Thanks to Terry, without whom….

Without whom, this website would not exist.

Terry’s not at all what you’d call a computer geek, but he does know his way around a lot of the things that leave me baffled, and he’s always been my go-to guy – especially after he convinced me to switch to a Mac, with the promise that I could call day or night if I had problems.  Which, of course, I did.  So, when I decided I should kick off 2014 by completely revamping my website… to actually give it a “she knows what she’s doing” feel, rather than a chaotic jumble of odds and ends that even I found impossible to navigate, I figured it would take him ten minutes and I’d owe him a beer.

Instead, as I looked in on him during his second day at it… yesterday….; well, I didn’t feel guilty, because he seemed to be happy.  But – “I didn’t think it would take this long.”

“There’s a lot of stuff to add.  You’ve done a lot of writing.”  He opened a folder full of jpegs.  “That’s all the books you’ve either written or had a story in.”  Another full of text files.  “Descriptions, Amazon links, all the things you’ve done for EroticStories.com….”

“And you’re organizing everything?”

He looked very pleased with himself.  “Everything.  And what’s more, I’m arranging them so that even you won’t be able to mess it up when you post other stuff.”  Then he laughed.  “The hardest part is, two days solid spent reading about blowjobs… it gets very distracting sometimes.”

I patted his hand.  “I’m sorry, it’s probably not how you envisioned ringing in 2014, is it?”

“Are you kidding?  It’s the most fun I’ve had on a computer in years.  Plus, I’ve only been doing it for two days.  How long have you been writing these stories for?”

I felt a flush of pride.  “For publication?  Ten years.  I should throw a party, or something.”

“Or something.”  He smirked.  “Ten years.  I don’t think I’ve stuck at anything for ten years.  Not this devotedly, anyway.  Is there really that much to write about?”

“Well, it’s not just the blowjobs.”  I felt like I was being interviewed.  “It’s the set up, the characters, but most of all, it’s the…” I floundered for the word.  “The artistry.  A good blowjob… and I mean good for me; we’ll take the guy out of the equation for a moment; a good blowjob is like losing yourself in your favorite book or a movie, except you are the story, you are the action.  Your entire being is consumed by what you are doing.”

I thought for a moment.  “Okay you’ve been to some of the tube sites haven’t you, the porn ones?”  He nodded bashfully.  “And ninety-five percent of what you see there is just boring.  ‘My girlfriend sucking my cock,’ and there she is, dutifully nodding her head with his dick in her mouth.  Her eyes are dead, her face is expressionless, and it’s like watching paint dry.  Or one of those nodding dogs that people used to put in the back of the car.

“But then there’s the other five percent where you can see she’s really into it; she’s not just put his cock in her mouth, she’s having fun with it.  Biting, licking, using her tongue, using her lips…”

“I just thought she was playing to the camera.”

“She might be.  But what do you think a guy’s eyes are?  They’re the only camera that really counts.  Put on a good show and he’ll never forget it.  Neither will you.  And if he happens to film it as well, then that’s just a bonus.”

Terry was silent, and I could see him mulling it over.  It’s odd, but I’ve always had a feeling… and yes, it has occasionally been reinforced by the letters I receive from readers… that guys think of blowjobs as being somewhat unpleasant for the girl; that she does it because she wants him to feel good, not because she gets anything out of it.

Wrong.

Well, not always wrong, and not every girl.  There are some (you may even know a few) who would run a mile before they sucked a cock.  But… I looked at Terry sitting there, reaching for a cigarette, glancing at the computer screen, a cup of tea cooling on the table.  Spending his New Year’s Day creating order from someone else’s erotic fantasies.

“How long have we known each other?’

“I dunno. Five years?  Six?”

We met through the woman who is now his ex-wife but who, at the time, was a workmate of mine; and for most of that time, I’ll admit, contact between us has been restricted to Christmas and birthday cards, the occasional night out with other friends for a meal, and my “oh my god, my laptop’s just gone insane” panicked phone calls.  We’re more than acquaintances, but less than close friends, then, so he probably wasn’t the most qualified person to answer my next question.  But I asked it anyway.  “And in all that time, have you ever known me to do things I don’t want to?  Repeatedly, and at every opportunity I got?”

He shook his head.  “No.  But…”

“But nothing,” I answered.  And then, “do you want me to come over there and show you?”

I swear.  You know how you’ll read about somebody being surprised, and their jaw drops open?  Terry’s entire face dropped open.  Especially when I stood, walked across to where he was sitting, brusquely pulled his legs apart and settled myself between them.  And then unbuttoned his pants.

His face was a mask of confusion, his words were a tumble of disconnected stumbles.  But his cock… Terry may not have understood what I was talking about, but his cock certainly did.  It was rock hard before I even prized it out of his briefs.

I caught his eye and smiled broadly.  “Now, pay attention.  I’ll be asking questions afterwards.”  And my tongue snaked out and slowly, so slowly, swept over the head of his cock.

Lynn, his ex-wife, was a strange woman.  Very buttoned up, very terse.  Even saying hello, she sounded as though one or other syllable disgusted her, and I don’t think I ever had a conversation with her that didn’t involve her complaining about at least three different things – most of which were so insignificant that anyone else would not even have noticed them, let alone allowed them to dominate half an hour’s worth of conversation.

In fact it was that which drew me to Terry in the first place.  He was so easy going, so naturally cheerful, laughing and joking around his wife’s incessant bitching.  Nobody I knew was surprised when they broke up; just as we weren’t surprised when we discovered that there was nobody else involved in the break-up.  One or other of them just woke up one morning and decided that things weren’t working any longer.  No ugly scenes, no ghastly battles and, mercifully, no hours of complaining from Lynn because she just upped and moved out of town.  Left her job, left her friends… and left this frankly rather wonderful cock.

