I am Chakotay’s Saliva

I Am Chakotay’s Saliva
by VoyWriter

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I am warm and wet and sweet and sometimes spicy. I live here in his mouth, play
around his tongue and teeth and tease his palette.

It’s a wonderful existence. I can’t imagine a better place to be. There’s something
especially sensual about this mouth, the soft calm words that I help form and all
the varied tastes and touches here.

Sometimes things here are more mundane, but I look forward to it all. Several
times a day he calls me forth and fills his mouth with flavors that I can bathe and
roll and around in, sharing all the comfort of a meal.

And he let’s me wet his lips throughout the day, a gentle stroke across their
fullness tipped from his taunting tongue. It’s one hell of a great ride across that

At night I sometimes fill him and spill out onto his pillow, slowly trickling from
the corner of his mouth and sliding down his cheek and chin against the stubble
of his beard and texture of his skin. I like to help him sleep, to be a part of it, so
much a part of him.

I have visited other places of him as well. At times he spits of bit of me upon his
hand and rubs me hard and low and long, shivering and shaking with the
excitement of my presence, slick and lubricating. I share in his delight as he
works me against his pulsing length.

However, if I am to be honest, I must say that there is nothing better than when I
find visitors to mix within. There is a tongue soft and warm that brings her own
wetness to his mouth, sweeter than his man’s moisture, mixing and intermingling.
I rise and flow and caress upon the sharing of this touch, flowing out and in until I
am uncertain who I am and who the other is. Oh, the warming ecstasy and haven I
can find within the other’s mouth and pressed around a familiar stranger’s tongue.

And from that, one even richer moment when I slide along his tongue and find a
center quivering core to lave and love and bring to shaking shudders. That taste
explodes me full within his mouth and I sag against the curving edges, panting,
gasping for my own breath as passion calls me home.


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