sip of my martini and peered across the rim of the glass at the fine specimen that was my friend. My eyes lingered on his gorgeous mouth, with his perfectly framed goatee and round bottom lip. His smirk was still in place on his face as I set my glass back on the table and now his pearly white straightened teeth with its small overbite were slowly peeking through, as his smirk slowly turned into a smile.
"Monet, are you going to elaborate or just stare?" He was full on smiling now, and the laughter had returned to his eyes. My simple answer and delayed response was now making him cocky. I leaned in, placing my elbows on the table and folding them under my chin. His eyes immediately dropped to my breast. I was wearing a simple white jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and my arms had caused my breast to be pushed closer together. I waited the full ten seconds it took for his eyes to return to mine, and now I was the one smirking.
"What I like most about you is your dick. I like the way it feels in my hands as it grows to its full potential. Starting off soft, yet solid. I like how the foreskin glides along the shaft under my fingertips as I stroke you, waking it up. I like how it grows before my eyes in minutes and you overflow my palm. I like how much your dick weighs in my hand once its pumped full of blood. I like how it has that slight curve upward, so it always hits my g-spot once we connect and become one. I like how it feels sliding over my tongue when I lay over the edge of the bed and you feed it to me." I licked my lips, and closed my eyes before continuing. Trying to remember our last time together. "I like that it slides to the back of my mouth and it still has the ability to slide into my throat. I like that it fills me completely, and that I get to feel it completely. I like how it taste. Skin. Flesh. You. I like that no matter what time of the day or when you last showered that it taste so damn good." Reopening my eyes, "I like the delicious treat it spews. I like that it tells me you take care of yourself and have a balance diet. I like that when I suck on the head and run my tongue underneath along that ridge—the frenulum—that I always get a pre-taste. I like that when you lose yourself and it enters my throat, sometimes I'm able to stretch my tongue out and touch or almost touch your balls. I like that when you nut you always slide it into my throat and my cheeks pool with saliva as its passageway is blocked."
The laughter left his face. He was no longer sitting arms crossed; he was now leaning across the table. I could smell his testosterone. I had him. "I like how it looks. Once the foreskin has been pulled back—taut-when it's fully erect and the tip is about two shades lighter than the shaft. I like how the line of demarcation becomes so evident when it's at its full mast. I like how the veins stand out along the shaft and are slightly raised. I like that you are so meticulous in your grooming, that you don't stop with just your goatee and you don't completely wipe away the signs of maturity. I like that it always looks so damn intimidating when erect. I like that it jumps and bobs under its own weight when you're standing in front of me as I'm on my knees. I like when you stroke it, using my saliva or the wetness from between my thighs as lubricant. I like when sometimes we're moving too fast and not in sync, and it misses my opening slides up between my second set of lips to my clit. I like when the head taps atop my clit and the shaft slides up and down between my folds."
