A Dream

Kneeling before Johnny, I let the warm, dark vowel sound, "ah," escape my lips. A wave of nostalgia washed over me, and I was in the quiet intensity of the junior high choir room, where I first learned to shape my voice with precision. I could almost feel the echo of my choir director's guidance, reminding me to part my lips just so, and drop my tongue as if yawning to create the perfect cavern within my mouth for the sound to resonate, pure and unblemished.
 
Johnny was watching me, his eyes reflecting a cocktail of memories and desires. When he smiled, it was as if he recognized the discipline behind the sound of my voice. He seemed to acknowledge the countless hours of practice that had led to this moment of effortless beauty.  
 
As my eyes lingered on his smile, I felt an electric jolt travel from my chest to my pelvic mound where it danced lightly before fading. My body responded with a deep sense of longing. I reached for Johnny, inviting him closer, and as he moved closer, I felt his warmth at the edge of my mouth. The crystal clarity of my tone was replaced by something far more intimate—a softness, a vulnerability, a giving of myself that was as natural and as instinctive as a mother's kiss. I drew his cock into my mouth and held him there, looking up with eyes wide open and waiting in silence.  
 
The resonance of my voice was replaced by two heartbeats. One was mine throbbing loudly in my blushing ears. The other echoed from Johnny’s chest.  In that moment and those that followed, I knew that the discipline I'd mastered in song was but a prelude to the unvarnished surrender I was about to experience.