Sometimes we're mid fuck and he puts two pillows at the edge of the bed and flips me on my back. I know he's about to pound my wide open mouth upside down, angling past my gag reflex and into my torso somewhere.

He presses deep into my throat, gets a rhythm going. I relax into the pounding, lie there and take it like a good slut. At some point, I need a moment to stop from being water boarded by my own saliva. But I'm a modern woman who believes in active recovery, for heavens sake. I can suck balls and catch my breath at the same time.

It's one of my favorite ways to be. On my back, vulnerable, a sexualized object. He looks down at my body and jacks off looking at me writhing there. He can't see my face because his balls are filling it. For me, I smell nothing but sex, his crotch shuddering in my face as I suck one ball, then the other, then both together. I see his asshole less than an inch away, tongue at it when it looks close enough. I twist my nipple with one hand, rub my clit with the other. His dick is well lubed with that thick throat spit, and it hits my chest as he beats off. Heaven.

If I'm lucky, he blows all over me like that, like he did yesterday.