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Fine Dining

#MasturbationMondayIt seems that when it comes to going down on women, a lot of men can talk the talk, but many fail to deliver the goods. “I could spend hours eating a woman out” is, apparently, a common claim, I’ve even used it myself. The experiences that many of my female friends seems to be that this claim is very rarely backed up when it comes to guys actually putting her cunny where his mouth is.
Another common complaint from the fairer sex is that too many of us guys see it as something that’s done perfunctory, almost reluctantly. Something that is done and got out of the way as quickly as possible before moving on to the main event.
I’ve never understood this approach. For me, the only “main event” is the time spent pleasuring each other in its entirety. The passionate kissing, the stroking, the time spent exploring her body with my lips and fingers, the time spent eating her out, and the actual penetration are all individual events in their own right that add to a bigger whole; a sexual pentathlon if you will.
For me, part of the fun is the slow build up. The teasing of kissing her inner thighs, slowly getting closer but never quite touching. She knows that, eventually, my tongue is going to slip between her labia, and each time I approach, she hopes that this time will be the time. The point here is that I’m not just teasing her, I’m teasing myself too; I want to taste her, and I’m having to restrain and deny myself as much as I am denying her.
When the moment comes, and I allow myself to taste her, if I’ve done it right, I’m rewarded with a moan of relief as my tongue works between her folds and flicks over her clit.
Now, a thing about lady parts: some women like to keep theirs smooth, others nicely trimmed and tidy, where as others keep theirs in their natural state. You know what? I couldn’t care less. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I have my preferences, but going down isn’t about her topiary preferences, for me it’s about her scent, her taste, and once my tongue is between her labia, her pubic styling, or lack thereof, doesn’t matter. OK, so if she isn’t completely smooth, there’s the risk that at some point I’m going to have to stop to disengage a wayward pube, and while dealing with nature’s dental-floss may mean putting me of my stride momentarily, but that’s just part of the risk/reward.
Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFridayAs for once I’m down there, it’s not a race to the finish. Yes, her climax is a goal, but how she gets there is up to me. It’s important to respond to her wants. Does she want me to concentrate on her clit? Does she want me to abuse her nipples? Does she want me to speed up or slow down? All these things can be communicated verbally and non-verbally; her hand pressing my head towards her, the little sounds that tell me what she’s liking.
Ultimately, it’s not a sprint, and it also doesn’t have to be a marathon. At some point she’s (hopefully) going to want me to fuck her, and I’m definitely going to want my cock to benefit from the time my tongue has spent getting her cunt warmed up. The important thing is that both parties should enjoy it fully.
And that brings me to what it is that I enjoy about it so much. I would describe myself as a sensualist; that is I am someone for whom my enjoyment of sex is enhanced by the interactions with my senses. When it comes to sex, for me at least, cunnilingus is very much a full sensory experience.
First there is the sight. The seeing my partner lying there, opened up for me. Seeing her moisture glisten on her labia, which are, themselves, pink and inflamed. It’s seeing the small movements, the involuntary flinches as I lick her.
Then there is the sound. The sound of my tongue as it laps against her. The sounds of my fingers inside her cunt as they assist my mouth with its task.  The sounds of her breathing, her moans and sighs as her pleasure grows and her orgasm first approaches and then ignites.
There is touch. The texture of her most sensitive flesh against my tongue. The wetness of her cunt around my fingers. The pressure of her thighs against the sides of my face and her hand on the back of my head, not letting me go as I feast upon her.
Then there is scent. That rich, heady scent of her arousal that I breathe in.
But most of all there is taste. That sweet, rich flavour; so individual to each woman. The way her flavour deepens with her arousal. That sharp, intoxicating change of flavour that tells me when she cums.
For me, when a woman reaches orgasm on the end of my tongue, it is almost like sensory overload. Every sense is involved. Every sense is participating, combining to enhance the experience, building my own enjoyment and pleasure from hers.
Yes, I am a sensualist, and cunnilingus is the greatest all-round “food” for my senses.
KW

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