Contemplating Cocksucking
Feb. 7th, 2009 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quiregrrlI’m not a very good lesbian. The militant gender-policing wimmin-born-wimmin penetration-is-rape smash-the-patriarchy lesbians are going to take away my membership card and deodorant crystal if they find out. I like boys. Tranny boys, butches, genderqueers, bois, Daddys and I’ve even been known to pant in the direction of the occasional factory-standard gay leatherman. Usually bears.
I’ve given many reasons for my predilection over the years, lofty, political, intelligent and passionate reasons. At the base of it all though, I like cock. More to the point, I like sucking cock. Show me a queer packing a bulge and I go weak at the knees, which is quite handy because on them is where I want to be.
When I was still doing the straight thing, I sucked a lot of cock. Like Bill Clinton, I didn’t think that a blow job counted as “sexual relations”. I did not have sexual relations with those men. I wasn’t a very good straight girl either, apart from being an unrealised queer, I liked giving head. Good straight girls apparently don’t enjoy that, it’s just something they do to keep the boys happy. Me? I loved it, I loved the power of having their most precious possession at the mercy of my teeth, I loved the way I could make them beg, I loved the way their cocks would twitch with just a little flick of my tongue.
I still love those things. Every now and then I bump up against people who don’t understand. I brush against the perception that there isn’t much point sucking on a silicone dick, it’s not like the owner can feel it after all. Right? Well, I’ve never worn a cock, let alone had it sucked, and I would never presume to speak for the boys and butches and queers who pack, but I think they feel it. And in my opinion, there’s more to a good blow job than sucking like your life depends on getting that golf ball through the garden hose.
The groan that escapes from a boy as I hold his hips and put a condom on with my mouth. The way he pants as our eyes lock - his half closed staring down at me, mine streaming tears as his cock chokes off my air. The way she shudders when I struggle against my gag reflex. That moment when his eyes close and his head falls back as my lips reach the base of his cock. Yeah, I think they feel me. I know I feel them.
I’ve given many reasons for my predilection over the years, lofty, political, intelligent and passionate reasons. At the base of it all though, I like cock. More to the point, I like sucking cock. Show me a queer packing a bulge and I go weak at the knees, which is quite handy because on them is where I want to be.
When I was still doing the straight thing, I sucked a lot of cock. Like Bill Clinton, I didn’t think that a blow job counted as “sexual relations”. I did not have sexual relations with those men. I wasn’t a very good straight girl either, apart from being an unrealised queer, I liked giving head. Good straight girls apparently don’t enjoy that, it’s just something they do to keep the boys happy. Me? I loved it, I loved the power of having their most precious possession at the mercy of my teeth, I loved the way I could make them beg, I loved the way their cocks would twitch with just a little flick of my tongue.
I still love those things. Every now and then I bump up against people who don’t understand. I brush against the perception that there isn’t much point sucking on a silicone dick, it’s not like the owner can feel it after all. Right? Well, I’ve never worn a cock, let alone had it sucked, and I would never presume to speak for the boys and butches and queers who pack, but I think they feel it. And in my opinion, there’s more to a good blow job than sucking like your life depends on getting that golf ball through the garden hose.
The groan that escapes from a boy as I hold his hips and put a condom on with my mouth. The way he pants as our eyes lock - his half closed staring down at me, mine streaming tears as his cock chokes off my air. The way she shudders when I struggle against my gag reflex. That moment when his eyes close and his head falls back as my lips reach the base of his cock. Yeah, I think they feel me. I know I feel them.
