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Dreams are necessary to life. Anais Nin
It was never meant to be that big a deal. What I wanted was really the simplest thing. What I wanted was affection, and of course, anal sex.
But that’s not where it had all gone. Instead, sitting topless before a complete stranger, nervous beyond belief, alone in a strange city, upstairs in a strange house, and so close to a strange cock I could smell the pungent aroma of sperm, I looked up at him and thought, something isn’t right. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.
It started only minutes after I bared my breasts to him, and he now seemed to want – no, expect – something else; to be sucked off. And it wasn’t that I was unwilling, it’s that I didn’t want to do it…just yet, you know, not straight away. Why couldn’t he see that?
The answer seemed obvious enough; he had become preoccupied. So, with him “resting” his hands a little too assertively on my narrow shoulders, I found myself hoping that if I had to do this now; if he had to have his precious blowjob, that he would at least power his way past my lips and down my throat.
A man showing resolve in bed, even though we weren’t exactly “in bed,” was something I liked – no, craved – and I would at least have respected him for taking me by the hair and giving it to me in the mouth, hard.
But instead, he did exactly what I didn’t want him to do. He just stood there, his pants down around his knees, smiling at me as if to say, “You’ve nowhere to hide now, so do it.”
That unspoken yet deafening ultimatum disappointed…no, it annoyed and baffled me as I didn’t know what to do with it and found myself torn between two desires; one, to have my own way with things and the other, to be led about – no, driven – by this stranger.
Dropping my eyes, I took a breath. His cock was hard. Was that a good thing or not? I couldn’t decide, but I had been expecting something flaccid, something soft and friendly that I could take in my mouth and, well, acquaint myself with before it started threatening to spill its fluids down my virgin throat.
But there was nothing friendly about the purplish thing bobbing merrily in front of my dry lips, least of all that pesky slit at the tip; something Anya tagged a man’s “little eye.” I saw now what she meant – it did everything but wink at me!
And there was a tiny but noticeable drop of ooze…sitting right there; in front of my nose, so I knew his testicles were up to something whose end product, I supposed, women were required, by some unwritten rule, to suffer happily.
Ever-so-slightly, he increased the pressure of his hands on me and in desperation, I fantasized that he owed me one wish, like Geppetto wishing on a star in the tale of Pinocchio and if I’d had the courage, I would look up at him and say: “Would you mind very much if I texted my girlfriend? I’ve got my phone right here and it won’t take a minute!”
Yes, if I had my star just then, I’d have wished I had told my Anya when I had the chance. She would instantly know what I should do. But then, that was exactly why I hadn’t told her. Because I knew what she would say, and it wouldn’t be to remain here nursing this strange cock.
She’d tell me, no doubt, to gather my things and run like hell. But it was too late and it was hopeless now…not even my darling friend could get me out of this one.
Making one last attempt to extricate myself gracefully, I gazed up pleadingly into his eyes. “I’ve…never, you know, done this before,” I whispered.
His smile was equal parts sympathy and kartal escort bayan amusement. “That’s all right, love,” he said, one hand moving to the back of my head.
Upon reflection, the comment was laughable; so stereotypically inexperienced female. Don’t all girls default to that one with all guys, all first times? I wondered. But the thing was, it was completely true and he knew it was completely true.
But he wasn’t in the least interested in truth. We had searched for and collided with one another in this bizarre cyberspace – whatever it was – which had brought me to a place where frankly, truth was the last thing a man cared about.
No, I had to get real. He wanted his blowjob and I was here to fulfill whatever it is that makes cocks delight in being sucked by women.
I marveled that it had taken me this long to realize I wasn’t holding any cards. In fact, I hadn’t held any since meeting him at the restaurant, since he had helped me slip my coat on and smiled at my simple-minded answer to his central question: “So, do you want to go to my place?”
“Yes,” I’d said. The rest was implicit: Yes, I want to go to your place. Yes, I want to fuck. That had done it. From then on, he owned me.
