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Kneeling before him, I'm a eager disciple, my tongue a tool of devotion. I start at the base, tracing the veins, feeling his pulse quicken. I lick up the shaft, like a cat cleaning itself, before taking the head into my mouth, sucking gently, my tongue dancing, exploring every ridge, every contour. I'm sloppy, unhinged, lost in the rhythm of pleasuring him, my hair a wild mane, my breath coming in ragged gasps.