That Night in the Hotel I Gave Him Everything with My Mouth

I can still close my eyes and feel the throb of his body against my lips. That night in Porto was the first time in six months I breathed his skin up close, and the memory stays with me like a mark I never want erased.

Nicolás and I had been together for three years, but the last one had been long-distance. He moved for work and what we had held together with video calls, voice messages, and a physical need that grew each week until it became unbearable. When we finally planned that trip together, I felt like my chest was going to burst with anticipation, and so was my cunt, which had been surviving for months on fingers and toys while I listened to him cum on the other side of the screen.

We arrived at the hotel after nine at night, wrecked after spending the whole day walking the cobblestone streets of the center. A modest hotel near the river, with a double bed that creaked when you sat on it and a window that looked out onto a narrow alley. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was ours. We collapsed onto the mattress still dressed, dead tired, and laughed when we realized how sweaty we both were.

—Shall we take a shower together? —I asked him.

—Yeah, but first I want to just lie here with you for a while. I missed this so much.

I settled on his chest and held him as if I could melt into him. I felt the firm beat of his heart under my ear and a knot formed in my throat. It wasn’t sadness, it was relief. The huge relief of finally touching what for months had been only an image on a screen. I gave him a soft kiss on the mouth, slow, and stayed there with my nose buried in his neck, breathing him in. His smell after a whole day walking under the sun was intense, animal, and it woke up something in me I had been holding back for far too long.

With every breath against his skin, memories flooded me. Our first times together, the clumsiness of the beginning, how we learned to read each other’s bodies. There was a time when we lost tenderness amid all the routine, but we got it back, and that reunion with softness wasn’t a step backward but the opposite. It was a maturity that made us better lovers and better partners. Now I knew exactly how to suck his cock until he turned into a rag, and he knew exactly how to sink two fingers into me until I screamed.

—I need to do something —I told him quietly, almost against his skin.

He looked at me with half-closed eyes and the shadow of a smile.

—What thing?

—I need your cock in my mouth. Now.

I didn’t wait for an answer. I slid down the bed and my fingers found the button on his pants.

Six months. Six months dreaming of this.

I undid his jeans with anxious, clumsy hands and pulled them down to his knees along with his boxers. His cock sprang out half-hard, thick, heavy against his belly, and just seeing it there, within reach of my mouth after so many nights of seeing it over video calls, tore a low moan from me I couldn’t even hold back. Before touching it, I stayed there for a moment, looking at it. His body had changed a little in those months: firmer thighs, skin a darker shade from summer, and that thick vein running along the side of his cock stood out more than before. I leaned in and kissed the inside of his thigh, slowly, letting my breath brush him first. I felt his skin rise under my lips and his breathing catch somewhere between his throat and his chest.

When I got to his cock, the first thing I did was take a deep breath with my nose buried at the base, against the hair. His smell hit me with a mix of sweat, hot skin, and something rawer that turned my stomach in a way I can only describe as hunger. Not hunger for food. Hunger for him, for his cock, for his cum, for everything he gives me. I flattened my tongue from his balls to the tip, very slowly, feeling the skin tighten under my passing. I planted wet kisses all along the length, barely sucking with closed lips, tracing every centimeter calmly, as if I were rediscovering something beloved after a very long trip.

To me that act had always been so much more than something merely sexual. It is the most absolute intimacy that exists between two people. Putting your mouth on the most vulnerable part of another body, in an act of total surrender, with the sole purpose of giving pleasure. There is something about that asymmetry that gives me a mix of power and devotion nothing else can. It isn’t submission. It’s choice. I choose to be on my knees with his cock in my mouth because I want to, because I like it, because in that place I feel like I’m telling him with my body everything words can’t quite reach.

—Sit on the edge of the bed —I asked, my voice rough.

He moved where I told him, but not before taking my face in both hands and kissing me with an intensity that made my knees go weak. He shoved his tongue deep into my mouth and I sucked on it as if I were already sucking something else. When he pulled back he looked at me like he couldn’t believe I was real.

—All yours —I said, and I knelt between his legs as if that were my place in the world.

And maybe it was. Him sitting on the edge of the mattress, legs spread just enough, his cock already fully hard pointing at my face, and me down there, looking up at him from that angle that made me feel powerful and surrendered at the same time.

I ran my fingertips along the inside of his thighs, very slowly. I wanted to feel every reaction: the slightest tremor in his skin, the way his breathing sped up, how his hands clenched the edge of the mattress looking for something to hold onto. It fascinated me to know that with so little I was already undoing him. I’m not a stunning woman, I’ve never considered myself one, but with Nicolás I feel capable of anything, capable of being the hottest whore in the world when I’m between his legs.