Deep down, and despite the imbecility of what I had gotten myself into, I understood perfectly now, the folly of browsing for a stranger, of selecting a stranger, of meeting a stranger, of going to a stranger’s house, of allowing a stranger to suck my tits for God-knows-how-long, of kissing a stranger deeply – and for me, rather affectionately even – of letting a stranger strip away one defensive shield after another, all the while knowing that following that stranger up the stairs to his bedroom would bring me nothing but trouble.
Despite all of it, I had still stood on ceremony even as I followed him to the bedroom like some Japanese bride, thinking, isn’t a gentleman supposed to let a lady go up the stairs first? In case she falls? But Anya was so right; sex is about power and it was only now, with a stranger’s drooling cock moments away from savaging my lips that I really got it, that I had nothing else left.
I felt so naïve. It had never really occurred to me that my perceptions of sex might not in fact be anywhere near its reality, yet here I was, facing exactly that, sexual reality, and in this instance, the cock jutting into my face simply stated: “Suck now!”
The shift in power, something I had felt straightaway when I agreed to leave the Founder’s Arms Restaurant with him, had done it. At that instant, I gave up everything.
Back there, a telling sort of smile had appeared on his face and the deferential treatment he’d lavished on me during the previous hour, pulling out my chair and ordering wine to my liking, all during our “get to know you drink,” had all but melted into the winter chill.
At the heart of the issue was something simple enough but due to my inexperience, not to mention a tendency to chance a little more trust than I should, I’d made a mistake – one he had instantly picked up on.
He knew I wanted sex more than I wanted to be treated as a human being, let alone an equal, which put me in the position of bartering my body on the cheap. I’d always hated hearing stories of other girls who did that but here I was.
Why, I found myself wondering, did women…no, why did I, not approach sex more practically? Why didn’t I use it as the currency it truly was, trading it in dribs and drabs as I wanted this or that? Why was I giving myself away for free? Anya escort maltepe would be furious with me when she found out, and rightfully so.
Anyway, by now things were past the questioning stage and I had to make this decision, which hadn’t really shaped up as much of a decision since his hands were still “resting” on me, his erection now, just under my nose. The not-so-subtle whiff of cum was overpowering the rapidly diminishing neutral zone separating our bodies, and I could already taste him and hated it.
I eventually collected enough fortitude to look up into his encroaching eyes a final time and silently pleading my case to go even more slowly, I found that smile had re-appeared, the one remindful of the restaurant, still making the exact same statement as before.
So I decided on bravery: “Taryn!” I dolefully shouted to myself. “Here’s your chance! You’ve never sucked a cock before so what are you waiting for? Do it proudly or walk out of here with your tail between your legs, but for God’s sake, make a fucking decision!”
“Tell me about your gag reflex, Taryn,” Anya had said without so much as taking her eyes away fromOas her tormentors set upon her with a white hot branding iron.Oscreamed in agony as her exquisite skin sizzled.
“Anya Tatiana Vyrubova! You know perfectly well I’ve never blown anyone!” I said indignantly. “So why are you asking me that?”
“Because I’m teasing you.”
“Shit. I hate when you do that.”
O’sscreams had barely subsided when Anya sedately added, “Listen darling, they sell those long cucumbers,burplessthey call them. I saw them only yesterday at Borough Market.” There was a curious lack of emotion in her voice. “Suck one into your mouth so you can find your level of tolerance. What I’m saying is, know your choke-point. You have to.”
“I will choke Anya,” I mumbled. “I’m not good about having things put in my mouth that don’t belong there; especially if they spurt.”
“Taryn, do it anyway!” she insisted. “In any case, cucumbers don’t spurt and the middle of a blowjob is no time for experimenting.”
That was two weeks ago and I never stopped at the market.
Firmly encircling his shaft with my fingers, I opened my mouth and felt the head of his cock bump the back of my throat as I swallowed him. Shit.
Finally, his dick had fit itself in my mouth, and a sticky muskiness lent itself to a complicated oral mix consisting of runny bodily fluids; his, mine, and God knew who else’s. Instinct told me to obliterate it, and I tactfully tried spilling him away. But with my mouth stuffed as it was, my only option was the one I didn’t want – I had to swallow.
