Backstory: I am married and have a daughter. My wife thinks I have issues about gay men (like I am a bigot due to a few well-placed jokes). In reality I live the dual life, completely enjoying sex with my wife, and secretly getting off deeply on sex with my male lover M once a month or two. I have no problem secretly admitting how much I enjoy gay porn, having cum too much to deny it. I enjoy long stretches of time thinking about sex with M, hardon in hand. While the fantasies are idealized, M is very good.
She won't lift my arm up, expose my pit, and take a deep, long lick of my arm pit like you do. You know what? Smelling my own pits now gets my cock to throb. My balls start jumping in their sack, excited. You've taught me that in my pleasant decent into the pleasures of sex only two men can have together. You lick my pit again, burying your head into my pit. Taste the strong flavor of a man. I only wash with water now so you get my pure scent. I do that for you. You dive in a third time, and our bodies mingle in the moment, both strong and sensitive. I feel exposed and wet and sexy and then you kiss me so we share my sharpest taste. She would never taste me and share my taste like you do, our cocks rubbing casually, but there really is nothing casual given all the heavy breathing. I need to taste you, the wide lick starting at mid rib then getting to the place where all the flavors of you shout. I can't believe I feel this now at the base of my balls, that primitive twitch that says man sex is happening. The taste, I need more of it, more of you, the strong taste of a man. I break to kiss you on the lips, to say, no, this is more than man sex, this is making love, sharing the strongest tastes of the male form and loving it. There are those small, silent flashes, where my mind races, and says, shit, we are too horny men, naked, making out, and I want you to fuck me. None of that is said, it is all part of the intent of the kisses read easily.
She won't play with nipples, but you do. You bite me gently, and you bit me hard, pushing me to an edge because edges are interesting. I will be able to feel your bite in two days time, a private twinge. I have never confessed how much I like seeing you there, licking and biting my nipple as my hands go through your hair. It is one of many moments of intimacy, where I smile and cringe at the same time, knowing that my hole will accept you at anytime even if we don't. I pinch your nipples even harder than you bit mine. I know you love that, the way your nipples become the center of the physical universe, separate from all else, that sharp feeling as I bear down with my teeth, scared I might be biting too hard, but I keep biting down, let go, lick it lightly, bit again. I cannot know what it is like for you, my bites and tuggs on your nipple. I imagine in fills you you a sharp feeling of being alive and sexual, and when I release, you reconnect with all the sounds, smells, and feelings of two men having manly sex.
In a brief moment of relaxation, we press against each other with a wet sloppy kiss, hands still working each others nipples, knowing she won't lick my pits or tits, but you will.