She felt the tap on her cheek. A hand tapped it again. When her eyes fluttered open, the hand became a beckoning wave. She took a deep breath and let it out. The hand was gone. But she knew what she was to do. She got out of bed and followed the hand.
Standing in the room, he looked at the 42-year-old brunette. He approved of her nudity, admired the shape of her figure. When she bent down to set her panties and nightgown on the bed, he admired the roundness of her ass. "The Nectar Ritual," was all he said to her. He watched her tits jiggle as she knelt before him.
He called it the Nectar Ritual. But she always thought of it as the Blowjob Ritual. But never aloud, he would not approve of that. She had checked him. There was no large tent in his boxers. She would first have to get him hard. She pulled his boxers down to his knees. Holding his phallus in one hand, she pet it with the other. She always pets it in one direction, from the base to the head, as he had instructed her so often. At first, it just lay in her hand. Then it began to lengthen, to stiffen. When it rose from her hand on its own, she held it in her hands.
As was required by him, she held her hands open. The palms were together as if praying. Between her hands was his phallus. She held it as tightly as she could. That was the way he wanted it. She could feel blood pulsating in it. "I love you," she said, not to him but to his phallus. Then she kissed the tip of him.
"I worship you," she said with another kiss. "You are my master," another kiss. "I am your slave," a kiss. "Please give me your nectar," she said, continuing to address only his phallus. "It is what my body craves." On the sixth kiss, she took him into her mouth.
Her lips pressed against her thumbs, she only had about two inches in her mouth. She could have taken in more of him, but she wasn't to move her hands. She held her mouth still and started to tongue him. That was how he had told her to do it.
