I miss it. I miss the feel of a cock getting harder (in my hand, in my mouth, in my ass). I miss the feel of him losing control, sometimes wanting to pull out/back/away to ‘do the right thing’, and me not letting him. I miss the feel of a hard dick after I have pushed it to the edge, exploding. In me. On me. For me. Some days, I want to go find one (some hot young stud), and surprise him with my passion for his pleasure. Some days, I want to take my wife out to find a sexy college guy so she can watch. She doesn’t know. Has no idea that I’ve ever even touched a man. Much less that I’ve spent time learning to be the best cock-hound/cum-slut/sissy-bitch that I could be. That I performed on him, for him, in front of an audience. More than once. That I begged him to fuck me. That I leaned over in an outdoor crowd, pulled out his cock, and started sucking. Always until he exploded. She doesn’t know, when she gags on my erection that I don’t. I sometimes want to say “it’s easy. just take it all. i know, i’ve done it. lots.” She surely doesn’t know, when we talk about fantasies, that I would. If she said yes. I would go with her to find that young man, and ‘share’ his cock with her in the beginning, and then take over. And he would want me to. She’s sexy, and tolerates giving head. But me? I love it. Even after so long. Still.