I took his cock in my right hand, firm but gentle, as if claiming something that belongs to me. I felt it pulse against my palm, hot, heavy, with that hardness it only has when it’s about to burst. I stroked it a couple of times from top to bottom, looking him in the eyes, squeezing just below the head where I know he loses his mind. I love watching his eyes slowly close, how he presses his mouth shut trying to hold back a moan that’s already rising. He always tries to act strong at first, and he always loses.

I let my hair fall over his thighs and lowered my gaze. First I only kissed it with closed lips: short little kisses all over the length, along the frenulum, along the sides, a long kiss on the head that was already starting to release a clear drop. I collected that drop with the tip of my tongue and tasted it without taking my eyes off him. I felt every pulse against my mouth and that lit me up in a way that caught me off guard. I was completely soaked without him even touching me, my panties drenched, tightening around my swollen cunt.

I opened my lips and took it in slowly, centimeter by centimeter, while my tongue wrapped underneath it. The first muffled groan that escaped him was the prize I’d been waiting months for. His taste filled my mouth like a memory that comes back all at once and shakes you to your core: salty, thick, completely his. I pulled back again, spat on the tip, and spread the saliva with my hand until the whole thing gleamed, slippery, ready for me to work it with my mouth without restraint.

I took it back in, this time deeper, until I felt it hit the back of my palate. I moved calmly, without rushing. I had waited too long for this and I wasn’t about to waste it. I went up and down letting my lips apply just the right pressure, letting my tongue draw slow circles when I got to the top and glide with force when I went down to the bottom. It had taken me years to perfect deep throating with him, to learn to relax every muscle in my neck to take all of it without gagging. I knew every ridge, every vein, every sensitive spot, every rhythm that brought him closer to the edge or pulled him back.

I went all the way down until my nose bumped his belly and I felt the tip buried in the back of my throat. I stayed there for a few seconds, swallowing around it, feeling my throat clench around him in waves while tears filled my eyes. When I pulled it out, a thick strand of saliva hung from my chin to the wet head of his cock. He let out a muffled “holy fuck” and I smiled before taking him whole again.

Sometimes I pulled back for just an instant to look at it, to let him see how it gleamed with my saliva and his own pre-cum, to make him feel the cold air before I took him back in as far as my throat would allow. I brushed the tip over my lips, rubbed it against my cheek, against my hanging tongue, in a display I knew was killing him. Every time I did that, his hips gave a small involuntary jerk forward. Looking for me. Needing me. Fucking my mouth without asking permission.

—Take all of it, Cami, please —he murmured, voice wrecked—. I need to see you with your mouth full.

I did as he asked. I took him all the way back to the bottom, and this time I grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of my neck, wordlessly telling him to push, to use it. When his hands tangled in my hair —this time truly pushing, setting the pace— I knew he was losing control. He fucked my mouth with short thrusts, pulling almost all the way out to sink back down to the hilt, and I let him do it with my eyes closed and saliva streaming down my chin to my tits.

I sped up a little, but not too much. I wanted it to last. I wanted him to feel every rub, every suck, that circular motion with my tongue right under the head that I discovered years ago drives him completely insane and that I keep like a secret weapon for moments exactly like this. I sucked hard on the way up, hollowing my cheeks, and eased up on the way down so he could slide without resistance to the very bottom.

With my free hand I fondled his balls, softly, weighing them, massaging them to the rhythm of my mouth. I could feel them loaded, tight, swollen from six months without me. Every now and then I’d go down there with my tongue and lick them slowly, one by one, taking them into my mouth while I kept working his cock with my hand. His face in those moments was something no screen had been able to give me for half a year: clenched jaw, half-closed eyes, that expression of absolute surrender that sent a wave of heat straight between my legs. I pressed my thighs together and realized I was about to come on my own, without touching myself, just from sucking him.

I worked my way back up the shaft, licking the vein from underneath, my tongue glued to it as if I were climbing something forbidden, and took him in again whole. I felt him grow inside my mouth, get harder, thicker. His breathing became ragged and his hips started moving on their own, searching for more depth, more friction. And I gave him what he was looking for. Faster, wetter, deeper. Saliva poured from my chin in streams, between my tits still trapped under my clothes, and I didn’t give a fuck about looking like a mess. My name slipped from him between moans —“Cami, Cami, fuck”— and that sound made me squeeze my thighs even harder.

