It's always that intense moment after. As his seed slowly trickles down my throat, and his belly is covered in my saliva (I am messy like that), I rest my head there for a little. Sometimes his cock still in my mouth, softening lightly. He holds his hands in my hair stroking me gently. I don't want to move up for the inevitable kiss and he never makes me to. I want to stay there, taking in the heady aroma of his cum and my sweat, my cheek against his cock and hair on his stomach.
Then he shifts a bit. Takes off my blindfold. I see his face for the first time since I walked through the door.
"Would you like a drink?"
"Yes"
"What would you like?'
"Water"
"Water"
He brings me a glass. I never look up. I just take it because I am still holding the olfactory memory in my head and I don't want to let go. I have a deep, long slugging drink of delicious watery neutralness washing away his cum and his taste.
Then I turn over and smile.
"So, how are you?"
