“That new oatmilk I bought is terrible,” my spouse said.
“Why? What’s wrong with it?” I asked. “I had some–I thought it was fine oatmilk!”
“It’s way too thick and chunky.”
“Oh! I like it! I guess…because I’m used to swallowing thick and chunky fluids!”
We laughed. We were in the bedroom, and he was almost naked. He made a gesture of pulling down this chonies so I could have a drink of his thick fluid.
“I need to make room for my balls,” he said. We were lying in bed, and he was naked. He spread his legs.
“Because they are so big?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“So the fan can blow on them? A blow job from the fan…” I said.
“I love it,” he said.
“Ah, I’m jealous!” I said. We were smiling. “I’m your biggest fan!”
“I like your blow jobs the best,” he said.
“Aw,” I said, and cuddled him closer. “I’m happy. Maybe you need a wheelbarrow to carry your balls.”
I imagined his balls large in a wheelbarrow, so he could heft them through a garden. “Ballbarrow.”
“Ballbarrow,” he said.
“Wheelballbarrow.” I like barrows.
having a ball
“I wish you would grab my balls and squeeze them. And pull on them,” he said.
“Wow, ok,” I said. “I thought that would hurt.”
“It would feel wonderful,” he said.
“Oh, ok.” I pondered balls, pain, desire. “Can you do it, to show me?”
He reached down past his dick, which was a big erection at that time, and found his balls. He squeezed and pulled on them.
“Wow!” I marveled. “Wow, that feels good?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
I gave it a try. He was very happy with that. I was cautious, still afraid of hurting him. No part of me wants to be treated like that!
Probably you can guess what happened next. There was a moment of celebrating the balls. Then we moved on to his dick. Soon I was swallowing a fluid which was not oatmilk.
I remember many years ago, when we were young. We were standing in a garden; I was singing the praises of his dick.
“I’m glad I didn’t get rid of that thing, sometime along the way,” he said.
I must admit the thought was horrifying. But I would love him any gender and any parts. Praise Mother God I’m a bi-pan-fluid oxytocin slut. My feelings change over the years, but my love is trustworthy.