I’m in love.

He’s in a relationship. I’m in a relationship. I’ll call him Paul.

The other night I knelt between his legs and took his cock into my throat. It was during another one of our clandestine encounters in a new hotel, and he was still flushed and alert from his performance that evening. We kissed at the door, and my first impulse was to curl up against his chest and breathe a sigh of relief. I imagined all the defenses slipping from my body as I’d melt into the crook of his arm, my hair liquid, my body sleek.

My second impulse was to take his cock into my mouth.

When we kiss, it’s a short step to mutual nakedness. He opens his shirt, I lift mine, he opens his fly and then I see that delicious cock with its perfect arch and its smooth, hot head. So there I was: clandestine encounter, hotel room, my dark-haired man sinking into the sofa, and I’m kneeling there on the floor.

While I was down between his legs, he whispered that I should make a video from the woman’s perspective. I withdrew and let the head of his cock rest against my lips – “During sex?”

“No, during this,” he said, gesturing.

“Well, it’s hard to see much from down here,” I said. “It’s hard to tilt back and look up.” And then I dropped my eyes and let his cock slide past my lips and sink into my throat to prove my point. I held it there the way I always do, with intoxicated reverence, his shaft pulsing against my tongue. On the slow upstroke I glanced up — he was looking at me with half-closed eyes, his dress shirt was unbuttoned and open. I saw the chest that I love so much, that bit of black hair in the dip between his pecs that I’ve touched so many times with his heart still pounding hard under my fingertips. He’s beautiful.

Maybe I should shoot a video from the woman’s perspective.

Men seem to love that upward glance during a blow job. I do it, I glance up, but usually it’s only for a moment, just to give them my eyes but never to look. With him, I was looking.

I caught my breath and let the tip of my tongue play over the head of his cock while I watched his response. I watched him breathe with parted lips. I watched him close his eyes and tilt his head back. I listened to him moan, and then I dropped my eyes and drew him in deep again. I stroked and licked and sucked and drew up to the tip, ravished the underside of his cock while I kept a steady stare. I was excited by his vulnerability.

I felt deliciously slutty, as I often do, but I also felt such intense affection. I wanted it to last forever, I wanted him to never come, ever, so I could keep going, keep licking and sucking and watching. And then the groans. The movement of his hands. His lifting hips. I couldn’t help myself – I needed to take him in and hold him there, ride my high of lust and love and asphyxia.

He pulls out and we’re both out of breath, looking at one another. “I’m too close to coming,” he says, and I nod. But then my eyes drop down to the perfectly curved cock, wet with my spit and his precum. His eyes roll closed and I take him in.