There’s something about giving head that turns me on.

Nothing makes my panties wetter than when I have a nice big dick in my mouth. Luckily, I don’t seem to have any problem finding willing men to let me blow them. There are certain tricks a lady can do when she has cock on the brain and wants to get on her knees. Generally, I’m in relationships, and I always make sure that my boyfriend of the moment is interested in oral 24/7. But my latest flame had to move away for business, and recently, I’ve been feeling a little let down in the mouth.

I could have taken up knitting, I suppose. Or signed up for a night class. But I knew that no other activity was going to soothe me the way cocksucking does.

Last night, I went to my favorite bar and began flirting with my favorite bartender. Roman is about my age — mid-twenties. He has short red hair and a goatee, gray-green eyes that are mesmerizing, and a wicked way of looking a girl up and down and making her feel naked. In a good way. He and I had never hooked up, but I thought that was only because we’d never been single at the same time before.

I sat at the corner of the bar, and I toyed with the little red straw that went with my drink. I bent the edges. I licked the tip. I could feel Roman watching me throughout the evening. He kept looking from my eyes to my mouth. My hungry, hungry mouth.

I redid my lipstick while he watched. Yeah, I know. A lady’s not supposed to do her makeup in public. But there are exceptions to almost every rule. If the lady in question craves a hard rod to suck on, then slicking cherry-red lipstick on her lips while a potential lover watches can be a very hedonistic thing.

Roman looked hypnotized as I pouted my lips and reapplied the gloss. When he came over to ask if I wanted a refill, I assured him that I definitely required something for my mouth, but I was done with liquor for the evening.

“You…” he started.

“I’m thirsty,” I said, and I paused and leaned over the bar so I could get closer to him. “And I’d like you to satisfy my oral desires.”

His eyes grew wider as he grasped what I was saying.

“When do you plan to get off?” I asked him.

“Plan to…”

“Well, I know you have a time you cock out, right?” I paused. “I mean, clock out.”

He nodded.

“Five minutes after that, you’ll be getting off in my mouth, right?”

He nodded again, more robustly this time. Then he said, “I’m out of here at two. Is that too late?”

I shook my head, wrote my address on one of the paper napkins, and paid my tab. Then I went home to prepare. Cocksucking is something I take very seriously. I wanted to make the night perfect for my guest. First, I stripped out of the dress I’d been wearing and put on a silky silver negligee and matching robe. I slid into a pair of high-heeled black slippers with feathers on the toes. When I opened the door to let Roman in, I wanted him to be knocked sideways by my erotic visage.

“Before I could part my lips, he was burrowing between my legs.”

At ten minutes after two, there was a knock. It was a little tentative, and I could imagine Roman standing outside, perhaps worried that he’d arrived too late or that I hadn’t meant what I’d said at the bar. He shouldn’t have doubted me. My mouth had been watering since I’d first come up with the plan. I whipped open the door and pulled my handsome bartender inside.

I’d been waiting for the past hour and a half. Now, I couldn’t wait another second. I went on my knees in the foyer and pawed at the front of his slacks. He undid the belt. I undid the button and zip. Then I was on him, my mouth open, my heart pounding. I learned the length of his dick by the way it felt in my throat. I learned the shape of his cockhead by fitting my lips around the knob. At first, I simply had to suck and suck. I didn’t want to go slow, to take my time, to linger in the moment. I was on a mission, and I remained fully focused. But after a few minutes, I felt the peace steal over me.

Cocksucking does that to me. Not only does the activity turn me on like no other X-rated event. But I reach an almost meditative state from the rhythm. I moved forward and back, slurping and sucking. Roman ran his fingers along my shoulders, touched my cheeks when I sucked so hard I felt them indenting with the force. We were silent in the front of my apartment. Silent except for the noises I was making and the occasional moans and sighs of my bartender.

To switch things up a little, I let his cock slide free from my wet mouth and dipped down to tongue his balls. He pressed his hands on my shoulders and bucked, and I wondered if he’d dissolve down the wall, if his knees would give out and he’d end up a puddle of bliss on the hardwood floor. I didn’t wait to find out. I said, “Let’s bring this to the bedroom.”

“Bedroom,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” But first he had to take off his boots and his jeans. I watched him strip there in the entry to my apartment, and I relished every second of witnessing the beauty of his body emerge for my pleasure. His cock was a steel beam, ready to meet my foundation.

I tripped ahead of him down the hall to my bedroom. I was still in my negligee and robe, and those silly, frilly heels. Roman watched me get comfortable on the bed. I expected him to move up my body, to straddle me and present his dick for my pleasurable sucking once more. He surprised me. Before I could even part my lips, he was pushing my nightie to my waist and burrowing between my legs. I didn’t have any panties to get in the way. That made things easier. He seemed ravenous as he went down on me, nuzzling against the landing strip of fur that adorns my pussy lips, then using his big hands to open me wide so he could get in deep.

All those nights I’d had drinks at the bar, I realized I could have been having this. I’d never choose a cocktail over cock again!

Roman crossed one finger over the other and began to finger-fuck me corkscrew style. How appropriate for a bartender, I thought as I grew closer and closer to climax. When he nudged my clit with the very tip of his tongue, I came. My whole body shook — the bed even shook! And then I lay there in vanquished bliss.

At least, I lay there for a second. Roman, of course, was not finished. Not by a long shot. He waited until my eyelids fluttered open, and then he motioned to his throbbing dick.

“Fuck me!” I begged him.

That was all the impetus he needed. He took me missionary style on the mattress, his dick plunging into my balmy depths as I gripped his biceps and held on for the ride of my life. He took me to a second orgasm that was even more intense than the first, and I cried out as I shivered all over. The pleasure worked through me, sparkles of pure delight ringing my entire body. This is what I’d been lacking. This is what I’d needed.

When I gazed up at Roman once more, I saw he was on the brink of his own mammoth explosion.

“Don’t come!” I insisted.

His eyes widened. What could I possibly mean? How could he possibly stop himself? Those were the queries in his desperate eyes.

“I want to drink every slippery drop,” I explained, and he pulled out of me and let me turn to get into position. I watched as he jacked his hand up and down his come-shiny dick.

“Now!” he said, when he’d reached the place.

I opened my mouth and he shot his load on my tongue, and lips, and chin. I swallowed, then licked the escaping drips up, leaving none behind.

It was late by then, almost late enough to call it early. But Roman gave me that wicked grin of his and moved us into a new position on the bed. To my ultimate delight, my horny bartender wasn’t quite ready for the last call of the night.

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