Although the early blogs of my Interstate Date were written in the third person, I have chosen to write this piece from my own account. Although my ‘partner’ has his own perspectives and descriptions of how things felt, tasted and sounded I thought that since I was the one who was being pleasured, I would describe what happened.

First a bit of background on Ms JJ…I have never cum in a man’s (or woman’s) mouth. With a plethora of issues, from body to people pleasing, I have never allowed myself the opportunity to experience fully the joys of someone ‘going down on me.’ I can count on one hand the number of men and women who I have let bury their face between my thighs but inevitably I pull them back up to my face and work on pleasing them. There came a point in my life where I realized I might die without ever having experienced letting go to the pleasures that were being given to me. Sounds a bit extreme but really, when I reached this point in my life where I realized that I am a highly sexual person with a helluva sex drive, I thought that it would be something that would never happen…. then I met him.

Trust is a big factor…and not the trust of a secret holder but a trust that one needs to be so completely vulnerable to someone. In my mind I thought that the view that the giver must have alone would be enough to drive someone away. How could someone ‘love going down on me’ or ‘love the taste of my cum?’ And there is the issue that I am a ‘gusher’, which is not quite a ‘squirter’. I was mortified! I thought I was defective! What happened if I did that in someone’s mouth or face??!!!

What? It’s a good thing, you say? I had no clue that my over active cunt was a bonus in the conquest of cunnilingus!

So…my Interstate Date was well aware of my historical lack of cumming via tonguing and made it his mission…well, that and fucking my ass till I couldn’t sit properly!

As we sat on the couch recharging from hours of intense exploration of each other’s body, we discussed light topics of interest, Canada’s curling teams, assimilation policies and forced segration of Canada’s First Nations…you know, chit chat! I sat there in my bathrobe, reviewing my graduate thesis for him when I noticed that he seemed to have shifted so his knees were on the floor.

“What are you doing?” I asked but still refused to take my feet off the coffee table to give him space.

“Keep talking,” he growled as he took one of my legs and placed in on the back of the couch and bent the one left on the coffee table.

Before I could even collect my thoughts on Canada’s neo-colonialist policies of late, his face was buried in my velvets, licking and nibbling my tender clit. My pussy barely had time to recuperate before it was going to receive the tongue-lashing it had waited so long for.

I remember feeling how warm his breath felt on my thighs as he kissed my outer lips and massaged my thighs.

I remember how it felt to have my lips sucked and bit as I ran my hands through his hair.

I remember how my tits squished together as I reached down and forced his tongue deeper into my pussy.

I remember how his eyes looked as he watched my mouth as I moaned and thrusted my hips up to fuck his face.

I remember how his moans vibrated against my slit only further driving my crazy.

I remember feeling my warm juices trickle from my pussy down the crevice to my puckered ass.

I remember how he traced the trickle of my juices from my ass to my pussy, pushing his thumb lightly into my little delicate hole as he sucked hard on my clit.

I remember my thighs tightened and hips bucked as I came closer to the edge…my abs tightening as he moaned drinking me in…every muscle in my body pushing my orgasm out as I let myself cascade freely into his waiting tongue.

Although I didn’t gush that night, having thoroughly orgasmed three times previously, I have made him a promise that I will let myself relax and cover him as he had covered me.