Such a predicament, I thought, having to consume something in order to get rid of it. Seeing no other way and granting he’d take exceeding pleasure in it, I half-heartedly gulped.
Of course it accomplished nothing as it only made room for the next draught. My senses absorbed its fragrance which, in a rush, transformed into a clinging tang as his manhood eased itself more deeply into my throat. Fuck!
I hesitated, exactly as Anya predicted. I was embarrassed, just as she predicted. And he felt it, exactly as she predicted.
Damn, I thought, I should have listened to her, but there was no way to escape, as cum has to go in either one direction or the other and to make matters worse, I could feel him watching; enjoying the show, I supposed, as my eyes teared and I imagined how silly I looked with two very black and simultaneous trickles of mascara, running down my pendik escort cheeks.
I suddenly pictured rocker Alice Cooper, complete with freakish war-paint. Cooper’s face was put there for effect and as my throat once more constricted in an attempt to fend off the unwished-for invader, I hunched my audience of one was enjoying my own particular brand of war-paint.
He was manipulating the shit out of me and I, like some carnival show-horse, was running in circles for his amusement. I wondered how many women he did the same to; how many other mouths his cock had probed – this week, even – as he lined up victims like so many bowling pins on Cravingyou.com. Fuck times two. I really wanted him out of my throat.
I thought back to Cravingyou as he took control of things, sliding his erection in and out of my mouth. Now, with my palms resting on his thighs, my mind was freer to range about, to speculate on what he must have thought when he found my page. I wondered how many sites he might be into and concluded he could be browsing a dozen as he sought the perfect sex partner to do his bidding; a role I obviously wasn’t fulfilling very well.
My thoughts returned to downstairs and how much I had enjoyed kissing – not kissing him, just kissing, an affectionate process I think too many men lost track of eons ago. I wanted to go back down there to re-sample the relative safety of that sensual fruit.
Interestingly, a little while earlier he admitted as much, as we lay in one another’s arms on his bed. He’d said that what we had downstairs had been “very nice indeed” and though he could have kissed me “all day”, he of course hadn’t. Too bad; it would have been a good investment.
But he was free now to say such a thing, as we weren’t downstairs anymore, indulging my girlishness. We were upstairs, a place where only my garter belt, sheer stockings and black strappy heels still survived.
I had looked the part all right, the one I had carefully choreographed; all in black, my contrasting white scarf and wintry gloves having been carefully closeted after we entered the house.
Yes, it had been a safe thing to say, at least by then, because the risk of not getting me up those stairs to his bedroom had long passed and I sat there obediently, my clothing strewn about the room and half my mind focused on cock while the other half wandered, poking into cerebral corners, the only places I ever truly felt safe.
Whoever he was, he was well-practiced. I could tell because he slipped his cock in and out of my mouth with cautious precision, at first, anyway. But the façade was quickly falling away as his pace increased and my lips detected greater urgency in his movements.
The initial minutes spent blowing him seemed like hours and even though this was my first time, I could sense his emotional frustration as it coursed through his erection, draining from his body to mine.
It was a little frightening and was something, the pace that is, that Anya had spot lit for me. “You’ll sense him building Taryn; your mouth will feel him as he readies to come and then, spurt, spurt!” She tended to bluntness.
Spurt!The thought’s suddenness jolted me back to reality. Holy shit, I had to stop him!
Digging my nails into his thighs, I forced him away and he popped out of my mouth as saliva and semen – or what passed as semen before a guy actually comes – gushed away, cascading down onto my heretofore virtuous chin. I looked up again as I wiped it with the back of my hand, hoping he wasn’t pissed off.
Instead, through heavy breathing, I got what sounded like a compliment. “You sure you haven’t done that before?” he asked, a little too flippantly.
I smiled meekly but didn’t say anything. It was nearly time to fuck.
End Story 5 – Sucking
>>>To be continued…
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