Pink Dictator: November 2010

this cock.”

Right after she said it, she looked up at him sheepishly, “But I’ve missed you, too. It’s not like your cock is the greatest thing about you. I remember once really appreciating your superior intellect, loyalty, great sense of humor, and mad dancing skillz.”

The way she pronounced ‘skills’, curling her lip up into a slight snarl, pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth, he knew there was a ‘z’ on the end, maybe two. Plus, it’s how he remembered her: changing the mood at the most inappropriate of times. And then bringing it back.

“But this,” she took his cock and displayed it to him on the platter of her open palms, “this is a thing of beauty.”

He had always tended to think that about his own dick. Maybe he didn’t necessarily refer to it as a thing of beauty, but he thought it was pretty okay. It was of a sizable length, an acceptable thickness; he kept the hair in the vicinity trimmed, and his balls smooth. Hearing her agreeing with his long-held beliefs for the first time out loud made him feel pretty good. So did looking down at her kneeling in front of him marveling at his dick as if it were the best thing she’d ever seen. And the sounds she made when her lips slid down around it made him think his dick may have been the best thing she’d ever tasted, too.

He watched her sucking him off, felt a hand on his balls, another hand snaking around to grab his ass, pulling him deeper into her mouth, as she closed her eyes and moaned. He moaned too; he’d remembered enough to forget to miss this. He closed his eyes wondering how he ever managed to forget this.

“Fuck, I love you,” she murmured without taking her mouth away from him; her lips tightening with the ‘f’ in ‘fuck,’ the tip of her tongue pressing against his dick on the ‘l’ in ‘love,’ and rolling along it as she pronounced ‘you.’

She opened her eyes without taking her mouth from around the tip of his cock, looked up at him, “Oh - not you. I meant…” Trailing off, she slowly pressed his dick into her mouth until her lips pressed against his skin.

He knew she meant she loved his cock, not him. Not anymore.

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