It’s not about control. Well…perhaps it is, a little. There’s something undeniably empowering about giving a man enough pleasure to make him completely lose his college education and his ability to form coherent sentences. It’s even better when that man is your partner, best friend, and—more recently you’ve discovered—the best lover you’ve ever had.
He smells good and tastes even better. Warm and desperate, his husky scent is heightened even more with the rush of the blood simmering in his veins and arteries. You love hearing his soft gasp when you press a kiss to the underside of his velvet shaft, his little dry sob when you gently tease his slit with the tip of your tongue. The ease with which you engulf him in your mouth is too right to be wrong.
His fingers are in your hair and you relish the additional small point of contact. His nails lightly scrape at your scalp and the sensation settles in your nipples and clit, where your free hand gently presses and squeezes. He moans at the realization that you’re deriving pleasure from his own and you smile before dragging your tongue up his length. He whimpers again.
It’s not about control. Really, it’s not…it’s all about him.
Just Holding Hands 