It's a lazy Sunday morning and we're both lying in bed, the radio is playing quietly and you are sat up slightly reading the newspaper. I shift down the bed slightly so that my feet hang off the end and my movement pulls the duvet down with me, exposing your bare chest and stomach. I watch your chest rise and fall for a moment before freeing my arm from under the quilt, pulling it further down as I turn onto my side, my face level with your hips. I study your cock thoughtfully, your morning wood has left it half erect, just a tiny bit of the tip visible under your foreskin, teasing me.
I reach out my hand and lightly run my index finger from the base to the tip and it twitches slightly, responding to my touch. You ask me what I think I'm doing in a mock-stern voice and peer over the top of the paper at me.
"Nothing", I respond innocently, as I place my thumb and index finger on each side of the head and slowly draw back your foreskin.
You moan a little as I release my grip and let my fingertips trail slowly back down your shaft and over your balls. I absentmindedly cup them, my gaze still focussed on your now full erection. I realise that you are still attempting to read the Sunday paper and this amuses me, I like a challenge.
I lightly pull back your foreskin again, exposing the head and I notice the first hint of precum at the tip, "I can't remember what this bit is called," I tell you.
"That's a penis," you reply wryly, not looking up from your paper.
"Oh very funny, that's not the bit I meant."
"Well which bit did you mean?" you ask, still only half paying attention.
"This bit," I reply as I slowly reach my head down and brush my lips on the underside of your cock, where the head meets the shaft. I have your full attention now.
"That's called the frenulum," you tell me, folding your paper and placing it on the bedside table.