An online profile catches my eye, as I peruse potential mates late into the night. "Looking for a sweet girl to spend some time with. Must have lots of energy, be positive, and have a pretty mouth."
It drove me wild when my last boyfriend, Derek, used to touch my mouth during sex. I loved it when he used to kiss my neck, while toying his finger around the rim of my lips. He always had such a warm, wet, welcoming mouth himself, that would get me similarly wet just thinking about it. I could almost come from him kissing me deeply, and it goes without saying that I absolutely loved having his cock in my mouth, as well. I always came hardest when my mouth was full.
So, it's obvious why the words, "pretty mouth" appealed to me. That phrase in particular makes me a little wet, because the one saying it is usually thinking about fucking it. And that to me, is the sexiest. It's either a bold request by this guy on his online profile, basically admitting that he wants a good cocksucker; or, the guy is so oblivious, naive, or foreign, that it's to be taken at face value. Or he has a mouth fetish, like me. I feel that satisfying tingle again between my legs, just thinking about it.
No. I shouldn't. I'm supposed to be looking for a potential partner, not another one night stand. Ever since breaking up with Derek, I've had an unsavoury string of men parade through my bedroom, trying to fill the need, both emotionally and sexually. Touching my own mouth just isn't the same, and I've been desperate. Too many nights lately, I've been lying in bed with a vibrator on my clit, and a latex tasting dildo in my mouth.
But, these fly by night encounters don't exactly quench my appetite. I need someone constant I can depend on, like Derek, who has similar interests in bed as I do. And, I need someone that I can trust and feel comfortable with; someone with whom I can feel free enough to divulge my sweetest fantasies, without fear of being judged. So far, the men I've slept with casually have barely licked the icing of the cake, metaphorically speaking. What I need requires not only a commitment, but an in depth understanding of my mouth fetish. It's probably the reason that I held onto Derek for so long, even after I knew in my heart that it was over. He knew me better than I knew myself; he was always one step ahead of me. He did things to me that I didn't know I wanted yet, and now I salivate for them. It takes a lot of will power to give up something that worked so well for so long. But, it doesn't change how horny I am right now.
I log off the dating website, having worked up quite the hungry need. It's not that I'm still in love with Derek, let me make that clear. But, I'm definitely in love with the sex we had. Just thinking about how he used to devour my lips when we kissed, makes me want to grab my vibrator. But, looking at the late hour on the clock, I power down the computer, and head to bed. Like usual, I toss and turn, trying to keep the tasty thoughts out of my head. A finger tracing the outline of my mouth. Someone squeezing my cheeks. Telling me to open up. But, something's different this time. It's not the thought of Derek doing this to me, that's keeping me awake. It's the thought of this new guy; the one from the dating website. Thomas.
The next morning, I can't get to my computer fast enough. I log back in, and scan the rest of his profile. He looks pretty normal; nothing jumps out at me. Enjoys trying new foods, he's a professional sommelier at an upscale restaurant, and he's played the French horn since childhood. All things that require engagement of the lips, I mentally note. Not to mention that he's fairly attractive, as well. A clean shaven, angular face with blonde cropped hair. The body shots show off a toned physique in fairly fashionable clothing. My eyes drift to his crotch, trying to make out an outline of some kind. I reread his mission statement: "Looking for a sweet girl to spend some time with. Must have lots of energy, be positive, and have a pretty mouth."
Able to have some perspective on it now, I decide to message him back, admitting to myself that I am up for getting laid again, just as much as finding a new partner, and I can't blame the guy for potentially being in the same position. I start with the cheery, vague greeting, "Hi Thomas! I'm Liz. Nice profile. Interested in learning more about you." That tingling in between my legs again, at the excitement of potential of communicating with a fellow mouth fetishist. Or at least, someone with similar interests. The computer dings. A response!
"Hello Liz. Nice to meet you. I like your picture. Would you like to grab a drink?" His forwardness surprises me; usually they chitchat a bit. But, he likes my picture. I guess that tells me what he thought of my mouth. I close my eyes and begin to picture him touching my lips, but the computer dings again, jarring me out of the fantasy. "I hope you don't think I'm too forward. I just would rather meet face to face to determine if we have a connection." Face to face; or mouth to mouth? He seems a little odd, but I do agree with him, regardless. It's a waste of time to email back and forth for weeks, when you'll know the moment you see each other if you're really interested. I'm not looking for a person just to e-correspond with, after all.
"Sure. But, I'll choose the place."
