I’m 34, and I’ve had my fair share of cocks, but let’s be real—it’s not just about the dick. It’s about what comes out of it. Cum. That’s the fucking prize. And I’ve got opinions. Strong ones. I’m not here to sugarcoat shit, so let’s dive in.

First off, texture matters. I’m not talking about that watery, sad-ass dribble some guys shoot out like they’re half-assing the whole thing. No, I want it thick. The kind of cum that ropes out, sticky and heavy, like it’s got some fucking purpose. When it lands on my skin, I want to feel it—like a slap of heat that reminds me I did my job right. That’s the good shit. The kind that makes me want to rub it in, smear it across my tits or my face, just to feel it cling to me.

Taste? Yeah, that’s a thing too. I’ve had cum that’s bitter as hell, like the guy’s been mainlining coffee and cigarettes. Fuck that. I want it mild, almost sweet, but not too sweet. Like, I’m not looking for dessert here, but I don’t want to gag either. The best is when it’s just salty enough to make my tongue tingle, but not so much that I’m reaching for a glass of water. And don’t even get me started on the guys who think eating pineapple is gonna magically make their jizz taste like candy. It’s not a fucking science project. Just drink some water and lay off the junk food, alright?

Volume is a big deal for me too. I don’t want some pathetic little spurt that’s over before it starts. I want a fucking show. Give me a guy who can unload like he’s been saving it up for weeks. The kind of cumshot that makes me feel like I’ve earned it, you know? When it’s pumping out in thick ropes, covering my tits or my ass, or better yet, shooting straight down my throat—that’s when I know I’ve done my job right. And yeah, I’ll swallow. Not because I’m some submissive little girl, but because I fucking like it. The warmth, the way it coats my throat, the way it makes me feel like I’ve taken something primal and raw from him. It’s mine now.

And let’s talk about the aftermath. The way it smells, the way it dries on my skin, the way it reminds me of what just happened. I love that shit. I’ll walk around with it on me for hours, just to feel it crust over, to know that I’m marked. It’s not about being owned—it’s about being desired. About knowing that I made him lose control, that I took everything he had and made it mine.

So yeah, I’ve got a type when it comes to cum. Thick, salty, and fucking plentiful. If you can’t deliver that, then don’t waste my time.