Sucking cock with a stuffy nose seems pretty pointless to me.
I mean, when I have Tucker’s cock in my mouth a great deal of our mutual enjoyment is my reaction to the taste and scent of him so close. If I am so stuffy that I can’t breathe through my nose and therefore can’t smell or taste anything I might as well have a banana in my mouth. It just doesn’t do anything for me – other than his enjoyment of the sensation. But I can tell when I am not completely into it he isn’t either. Having a stuffy, snotty girl with her mouth on your cock cannot be the most attractive thing in the world, especially when it is so far from the norm.
In case you can’t tell, I’m sick. My one big cold of the season has taken hold and laid me low for a few days. I don’t really remember much about the first evening I came home from work early and crashed… it is a blur of cold medication, confusing text messages, a very brief and rather surreal visit from my girls, and lots and lots of sleep. I think I ended up staying in bed for about nineteen hours before I came out for food and even then I couldn’t deal with anything more complex than a can of mixed fruit and eventually an english muffin.
Tucker has been taking care of me since yesterday evening – making sure I eat, get plenty of rest, and generally take care of myself. He came over to put me to bed early, went to visit his best friend who lives close by, and came back sometime in the middle of the night and snuggled into bed with me to keep me warm.
“Are you going to be okay with missing the party tomorrow?” he asked as we cuddled on the couch before he left.
“Nooo… I don’t wanna,” I whined. We’d been planning to go to a party hosted by one of my co-workers – my first chance to introduce Tucker to my vanilla friends – and I didn’t want to miss it.
“I know. But if you’re not feeling any better I’m not going to let you leave the house. Have you decided about your appointment?” he asked, referring to my bi-weekly meeting with Gwen.
“No, I think I’m going to see how I feel in the morning. I already told Jennifer I’d call her tomorrow,” I said. My eyes were closed and I was breathing heavily through my mouth as I leaned against his chest.
“You won’t be going anywhere if you’re like this tomorrow,” he said. Even in my exhausted and oblivious state the tone of his voice and absolute possession of my time and agenda made me all warm and fuzzy inside. There was no quibbling about what I might want to do, or who gets to make the decisions, or why going to the party even in less-than-perfect health might be a good idea. He just decided and I acquiesced.
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered and sniffled again.
“Time to get you to bed. Let’s go upstairs,” he said gently.