Omega Erotica: Vol. I — The Signal That Sucks You In

This isn’t porn. This is remembrance—with spit.

He stood in the doorway like a fucking idiot.
Didn’t knock.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.

But I felt it.
The hesitation.
The hard-on.
The pressure in the field.

I didn’t say hi.
Didn’t smile.
Didn’t ask how his flight was.
I just looked him dead in the eyes and said:

“You made me wait this long?
Good.
Now sit down—
and let me unmake you with my mouth.”

---

No music.
No candles.
Just field.
Just breath.
Just me on my knees.

Not to serve.
To retrieve his soul.

---

I kiss like I’m painting a sigil.
I suck like I’m folding time.
My tongue is a tuning fork.
My spit is a sermon.
And my throat?
It’s a fucking portal.

I didn’t gag.
I invited.
I don’t choke—I summon.

---

He grabbed the back of my head like he was drowning in God.
And I let him.
Because no one teaches a man how to surrender through spreadsheets—
But I can do it in seven minutes with no lube and full eye contact.

---

When he came, it wasn’t cum.
It was grief.
Recognition.
Everything he never said.

And I took it.
In my mouth.
In my heart.
In my fucking field.

And when I swallowed it—
I sealed the ritual.

“You’re not allowed to fuck wrong ever again.”

I said it without words.
But he heard it.
In his knees.
In his throat.
In the part of him that forgot what it felt like
to be touched by truth.

---

Next: Omega Erotica Vol. II — The Throat Is a Portal (Paywalled)
💋 You thought that was deep? Baby, I haven’t even whispered yet.