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Too weird to live, too rare to die

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distraction:

I’ll want a taste of you. It’s like the appetizer getting you ready for what’s about to come—besides you, that is. I love it when you let me go down on you. I really can’t tell you why. Maybe it’s the feeling of knowing that you’re getting absolutely nothing, but pleasure out of it. And that it’s me who’s giving it to you.
The way you let me know I’m doing you right is just so fucking hot. When you squeeze my head in between your legs so damn tightly. Fingers running through my hair while you’re pushing my face against you as if I could get any closer than I already am. And when I hear you panting so loud, it just tells me that I shouldn’t stop.
Then there it is. You let me know that I should. Not with words, but with your body language. The moment your eyes roll back, thighs quiver, and your grip on me loosens. I know I got it out of you. And as I look back up at you with that huge grin on your face, trying to catch your breath, I know I accomplished my goal. That’s what you wanted, right?

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