It’s not the size of you, or even the appearance.

It’s the taste, and the smell and the feel.

It’s how your precum coats my tastebuds like cotton candy or churned butter melting on the tongue. It’s the dizzying smell of sweat and soap and denim, the heady, wild scent of the hair that surrounds the base. It’s the heat that cumulates at the head as the blood in your body rushes to it to meet my mouth. It’s how every ridge, every vein, every little bump pushes passed my lips until you’re fully lodged in my throat. It’s the way your shaft lurches with each suck, each lick, each moan of mine that vibrates it.

And it’s the way all of these elements combined when you finally let go.