Hunger
Oral sex is eating. I go down on you because I’m hungry. I want to devour you, to taste you. I’m hungry for you.
Yes, I suppose, I’m hungry for your pleasure (see below). But when it’s best, when I’m best, it’s not for you, for your pleasure, that I dive between your legs and devote myself to your cunt. It’s for me, for my pleasure, to satisfy my need, to quench my desire. Because I’m famished.
Pleasure
Not yours, mine. There are few ways I would rather spend a Friday evening (or a Saturday morning, or a Tuesday afternoon, or…) than luxuriating in the taste, the smell, the feel – all of the sensations – of your pussy.
I don’t care if you come, really. I don’t care if it feels good for you. It’s for me, for my pleasure, that I choose to place my head between your thighs, to press my lips and tongue against you, to probe deep inside you. Your pleasure is about and for me. If you enjoy yourself, that’s great, but don’t mistake my motives: this isn’t for you. If you feel pleasure, that pleasure belongs to me. I own it. It is mine.
Communication
The act of pussy-licking is as much about my communicating with you, my telling you, my showing you, my causing you to have an embodied knowledge of everything I’ve written above. When my tongue is on your clit, a finger in your pussy, maybe another in your ass, or on your pubis, or grabbing your thigh, or breast, if I’m doing it right, you will know deep inside – in your head, in your heart, in your cunt – how true this is.