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I am not in the habit of allowing my companion Sherlock Holmes to bring me off with my member in his mouth. My respect, and indeed reverence for him are too great to make it a comfortable experience for me. It does not seem appropriate that I should be the recipient of such a gesture from him.
My treatment of his body is worshipful. It is true, I am masterful with him in the way he so enjoys. But I handle him with care. He is a rare and precious artefact, I a cataloger of his secrets and admirer of his beauty.
If I am honest, I must also admit that I prefer to spend myself in his arse. To drive into him, to make the great man keen softly like a baby bird as he clings to me. My pleasure does not derive from the physical act of coupling alone. It is also found in witnessing the pleasure of the one I adore. When he reaches his crisis with myself inside him, shuddering and shaking as I spear him, I die a thousand tiny, beautiful deaths. So he holds me ever in his spell, even as he makes himself vulnerable to me so beautifully. I am in all ways in his power, whatever shows of pretty submission he might put on.
Still, from time to time he asks me just the right way, at just the right moment, and I permit Sherlock Holmes to do me the honour of performing fellatio upon me.
He came to me on this occasion upon his knees in a frankly scandalous state of undress. His dressing gown was tied loosely with nothing underneath. No man could resist. The fabric slid down to reveal the glistening curve of a white, bony shoulder. Taut, wiry muscle flexed and flowed as he crawled sinuously towards me. His grey eyes shone in our dimly lit sitting room at Baker Street. I could not tear my eyes from him. When he reached for my trouser front, I found I could deny him nothing.
Holmes is known for his determination to achieve expertise in every field that interests him. I would say that oral acts of love making are a field that interest him greatly. I give him opportunities to practise his art so rarely. He never wastes a chance to refine his technique.
Invariably Holmes’ deductive skills are more than capable of solving the mystery of what pleases me. From the moment his lips were upon me, he put his full formidable energy into bringing me off. It was all I could do to murmur praise for how widely he opened his talented pink mouth, to marvel at the beauty of his long, pale neck as he choked on me deep in his throat. I found myself telling him that he was the most breathtaking creature I had ever seen. That he was a genius, an artist, a man to rival any of the great men of our time. All true statements. He flushed deeply and beautifully, tears and saliva mixing on his face.
In the end, I came apart babbling his praises, spending down his throat, his moans reverberating in tortuous rhythms around my organ. For several long moments, my vision went white.
As I returned to myself, my great fondness for him overtook me powerfully. I raised him up and kissed him on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his eyebrows. I became effusive with the intensity of my love for every tiny part of him. I cleaned his face and told him that he was wickedly talented, astonishingly handsome, and desperately beloved. He stretched like a satisfied cat, and all but licked his paws proudly at having pleased me.
He had certainly pleased me very well, indeed. His mouth was as gifted as the rest of him. With the solemnity I considered the occasion warranted, I thanked him for his ministrations. He refused to take me seriously, going so far as to dissolve into giggles. I was forced to kiss him quite emphatically to make my point clear. I was able to stop him giggling, at any rate.
Holmes nestled against me. He whispered something too quiet for me to make out. I hummed a little, low in my chest, in response. This seemed to satisfy him. My admiration for him beat strong in my breast. I found myself in awe that someone so brilliant and important would spend his time bringing me pleasure.
I resolved to return unto him double what he had given me. It was only fair. I could give as good as I got as far as oral pleasure, and then I would frig him until he wept. I did not often allow Sherlock Holmes to finish me with his mouth, but when receiving such a gift, I was always conscientious about paying him back in full. For now, I rested peacefully in this perfect moment. But soon, that very evening, I would more than return his generous favour.