We meet downtown, at a cafe. Actually, the cafe I bring all my online dates to. It's well lit, populated, and I'm comfortable here. Plus, it has a decent wine menu and great food, which Thomas mentioned enjoying. I've only given him an hour; a precaution I now take from past internet mismatches. It gives you an out, if there isn't an immediate connection. I see him as soon as I enter, feeling a little shocked that he got there before me. In any case, he's wearing the light blue shirt he said he would be, and looks delicious. Clean cut, a little older than the picture on his profile, but with a sharp, attractive jawline. I stop to put on a little lip gloss. When I approach, I see how the shirt brings out the soft blue in his eyes, balancing his harder features nicely. "Thomas?"
"Liz. Hi." He rises, gives me a formal handshake, and gestures for me to sit down. Throughout initial the chitchat, he seems serious, doesn't really make eye contact, and is rather quiet. I nervously overtalk.
"So, you mentioned that you're a sommelier? You must have a very educated palate." Everything I say sounds sexual. "I can't tell the difference between a hundred dollar bottle, or a cheap one. At least I'm an easy date! You could feed me just about anything, and I'd be happy!" He smiles slightly, still averting his eyes. I go on, embarrassingly. "And, you play a wind instrument? I tried the flute when I was young, but I couldn't get the lip position correct. I would've loved to play, though. It just amazes me how such pleasurable things come out of someone doing something so odd as pretending to spit or trilling their lips." I demonstrate, then laugh, feeling myself blush crimson, realizing how I must look. But, even then, I can't help myself. "You mentioned being a foodie, too... You should try the pastries here. The pies are like orgasms on plates! Not that you would eat an orgasm. Well, I mean... you do, but..."
I'm about to conclude that he isn't that into me, when I realize that while he isn't looking into my eyes, he is however, focussed very intently on my mouth. And, it looks like he likes what he sees. Now and then, I see the corner of his lips curl up in satisfaction, as he watches. I babble on, barely coming up for air.
"The other day, I had the key lime pie with whipped topping, and it just melted in my mouth! I looked in the mirror later, and realized that I had cream all over my chin for most of the afternoon..."
As I become aware that my mouth is being observed so carefully, I make an effort to move my lips and tongue as sensually as possible. The whole thing is really turning me on, and I cross my legs under the table, pressing them together, satisfyingly. I also slow down, realizing that he is barely listening to what I'm saying, so I begin to improvise.
"I can't help myself from licking the silky smooth cream cheese off a carrot cupcake. Can you? The way it tickles the tastebuds at the tip of your tongue..."
I keep hearing the words pretty mouth in my head, and picturing him getting hard thinking about what he wants to do to mine. I put on another coat of lip gloss right there in front of him, and I swear I see him straining, virtually vibrating, as if he's trying to hold himself back. As the hour draws to a close, I tell him that I have another hour or so to spare, if he doesn't have anywhere he has to be.
Back at his place, Thomas fixes me a drink, and we sit on his sofa. His apartment is impeccably clean, almost unnervingly so, if I weren't so particular about tidiness myself. Makes me hopeful that he does have a sexual neurosis of some sort. He serves me a milky looking liquor on ice, and it seems to bring him pleasure to watch me drink it. It feels like cool, creamy heaven in my mouth. Again I find him staring, and now in the privacy of his room, I tease, "So, do I have a pretty mouth?” His eyes dart up to mine, maybe for the first time yet.
“Yes,” he exhales.
"For a minute, I didn't think you liked me. You're not exactly a conversationalist."
"I like you," he interrupts. Perhaps the most words he's strung together yet.
"Well, tell me about yourself. So, I can like you, too." I think it's his shyness that's making me so bold. But, I hope that maybe in the comfort of his own home, he'll open up a bit. “Seriously. What are you looking for?”
“Just someone to spend some time with."
"Uh, huh. Someone sweet." I add, referring to his online profile.
"Right," he blushes.
"And, do you think that's me?" He smiles.
"I don't know yet. It's hard to tell so soon."
"So... Spend some time doing what? Listening to you play French horn?"
"No, no," he chuckles. "But, finding someone with similar interests is important." Did he just say what I think he said? Similar interests. He's looking at my lips again, and I swear I can see him salivating.
"So, Thomas. Do you consider the mouth an erogenous zone?" I inquire, suddenly.
"Sorry? I..."
"I do. Well, mine is, at least."
"Really?"
"Mm hm. I love to have it stimulated. Constantly. It’s like an obsession. Chewing gum, playing with my tongue or lips, eating, drinking. And, other things..." I giggle flirtatiously, trying to gauge his reaction. “There’s nothing I like better than having my mouth full. Whether it be bubblegum, delectable desserts, or a creamy cocktail...” I raise my glass, and down the rest. “What do you think?”
