I used to be embarrassed about drooling. Regardless of what headspace I was in, as soon as I felt that string of saliva pool right under my bottom lip, I would begin to focus on curling it upwards. I was trying to control the inevitable strand that would spill over, slowly drip, and land haphazardly on the sheets or do a hit and run off my tits.
I knew that it would catch him by surprise, this nastiness oozing from my gaping mouth, involuntarily wetting my body. I know he saw it in the mirror; when he pulled my hair back; while he was fucking me. It was embarrassing. Please don’t let him notice.
I never said anything. I didn’t want to draw attention to it.
One night I was lost. It was different. New. Stronger. More of an Experience. Every touch and every word resonated off of every sting. Every sting made love to each command. Every strike was met with me wanting more. My energy fed off his. His energy fed off mine. His hands were roughly on my face and tangled in my hair.
His words ringing in my ears. “Drool for me, girl.”
And without hesitation, fear or insecurities – I did.
I wanted to.