My other prompts are also open.

I want to chat to a woman who loves cum, a woman who chooses to swallow rather than spit, who gets off on the feeling of her partner twitching, spasming, letting out a cry and then exploding in her mouth, filling it with hot, salty essence of man, spunk, jizz, sperm, semen, love juice, swimmers, baby batter, daddy sauce, man chowder, splooge, seed, cream, milkshake, ejaculate, whatever you call it.

There’s something about a woman who loves to see her partner shooting his load as she brings him off, who can’t help but look and then take a taste afterwards and maybe share it with him, who likes to play with the sticky strands between her fingers or on her lips and gets off on the idea of a man making a mess of himself, perhaps at the most inconvenient time, and is ready to make that happen one way or the other.

Cum is the primal essence. Men are just machines for fucking; delivery systems for sperm.

For all of male pretensions to civilised behaviour and goals, we know the truth that really we’re just reducible to the hot, sticky DNA that shoots optimistically from our stiff cocks hopefully into a warm pussy (for those of us who like women) or mouth, but more often into thin air or our pants. In a very real sense, if you swallow a man’s cum then you swallow the man and when a man shoots his seed he’s giving you his very best, whatever that amounts to… everything else is advertising.

A man can never fake it because you have the only proof that matters dripping from his dick.

The texture, the taste, the smell, the sperm count, the quantity, consistency, the when and the where, the cum of a twenty year old vs. the cum of a fifty year old, the cum of different men, of multiple men mixing together, first experiences, hottest experiences, weirdest experiences, the reproductive imperative, the impulse to breed, anything, everything, let’s chat about cum…