“I think... that you’re right.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Stimulation of the mouth, or lips... can be very satisfying.”
“Satisfying.” Interesting choice of words. “Please continue.”
“Well, some people like their mouths touched by other people. Or, they like to... touch other people’s.”
“I see.” I’m watching his gaze the whole time. It’s barely left my lips, the whole conversation. I lick them, slowly and sensually. “You can touch mine,” I casually reply. “If you want." I enunciate every sound. A tentative smile spreads across his face, almost with a look of relief, or thanks. I feel myself smile as well, blushing an attractive shade of pink. My pussy tingles suddenly, and I feel my nipples harden through my blouse. Still unsure if he is a true fetishist, I wait for him to make a move. With extreme anticipation. It seems like minutes tick by as I lick my lips and feel a bead of sweat break my hairline.
Then, he moves. He reaches forward, first cradling my face in his hand, then letting his thumb wander toward my lips. I watch his face, and my breath quickens, seeing how much he enjoys touching me there. Eyes alight, lips slightly apart himself, he moves his thumb just close enough inside my mouth to gather a bit of moisture, which he spreads over my lower lip. I relax them, pouting my lips for him, making them as full and soft as I can. I watch his eyes follow his thumb, which is now hit by my warm, quickening breath. His other fingers join in, gently moving the flesh of my lips as they pass over them. Such a small gesture, but one that seems to leave us both craving the full meal. I readjust on the couch, and realize how wet I am. I can't take it anymore. I quickly remove my blouse.
"Keep going," I tell him. I kneel on the carpet, still wearing my bra and skirt, and he stands over me, the bulge of his cock now near my face. So close, that I can see it twitch through his pants, straining against the material. I grasp my hands behind me, in a sign of submission.
"Can you open your mouth?" he says. God, yes. I do so, with my tongue still in my mouth, my lips open in an "o" shape, making sure to look up at him while I do it. He again uses his thumb to trace the circle of my open mouth, and then, suddenly, completely plunges it inside. I seal my lips around it, and I let him slowly thrust it in and out of my mouth. My pussy floods with moisture, and I fight to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head, it's so pleasurable. Every part of me is engorged and erect. He extracts his finger, leaving me gasping. I'm pleased to see that he too, is breathless.
"Show me your tongue," Thomas says, with a little more confidence. I obey immediately, sticking it out as far as I can, while having it still look relaxed and soft. He gives me the tip of his finger, which I enthusiastically encircle with my tongue. He pulls at my cheeks; gently tugging, one by one, to see how far I can open. I love being inspected like this, as if he's seeing whether my mouth is up to the task. I find myself very eager to please; staying still, holding myself this way and that, and doing exactly as he asks of me. Satisfied, he slowly unbuttons his pants, revealing a massive hard on. I smile at the thought of taking a cock in my mouth, but feel nervous at the sight of it, because I've never had something that big in my mouth. I see now, why he wanted to see its capabilities first. I move to grasp it with my hand, but he tells me not to.
"Leave your hands behind you." I do so, leaning forward, and parting my lips to take the head into mouth. I was right. This is the biggest cock I've ever had. I widen my jaw, and take as much as I can. With his thick cock filling my mouth, almost touching the back of my throat, I feel so perfect and full. I reach down beneath my skirt, to play with myself, and immediately feel the urge to come. I start to move my mouth over him, but he puts his hand in my hair to still me. Instead, he starts to slowly thrust.
"Look up at me." In the ecstasy of it, I had closed my eyes. The pleasure of my eyes meeting his, with my mouth open so wide and so full with his cock, makes him pick up speed. "Hold it open." He thrusts longer, so that each time his cock leaves me completely, then comes right back, in a precise, fluid movement, into the waiting, open hole of my mouth.
"Keep it open. Don't move." I'm going to come. Furiously rubbing my clit, I feel myself spasm and release, crying out, while at almost the same time, feel his cock explode hot liquid while at the deepest part of my throat. I swallow, having my meal at last, collapsing on my elbow beside me, gasping for breath. He sits down hard, almost falling into the couch.
I look at Thomas from my place on the floor, and he smiles. Not a shy or unintentional one like before, that disappears quickly, along with an averted gaze. But, a full, open expression that I can connect with and read clearly. I ask with a smirk, "What are you doing next week?"
Please write more stories like this! Nothing turns me on more than mouths
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