He was, it seems, "mere milliseconds from cumming" when I abruptly stopped doing whatever "amazing" thing I was doing, and switched my attentions from his cock to his scrotum. Perhaps I had been sending my tongue in laps around the head of his dick, allowing my teeth to scrape one side as I rounded the bend. Should you ever have the honor of sucking my Master's cock, you can forget those standard instructions to hide your teeth behind your lips. He likes teeth.
I'm supposed to switch off like that. The sadist is almost never in a hurry to cum. He's a sensualist, as am I, and takes his time luxuriating in pleasure. It's not a requirement, though, to switch to his scrotum with my fingertips or mouth when he seems to be getting too high. He reminded me of that Monday. He wasn't really mad, though. I think he was proud of me.
He said I could brag. He said I could brag here about the extraordinary blow job I gave him. He said it was my best oral performance to date. He's been saying that regularly for the last 3 weeks. I accept his praise happily, as I do know I've done well. However, I also think we are going through a particularly intimate spell, and that can't help but have an effect on both of us.
Besides, it's part of my job.
Make him lunch.
Suck his cock.
Present my ass.
Sing my gasps and moans.
Breathe my love into his ear.
It's not asking too much.
So I concentrate.
I suck and lick and yield and cry.
He wanted me to be his sex slave and damn if I wasn't the best cocksucking sex slave any Master could possibly hope for.
And oh yes.
He did finally cum.
Seems it was one hell of an orgasm.
He said he was "transported."
Clearly, he went First Class.