After dealing with “Anticipation,” I was exercising but my mind was already working on the next state of mind it wanted to examine, that being that moment when you’re just on automatic, doing whatever you’re doing, and time seems to lose meaning.
There are things running around in the background because your mind never really shuts down; even when you’re not thinking of anything, your noodle’s still doing stuff. So, at that first contact, say, when I have his erection in my hand and I’m about to give it that first lick, conscious thought gives way to… instinct? I’m not sure what to call it even though it’s clear that I’m going to give his dick the best sucking I can manage. I know how to do it, not quite sure how I’m gonna go about it and I can’t even say that this depends on something – I never know how I’m going to blow him until I actually start doing it (and maybe not even then). I know my lust is calling the shots; it wants to taste him, feel the weird hardness/softness of his erection, wants to sample his scent and to hear him moan or start breathing hard.
Maybe I want to fuck with him, take my time in doing whatever it is I’m gonna do… or maybe this isn’t about finesse and it’s all about feeding the beast within me with raw, carnal intent. What I do know that I go about it mindlessly, doing without thinking, reacting, causing reactions, and all with one underlying thought that is prominent: Make him cum. The sooner, the better works at times; sometimes it doesn’t and, sometimes, it doesn’t matter because all that really matters is what I’m doing to him.
I might get inspired to suck on his neck, his nipples and, if I’m feeling either really bold or kinda evil, slip a finger just inside his corn hole. I never plan such things but it’s probably based on how I’m feeling the flow of things and how I’m feeling him.
He may be doing something to me, jerking me, fondling my sac, sucking me at the same pace and rhythm that I’m doing him. I’m aware of it and doing that odd thing of paying attention to what he’s doing and not really paying attention because we’re both trying not to be distracted from what we’re doing… while doing everything possible to cause such a distraction.
During anticipation, I might be very much aware of the time. One because I know what time we were to meet up or I’ve just absently noted it because I saw it when I looked at a clock or my watch; I might even be very much aware of the fact that we don’t have a lot of time to get this done. Otherwise, once that first touch happens, time stops… or it seems to stop, slow down, speed up. Seconds feel like minutes; minutes are like hours going by; my internal clock seems confused – I know I’ve only been sucking him for a minute but it just seems to be much longer than that – man, that time dilation thing is a bitch to figure out.
We’re working on each other, sweating, heavy breathing, fucking each other’s mouths, holding heads in place by whatever means is available; cocks are licked, sucked, and kissed from crown to base; balls are suckled and fondled; butt holes might be getting teased in some way. Whatever’s taking place is happening in zero time and without any thoughts other than to prolong the pleasure and dealing with the anticipation of release.
He cums and so do I and now we’re both lost in the abyss and the confusion of wanting to cum and not wanting to at the same time; it’s getting to the point of no return and the somewhat scary thought that nothing’s gonna stop this from happening and, whoops, over the edge you go, your senses just overwhelmed and almost unbearable.
Then that moment of clarity hits you, like a storm that’s just passed (I’ll get to this in another post shortly); you’re trying to regulate your breathing and letting your heart rate come back down… and you notice that only five or ten minutes have passed.
What? I could have sworn on a stack of bibles that we’ve been at this at least an hour or more! But whatever reminded you of the passage of time doesn’t lie; what felt like a long period of time was anything but. Even better comes the realization that while I know what I did, I couldn’t begin to tell you about it. Oh, I’ll be able to do that much later but in those first few seconds after release, nope, can’t help you on that one until I can at least get my breathing back to normal – then I should be able to say something that is coherent and makes sense.
I’ve done this with men – it happens with women, too, but we’re not talking about the ladies today – and I’ve found myself sitting back after the fact basking in the delicious feelings of having sucked a guy off but trying to piece together just what was going on that my brain kinda shut down and I couldn’t tell the difference between two seconds and two minutes. What happened? Where did I go during that time?
Yeah, yeah, I know that I’m anal enough to wonder about such things – but that’s because having sex never fails to amaze me. Some folks just accept that they do and never give much thought to what goes on before, during, and after the fact but a lot of this wondering is just me trying to understand myself in this.
Now, stay tuned for the last part of this little trilogy…