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Question: Do you ever find yourself in a situation where you think It was so natural for me to end up here then realise, I’m lying in a bed of jizz. No? Just me? Oh, okay then.I just turned thirty. People my age talk about their first loves, and how they’ve married their ‘one true love’. I just think about how I can’t tell them about my first love, and my one true love. Cum. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had epic relationships with both men and women. But, if we’re being truly honest, when I’m looking for a relationship, I’m really in search of cum. It’s the cum that keeps me. Salty and delicious, a real delicacy if you ask me. It’s wasted on those who cringe away from it, afraid of the mess or just trying to get it over with quickly. For me, there’s not a lot I’m unwilling to do to get it. See, I’m a bit of a sexual deviant. My salacious desire taking over me, desperately trying to burst out of me. The need to seek it out, searching for opportunities to experience every sexual quirk and adventure I possibly could. This could overwhelm me. To be honest, I let it. I enjoyed it. Clearly, I still do. I know it and I own it. Want a girl with a load of kinks? Hit me up – I’ve got them in droves. Ultimately, it all comes back to the same thing. Seminal fluid. Creamy white, calorific goodness. Fucking yum. My first taste was at seventeen; I was genuinely surprised – he lasted several seconds. He was seventeen as well, almost eighteen, and he started to cum as I licked and stroked his long slender cock. I swiped my thumb over the red tip when it started to glisten. It fascinated me; I watched every reaction his prick had to my touch. I glanced up at his face and saw a fleeting look of pain. That was shortly before he put his palm to my head in a pointless effort to push me away. I instinctively covered him with my mouth. I eagerly swallowed his premature gift right away. In fairness, I didn’t really know what I was doing then, but I had the lingering taste on my tongue. I tried to get him hard again to give me more, but he had to go up the road for his dinner. Ah Daniel, a sweet guy. I’ve never forgotten his taste. After Daniel izmir rus escort bayan left, I sat down to dinner with my parents and sister. I was reluctant to eat anything; the taste of Daniel’s cum lingered in my mouth, on my tongue. I didn’t want to lose that. It turned out; I needn’t have worried. The taste stayed with me for days, tickling my taste buds. Each time sending me back to when it happened, making my pussy wet every time. I briefly pondered if there was something wrong with me. I was addicted. The confidence I’ve lacked in every other aspect of my life just isn’t there when it’s in relation to cum. It’s not just ‘his’ cum (whoever ‘he’ is). It’s mine too. Good Lord, give me a combination of different cums, mine and his, and I’m in heaven. Gooey, sticky, tangy heaven. As I grew up a little and explored my sexuality more, my obsession only grew more intense, needier. I craved it; I craved those reactions from my lover. Those little gasps and moans, the jump in that muscle on my partner’s upper inner thigh when something I did really excited them… yeah, that I loved. I still love that little ripple I can feel under their skin. When I’m with a man, and their cock twitches because of me, it makes me want them more.I need to watch them, feel it, taste it. My kinks grew up with me, spiralling, twisting and forming, all around my cum fixation. I figured out fairly quickly that it’s all in the tease. The more you tease them, the bigger the reward. And I like my big rewards. My cum love. I have friends now who refer to it as ‘finishing’. That irks me. Don’t they enjoy the clean-up? Don’t they want to share a dirty cummy kiss, those sticky strings keeping them connected as they passionately embrace the afterglow together? I love a cummy kiss. Swapping cum between lovers is so intimate and naughty, I’m always ready to lose it again when we do it. The very fact that I know you’ve just sucked our mess out of my well-fucked cunt and then forced it into my mouth for us to share the taste… that makes me tremble. I love how it feels like it brings us closer – like the whole escort izmir otele gelen debauched act is sealed with that dirty, wet, sticky kiss. A delicious cocktail being passed between our mouths, coating our taste buds. It’s seared into my memories. It occurs to me that it’s been a while since I spoke to Josh. Josh is my ‘person’. We have always found our way back to each other, and over the years we’ve experimented together. Some experiments were riskier than others. Anyway, Josh shared my devotion to exploring the many things that can be done with cum. He’s very dominant, which I love. During a time when the Fitbit was just becoming a thing, we were having one of our most public affairs. He would message me when I was participating in group work at uni, telling me to meet him somewhere. One of his favourite places was the top floor of the library where the books for our Medicine in Society classes were. I met him there after this particularly gruelling group meeting about something related to religion in politics. He was casually leaning against one of the massive bookcases dedicated to sociology, reading about the origins of the vibrator – no joke. Josh pretended not to see me – part of his game. I got a whiff of his aftershave. I recognised it right away – Boss. As if the forty-five-minute build-up hadn’t been enough, during which he sent me filthy messages and a picture of the stacks he would be waiting for me in, he’d worn a scent he knew could bring me to my knees. I ran my finger along the tired spines of the books shelved there, until I stood so close to him my breath would be tickling his neck. The corner of his mouth tilted up, a smirk. “You took your sweet time.” I tickled his palm with my fingers, watching as the goosebumps appeared up his arm. I loved that I could have this effect on him. “I had a tutorial,” I explained as I lifted his hand to my mouth. He finally put the damn book back on a shelf. Swiftly, he turned and devoured my mouth. I couldn’t help but stand on my tiptoes to pull him down to me. “No.” The command was clear in his voice, but I ignored buca escort it. Well, I tried to. Then his strong hands were on my hips and he pushed me away so that my arse banged off the shelves behind me. “Ow,” I grumbled. My pouted lip made him sneer. I knew he was fully in Dom mode. Shit. That beautiful bastard wouldn’t let me cum. He wrenched down my leggings and simple white cotton panties, just enough that he could see my slit. Freeing his thick, bulging prick, he grabbed my wrist and folded my hands around the top of my panties, guiding me to hold them out towards him. If anyone had seen us, it would have looked utterly obscene. There was a sticky string of my girly juice connecting my cunt and my underwear. He stroked his engorged prick into my panties – occasionally nudging my swollen clit with his glistening tip. Squeezing his purplish mushroom head between his thumb and fingers, his adept fingers found their way to my throat, causing my breathing to hitch and me to swallow. I whimpered as I felt his hand tighten ever so slightly around my neck. I needed to cum. He saw the desperation in my eyes; I know that’s what tipped him over the edge as his hand around me spasmed and his balls emptied his spunk powerfully over my slit and into my panties. A sheen of sweat gleamed on his forehead. Once he had relaxed his grip on me, he collected the remnants of his cum from himself and tucked himself away. “You’re going to wear me for the rest of the day, and you are not going to cum again until I allow it. That’s for taking so long to get here. Understand?” I nodded, somewhat distracted by the fact that his thumb was painting my lips with his salty goodness, and the feeling of his pleasure smeared all over my sex. That cruel, sexy, perverted jackass. I had four more hours of classes to attend, and two more lectures located on opposite ends of the campus. Josh patted the front of my panties before I left, hot as hell, for another political class I could have cared less about just then. I semi-petulantly stomped away, down the stairs, and made my way across campus to the first of my next two classes. Even as I headed over, I knew I wasn’t actually mad. I adored this feeling; being on edge. Painfully desperate for that now elusive release. I arrived outside the lecture theatre; I had ten minutes to spare. I climbed the stairs to the back of the lecture hall, mostly empty except for two guys to my right. They weren’t interested in me at all.
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