Red Wine and Late Night Blowjobs
He never shuts up. Except for when I go down on him, and the only thing escaping his lips are moans. I guess, he’s hot. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, pressing my lips against the wine glass as I take a sip, and listen to him talk about work and buying a flat one day. Most of his words pass my ears, not even registering. I don’t care that much, really.
Maybe I turn into a different person with some alcohol in my blood. Especially, my drink of choice — red wine. Suddenly, the world seems limitless. Anything is possible. Buying concert tickets? Why not! Planning travels to a foreign land? Sign me up! Wrapping my lips around his cock? Sounds like a damn good idea to me.
The day after, I’m unable to stop thinking about it. I mean… He is not even that special. Not special at all. Yet, I go back in time to relive that moment again and again. Maybe it’s a bit about the power for me. Knowing he’s at my mercy, and that I’m damn good at what I do. Men always compliment my blowjob skills. Of course, they do. I suck dick enthusiastically, seemingly always knowing what to do, how to press my tongue against the shaft, how hard to suck to make them cum in no time. Maybe I’m not so worthless after all. Hey, mum and dad, I’m good at something! Ironically, it’s giving head.
I wonder if I will see him again. Do I want to? I’m not sure. I like sex, but…