When I knew he was on the edge, I eased up for a second. Just to torture him a little. I pulled him all the way out of my mouth, held him by the base, and licked the tip with a pointed tongue, barely sucking, giving him quick, shallow flicks I knew would drive him insane. To hear that guttural groan that turns me on more than anything else in the world. I left him there for a few seconds, just brushing him with my lips, blowing cool air over the wet skin, and felt his whole body tense up, demanding me.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop —he gasped, pulling my hair.

I took him whole again, hard, determined. Tongue pressed against the vein underneath, lips sealed around the shaft and my hand working from the base in perfect coordination, twisting slightly on the way up as if I were milking him into my mouth. I didn’t stop. I sped up until the wet sounds of my mouth sucking him filled the entire room, an obscene sloshing mixed with his higher and higher moans. I took him all the way to the end without looking away from his eyes.

—I’m coming, Cami, I’m coming, I’m coming…

And when he did, I felt every spasm, every pulse, the first hot jet hitting the back of my mouth with a force that almost made me cough. I didn’t move. I let him empty himself into my mouth while I stared straight at him and tightened my lips to draw out the very last drop, as if each one were something owed to me by right. Stream after stream, thick, hot, more than I remembered, filling my mouth to the point where I felt it might spill from the corners. His body shook, his hands clenching and unclenching in my hair, and a rough sound that was half moan, half sigh filled the whole room. I kept sucking slowly, milking him with my hand from base to tip, stripping out the last of what remained in the shaft.

I stayed still with his cock still throbbing in my mouth. I didn’t swallow right away. I wanted to savor that exact moment, that instant when his whole body was mine. I felt the thick warmth spreading across my tongue, that dense texture blending with my saliva and turning softer with every second. There was much more than usual, a lot more, half a year’s worth of restraint concentrated in my mouth, and that made me feel proud in a primitive and tender way at the same time.

I slid it out carefully, not letting a single drop fall. I parted my lips a little and let the semen gather in the center of my tongue. I tasted it slowly: thick, slightly bitter, completely his. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply through my nose, letting his smell fill me completely. That raw, animal smell that should disgust me but, coming from him, gave me an absurd little stab of tenderness.

I raised my gaze to find his eyes. He had his head thrown back, breathing still uneven, but when he saw me down there with my lips shining and my cheeks puffed with his cum, his expression changed all at once. It went from savage to tender, almost shy, and that melted me more than everything that came before. I showed him my tongue for a second so he could see the white pool on it, that thick mix of semen and saliva, and his pupils dilated instantly. A barely audible “My God” slipped out of him.

Then I swallowed slowly, very slowly, in two gulps, letting him see every movement of my throat. I did it without taking my eyes off him, so he would know that I wasn’t just accepting what he gave me: I wanted it. I wanted him inside me in every possible way. I felt it go down hot through my throat, reaching my stomach like an internal caress, as if part of him were going to live in me a little longer.

When I was done, I ran my thumb along the corner of my mouth to catch the little thread that had escaped, put it in my mouth, and sucked it without looking away from him. Then I took his cock, still softening, and licked the tip one last time, cleaning him completely with my tongue, savoring the last drops left in the hollow. I offered my tongue again to show him there was nothing left. I licked my lips slowly, tasting the remnants, and smiled at him with that smile he says completely undoes him.

—You’ve wrecked me —he murmured, his legs still trembling.

I slowly climbed up toward him and curled against his still-heaving chest. We collapsed onto the mattress. He held me tight, kissed my hair, my forehead, the corner of my mouth, not caring about anything, finding himself in my tongue.

—You’re incredible, Cami. I love you —he whispered, voice breaking.

I only purred against his chest, unable to form a full sentence. It wasn’t necessary.

Because for me it wasn’t just oral sex. It was devotion. It was the most honest way I found to tell him everything the video calls and messages couldn’t convey. Six months of distance compressed into every movement of my tongue, into every pressure of my lips, into every stream I swallowed with the absolute certainty that it was mine.

That night we showered together, in silence, with a stupid smile neither of us could wipe off our faces. Under the hot water I soaped his cock with one hand and he slipped two fingers into my soaked cunt, making me come against the tiles with my mouth pressed to his to muffle the cries. After that we crawled between the sheets of that modest hotel and fell asleep tangled together, with the window open and the distant murmur of the river drifting into the room.

I can still close my eyes and go back to that night. I can still taste his semen mixed with the salt of his skin and the echo of his ragged breathing. I know that when I kneel between his legs again I’m going to put the same love into my lips that I put in them that night in Porto. Because nothing in the world makes me feel more powerful and more loved than giving myself like that, completely, without reserve, with my mouth full of his cock and his cum as living proof of how much I love him.