I wonder if some men notice, though I am sure that most don’t. Some may even notice the flush rising on my cheeks and they smile, which makes it worse. I squeeze my legs together under my desk or while I sit in the car and try not to think about it but I can’t help it and I think about their cocks and their cum and it just gets worse.
I didn’t use to be like this. I don’t know what happened. It just started. I didn’t notice at first or maybe thought it was nothing. But it didn’t go away. Now it won’t go away. I can’t make it go away. I can’t help myself when I start thinking about cocks. A man talks to me and I can’t look him in the eye. I bit my lip, I nod, I wonder if he’d make me gag if I sunk to my knees in front of him right there. It’s not my fault I think like this.
I'm even doing it now. I didn’t even notice. I've pictured the last man I spoke to – I might not even like him, doesn’t matter, can’t help it – and I've pictured his cock. I've pictured myself kneeling down in front of him, looking up. My eyes were so big looking up at him. Licking my lips. I lick my lips a lot. I always do now.
I picture him taking it out. I gasp softy involuntarily and I start to drool. It’s like my mouth knows that it needs his cock. A warm, wet hole for him to slide into. A perfect fit.
Where would he cum? Where would he want to cum on me? Down my throat, into my belly? Onto my sissy tits? Some men like that. Over my face? Marking you? To see what you’d look like covered in his cum? I don’t know.
But I can’t stop thinking about it anyway.
It’s not my fault. I just can’t help it.
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