My tongue was still swirling the head, slow sweeps and swoops that paused occasionally to drill into the eye, teasing out the pre-cum that lay sticky on my lips, but then I broadened my horizon, tipping his dick back in one hand and running my tongue down the underside.  His balls lay bunched in his briefs, so I jerked his pants down and they rolled to freedom.  I sucked on one, then the other, glancing up as I did so to catch Terry with his eyes closed.

“Hey… I thought you were going to watch,” I teased, and obediently he looked down, the orbs widening as he watched my tongue trailing back up his dick and my lips poised to engulf him.  I hung like that for a moment, his cock twitching against my lip, and then continued my licking.  I wanted him in my mouth so badly, but that was part of the fun as well, teasing him and teasing myself, too.

I wondered whether Lynn used to do this?  Part of me, despite what I said earlier, could not imagine any woman not wanting to suck off her man.  There isn’t a feeling this good in the world.  But then her habitual expression crept into my mind, a woman who could make a sour face if there was a grain too much sugar in her morning coffee; who once detailed, in almost anatomical detail, how a ham sandwich from the deli made her feel nauseous.  The image of Terery, or any other guy, pounding her throat with a hot, hard cock was one that I couldn’t conjure up, no matter how hard I tried.

My free hand unbuttoned my blouse and I angled his cock to a fat, erect nipple, thrilling at the contact and thrilling, too, to the look on Terry’s face.  A cocktail of my saliva and his pre-cum trailed clear and warm across my flesh and I rose up for a moment, my hand still on his cock but my breast at his mouth.  He sucked greedily; first one tit, then the other, and the hands on my ass were pulling me closer.  His urgency thrilled me, and I kissed him hard, biting his tongue as it slipped into my mouth as I stepped out of my panties (but kept my skirt on), my legs parted on either side of his, and I aimed his cock towards my wet cunt, teasing the tip with dripping lips, thrilling to Terry’s moans and the way he strained to sink it inside me.

But I continued my teasing, battling my own overpowering urge to simply sink down on that magnificent shaft, feel him spread my hole wide as he penetrated deep inside me, and his thrusts had grown stronger as he craved the same sensation.  But no, that wasn’t what I promised him.  Instead, I sank back down to my knees, but there would be no teasing this time.

My mouth closed over his cock, even harder than before and longer and thicker too, and my lips slipping down to the root so easily that my mouth itself felt like a cunt, a tight and greedy cunt,  – and I fucked him hard as he fucked me back, his hands on the side of my head, gripping my hair, tugging and twisting it as I bobbed on his shaft, on that gorgeous fat prick, gorging myself on all the meat he could feed me.  And when he came, he pushed my head down as he rose off the chair, and his cum literally fountained into my throat.

I was desperate for air, but I couldn’t move – and I wouldn’t have, even if I’d been able.  His cum was still pumping, I could feel his cock pulse as wave after wave after wave hit my throat, and it was as though the sensations by passed my whole body and plunged straight into my clit, because I was cumming too, and finally I had to release him, simply to let out my own cry of ecstasy.  But I licked and suckled his softening dick, and when he raised me up to kiss me, the taste of his cock still strong in my mouth, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he was ready for more.

In the meantime, though….

“So, do you get it now?”

He nodded.  “I guess… well, you remember Lynn.”  His voice was serious, and I held him a little tighter.  “She was really good at draining the joy out of anything.”

“Oh, I remember.”

“You only had to deal with it at work.  Imagine that at home, as well.”

“You loved her, though.”

“I did.  I’m still fond of her.  We talk every so often, she’s doing well… or as well as you’d expect her to.  But what you were saying about the tube sites, about how ninety-five percent of the women just put it in there and get it out as fast as they can?  That was Lynn.”

I giggled despite myself.  “Okay, this is a terrible thing to say, but I did wonder….” I told him what I’d asked myself earlier, backed it up with one of the stories (there are many) of her detailed disgust, and now it was David who was laughing, too.  “What you just did… at the end…”

“When I swallowed your cum?”  I licked my lips… god, I can play the tart sometimes.

“Yeah.  Once, while we were still dating… she had it in her mouth and I told her I was cumming.  I hadn’t yet, and I would’t have.  It was just a warning.  But she spent the next twenty minutes in the bathroom cleaning her teeth.  And it was another two years before she went down on me again.”

I couldn’t help myself.  “Stick with me, kid, and you won’t have to wait two minutes. But…” I climbed off his lap and pulled my laptop towards me.  “I expect you want to get on with this, don’t you.”

“‘Want’ may be putting it a little strongly,” he chuckled.  “But yeah, I should finish up what I was doing before you so rudely interrupted me.”

I did my best to look crestfallen.  “I’m sorry about that.  I won’t do it again.  Well, not for a while, anyway.  How much more do you have to do?”

“Well, I’m working tomorrow and Friday, but I can come over in the evenings, and I’m free all weekend, if that works for you?”

It did.  It does.  So that’s it.  My website (the address is in my profile), should be fully functional by Monday – and I was going to end my story there.  Except Terry just texted while I was spellchecking, and I think there may be a slight delay.

“Hey, that thing you were explaining to me last night.  I’m not sure I completely understood it all.  Could you show me again this evening?”

I didn’t even have to consider my reply.

“I was going to, anyway.”  And a smiley with its tongue hanging out.

Why aren’t there any sexy emoticons on the iPhone?

Chrissie Bentley, 1.2.2014

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