All The Flavors of You (by Rylan Hunter)
I like the way you taste.
When you stumble in the door after jogging all morning and your hair is damp with sweat while you stand there and wait for your breathing to slow; you’re irresistible. I can’t keep from moving close to you until my body, still warm from just getting out of bed, is pressed against yours and I can feel your heart pounding through the thin shirt that separates us. I always wonder if it’s pounding from the run or from the touch of me. My hands slip around to your back and I pull you closer, lifting myself higher by balancing on my toes and then I run my tongue over your collarbone … up your neck … over your jaw. I can taste you. When I finally reach your lips, you always make that same sound deep in the back of your throat and begin to taste me back.
I crave the way you taste.
Kneeling before you in the bathroom at the stadium; we can hear the music bleeding through the walls and the vibrations rise up from the floor and into our bodies. The lights, the crowd, the bodies swaying has become too much and I need to taste you. Even before you finish unzipping your pants, I’m tugging them down until they reach your knees and I can already smell the night on you. The door to the bathroom open and closes as other men from the concert come in and go out and I’m aware that my feet and knees are visible to anyone who cares to look but that’s just what makes it even better. You never say a word. I wrap my fingers around you and I imagine I can feel the faint rush of blood as it cruises into the veins of your cock. I lean close and lick the very tip. There isn’t much fluid there yet, but it’s like an appetizer for what’s to come. Shuffling closer on my knees, I use my other hand to grasp the back of your thigh and I lose myself in all of your spices. The musky flavors that cling to your balls until I tease them into my mouth are very different from the tang leaking in tiny amounts from the head and I have every single one memorized. And when I finally coax the slippery fluids onto my tongue while your thighs tremble, I swallow hard because I’m greedy for you, keeping every drop for me.
I hunger for the way you taste.
As I part the curves of flesh, the air is pungent with the fragrance of you. The night is heavy with heat and humidity and my hands slide along your damp skin as we break old taboos and you clench the sheets in each fist. My tongue becomes a weapon to break down all of your defenses as I probe the clenching hole, pushing and wiggling my way inside. It’s a game to see how deep your groans will get because you’re always the one in control, the one who owns me but this is when you belong to me. Let go, I urge you silently and my prodding grows more insistent until your muscles give in and I feel my tongue slipping further inside. My taste buds send a signal to my brain that they’ve been here before and soon I’m drooling all over you with the flavors that are dark and mysterious; I imagine I hear wolves howling in the night and your voice joins them in chorus.
I love the way you taste.
Those moments after a warm shower together on a cold morning are my favorite. We sit together wrapped up in nothing more than the comforter and each other. Sometimes we whisper to each other, sometimes we laugh over little things, and the sun glints off the snow outside creating a light around us that reminds me of everything good. This is when you map my body with your eyes – with your hands – and you touch every part of me as if you’ve never seen me before. You always end your journey with my face and your fingers stroke along my brow, tap the end of my nose lightly, and smooth back my hair. I could almost fall asleep and sometimes I do close my eyes but then you find my mouth and with the instincts of a baby bird, I open up without hesitation and draw you in. Your finger tastes just as good as the rest of you because it belongs to the one that has awakened every part of me until every sense is sharp. I can taste your desire for me, your courage in loving me, and your promise that you will always have an appetite for all of the flavors of me.
Photography by Dan Skinner
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]All The Flavors of You (by Rylan Hunter),