Welcome to another episode of Bedtime Stories with Salty Vixen. Tonight’s story is titled “Mouth Music” Dear Sir,  It is your voice, your voice that shakes me from my dreaming; it is the voice hot and urgent that returns long before you appear to claim me. It is your voice, your voice, its rich accent, its echo, that sinks deep into the sensual curve gasping in rapture and ecstasy, that fills the place inside me where you should be, that enslaves then tears this woman here to cruel and easy shreds.

You recently confessed that you think about me daily.

That was a bad move on your part.

Why, you ask? Your admission only adds fuel to the already blustering fire, the need within me to make you seethe with a dire lust for me. So to match yours, Mano-a-mano, I’ll give you a confession of my own.

I think about being on my knees and paying homage to that beautiful cock of yours often, daily in fact. I think about such things in the shower, whilst driving, when I fuck myself slowly on my bed amongst crisp sheets. My hands wandering over my perspiring flesh, my mind swimming with imagery of you. Has my admission started to stiffen you yet, even a little? Can you feel the blood surging down your length to the very tip of your thick prick, the heaviness of your balls begging to be taken in hand while you devour these exact words?

Mouth music.

What if I told you I can still feel the tingle of my own climax pushing through my body right now, this very second, the scent of my own arousal still lingering on my fingertips as I type, the wet of my cunt begging for your attention? What if I confess that only moments ago, I was sent spinning into my own orgasm, dreaming of you filling my mouth and pulling my hair as you came hard like a schoolboy deep into my throat?

I’d happily hedge a bet you are rock solid by now, pulsing, wanting, needing more. How I wish you could see the satisfaction spread all over my face. I warned you long ago that I was a temptress, I told you my aim was to seduce you from the beginning. Perhaps you’ll believe me as I up the ante and taunt you with the imagery of my own fantasy.

Let me set the scene: You sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, me nestled at your feet amongst the plush of the thick carpet, my naked reflection mirrored by the expanse of the suite windows in the half light behind me. Not only can you look down between your legs to see the green of my eyes, the flicker of mischief pass my lips. Oh no. Look beyond that and straight ahead. Cast your eyes upon the curve of my back, watch every muscle move and flex as I run my hands slowly up and down your hard thighs, my mouth following their path, my mood dark and my want piqued by the gift of your flesh presented before me.

I can almost hear you moan as you feel my breath on the underside of your shaft, ever so lightly hitting the warmth of your skin with warmth of my own.

Oh fuck, you say? Oh fuck indeed. You know your pleasure ignites my own, your gasps only pushing me to make you tremble with raw anticipation further. Can you feel the heat of my lips taunting you yet? Are you stroking yourself now, reading hearing words, my desire burning through the your ears as your cock burns through the fabric of your pants?

God I hope so.

And then to taste your excitement on the head of your cock, my tongue dipping hungrily over your flesh. Perhaps you’ll free your bulging erection then? Run your hand slowly down your length as you think of me finally pressing my soft lips to you, my mouth slipping down slowly around you, my tongue beckoning you to the back of my throat. Look beyond my frame and watch my head languidly bob in the reflection before you in the hush of the suite, the dark shimmering of the city planted before us. Run your hands through my hair and feel the urgency you’ve stoked in me. Let the pace of your hand quicken as you think about how much you want this, how much I want to service you, how wet and lust-sodden you continue to make me time, and time, and time again.

Are you ready to come?

I know you are. I can feel it in the strength of your hand wrapped around my locks, your force pushing me down to the base of your shaft, my mouth taking your length with ease, moving over your taut pulsating skin repetitiously, back and forth, back and forth. Alive with wanton abandon, me fucking you in one of the best ways I know how, you taking what is rightfully yours. Use my mouth, rub yourself all over my flushed cheeks when the sensation becomes too much, fuck me at your pace. What does that look like? Please tell me. And when I decide it is time, watch my reflection draw the ache from you. Feel your body tense as the swell in your testicles rises to the pit of your stomach and through your fingertips.

I’ll greedily beckon you to surrender with my voracious lips and tongue, your hand gliding over your stiff cock quickly as you pump, you shudder, you tremble into orgasm, filled with thoughts of coming into my waiting and whore-like mouth as I suck the orgasm right out of you. Scarlet. Open. Ready. Clench down hard as you give yourself to me, a heaving mess, a blur upon crumpled sheets.

Lie there and feel the warmth of bliss kiss your toes, your eyelids, as I wash over you and savor every last drop of your come on my tongue. Satiated yet hungry, you fully spent with me on fire beside you.

Mouth music. I play you over and over in my head. You happen to be one of my favorite tunes.