NaPoWriMo 4: An Anecdote.

My first cock,
and you sat thick
and lovely
in my uncertain
fingers

I admired you
with vague apprehension.

And despite any misgivings
I had some notion
of how this business went,
so I tongued you
like some would turn a radio dial–
until your moans hit
that musical frequency.

You were young then too,
and loaded long before I touched you
so that my vigor
soon outweighed
whatever I lacked in finesse
and your hips rumbled like Vesuvius
so that you cried a
warning to
me–I pulled
back my mouth and
pumped my
hand fast through
slickspit
until you
discharged and finally fell
slack.

I sighed in satisfaction,
and smiling then, looked up
to meet your eyes
and lovingly gaze
into one of them

because the other one was closed–
and covered by your hand,
which pulled away thinly coated
in cum.

There was a slow span of time
for that spark of comprehension
to portentously grow itself
in silence.

After a moment,
you quietly asked for a tissue.

And invariably from that day forth,
I swallowed.

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