"Vanessa de Largie's wonderful fierce and tender sexuality reminds me of Anais Nin's: she's a woman who doesn't deny her body and her desires but follows them unafraid and rejoicing. These days this sincerity makes her a truly refreshing voice - and a happy one to find."
Critically Acclaimed Author - Kate Holden. Author of In My Skin & The Romantic. Former Age Columnist.
TANTRIC AFTERNOONS IS PUBLISHED BY AUSTRALIAN/PARISIAN PUBLISHER HAMPRESS
WARNING: This post is XXX rated. Explicit themes may offend some readers. 18+ only.
Dash’s penis was dashing. I would tease him about it. His cock was so handsome that, if I were a photographer, I would have taken a snapshot of it.
It’s not as if cock-books were a new invention. I knew of two women who took a photograph of every cock they slayed. I imagined them bringing it out when they were entertaining guests. I imagined them pointing at each throbbing nob and giving a social commentary on it.
I loved giving head; it was my favourite part of sex. I enjoyed it more than intercourse. I enjoyed it more than being eaten. I think there is a power in oral sex: you are fully responsible for another’s pleasure, for driving them insane with your tongue and mouth. Giving another person pleasure feeds me pleasure; I can cum by merely giving.
Dash and I were at it constantly. Sometimes, he wouldn’t make it to the living room without me attacking him and undoing his pants. He was a virile man; he always had a hard-on for me and plenty of blow.
Earlier in the year, I had picked up a translation of the Kama Sutra. It was an aged book with a beautiful woven binding in maroon. Most people think that the Kama Sutra is just an endless catalogue of sexual positions; I was one of these people. It turns out that the Kama Sutra has 1250 verses – certainly not a read for your morning train ride.
Being a fan of oral, I was anxious to read the chapter on cunnilingus and fellatio. In the Kama Sutra, oral is referred to as mouth congress or Auparishtaka. Back in that time - eunuchs, wanton women and spinsters practiced it. I was ecstatic to discover that Mr Kama Sutra would give me an A+ on my report- card for diligent and competent cock-sucking.
Dash’s manhood was circumcised. It had a thick shaft, which filled my pussy and my mouth. Unwrapping a cock was similar to unwrapping a Christmas gift: you never knew if you were about to receive something to remember or a dud trinket that you longed to forget.
Dash’s prized jewel was certainly not the latter. I walked through my days hankering to taste it, to savour it. I walked through my days tasting his saltiness in my mouth. His man juice was clean and abundant and addictive. I wanted to consume him.
Dash would usually stand as I took his cock in my mouth.
(Referred to in the Kama Sutra as nominal congress.)
His width would stretch and scratch at my lips.
(Referred to in the Kama Sutra as biting the sides.)
I would kiss and suck at his cock, his nob swelling with blood, with throb – a kissing and sucking that was drawing him out. (Referred to in the Kama Sutra as pressing outside.)
I would open my mouth poutily, his glossed penis slipping and sliding over my lower lip.
(Referred to in the Kama Sutra as kissing and rubbing.)
Dash would push my head onto his cock, filling my throat with hardness. I would feel his penis swelling inside me, as he manoeuvred bold strokes, fucking my mouth as if he was fucking a cunt.
(Referred to in the Kama Sutra as sucking a mango fruit.)
I’m about to blow, Dash would inform me. Swallow it, baby.
He would explode unapologetically in my mouth, his juice running down the back of my throat.
I would look up at him, swallowing his salty load.
(Referred to in the Kama Sutra as swallowing up.)
My panties would fill with orgasmic excretions. I would begin counting down the hours until our next round.
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