Cock Worship

As I’m lost between your lips, I want you to lose yourself. With each inch that you take, I want a little more of you to slip away, a little more of everything else, everything around us, to fade and disappear. As you engulf me, I want that sensation, that slow filling of you, to engulf all else. 


 Think of it like hypnosis, where each little increment, every slight piece that grows and builds, makes all else fall away to make room. I want you to fall into a trance, with only the one thing on your mind. 


Forget about me. Forget about you. Forget about us. 


 Forget about the laundry in the hamper, that prick and work who keeps ogling you when he walks past, and how you really don’t know why Lana Del Ray is such a big thing. 


Forget about whether that crumpet you had this afternoon was a contravention of your diet plan, or if I’m wondering whether it’s maybe been a day too many since you last shaved your legs. 


 Empty. 


 Your. 


 Mind. 


 And think about what’s between your lips. Obsess over it. Savour it. Let it take over your mind as you take it over with your mouth. Study it. Examine it with your tongue, with your lips, and, if you’re feeling particularly brave, with your teeth. Trace your hands around the base like an palaeontologist uncovering a bone. Delicate and thorough. 


 Make it your life’s work, and don’t allow anything else into your life. At least for the moments between when you take me into your mouth, and when you finally release me. In those moments, it’s just you and me. That very specific, very hard, very swollen and throbbing part of me. 


 Worship.

- Brilliantly written by My Trousers Rolled, on tumblr.