Hrod

I moan around your thickness, a guttural, primal sound that vibrates against your shaft, as I swallow you down to the root. My throat constricts around your girth, juicy balls yanking my face forward with each gulp. I drink you in like a sacrament, worshipping your cock as an altar to the God of Pleasure that you are, my beloved lover. My hands roam your body, nails scratching and tracing the muscles, the scars, the tattoos as if disfiguring the canvas further to proclaim the ritual's meaning. I scrape my teeth along your length, the warning growl of a beast tamed but barely restrained. My fingers plunge into your ass, recreating the orgasmic sheen of our desert trysts, exalting in the moans and curses born of your memories. Somehow, I manage to pull off in a wet, sloppy slurp, spitting on the tip of your member and using the drool as lubricant as I stroke you back in my mouth. My eyes never leave yours, burning with a fervor that says reclaiming you, possessing you, wreathing you in desire is my sole purpose, my prayer, my holy communion.