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More of the his story with Ann…


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I was young, Ann was a woman, and as she had told me that first night, volunteered it in fact, she would do whatever I asked, anything at all. I gathered my courage to ask her to take me in her mouth, and again, a second time while she was on her floor, she told me she would always do anything I asked. I came in her mouth a second time.

I discovered I had a weakness for fellatio. Must be genetic. Most men suffer from this kind of insufficiency, that’s what women say. And she kept her word. I mean she really kept her word. Whenever I asked, even after we broke up.

Now serious again, why? Why did she continue supplying her sexual favors even after we were quits? First, we’d have to ask her, but my guess, she was a hurting human being, completely out of touch with real feelings, with love. Yes, she was connected to her sexual feelings just fine.

And she encouraged me to be selfish, to be bad that way. And I’m a pretty fast learner. I’d come to see her, say hello, we’d get on her couch, it was almost a bed, soft, really comfortable, we’d kiss for a few minutes, either she’d get on the floor, elbows on the couch, I’d stop and stand up to take down my pants, or we’d get up and walk into her bedroom. But she knew where she was going to end up when she opened the door, she knew what I wanted, so their was no real conversation, only hello, how are you, that kind of conversation.

She taught me I could enjoy fellatio. And I did. A couple of times on campus but mostly in her bedroom again and again.

Ann wanted to talk. Not talk instead of satisfying me. She wanted to discuss sexual politics, and who knows, maybe she was right, except I didn’t want to talk, not just then. I wanted to come in her mouth. This is the woman who taught me how to face fuck, so no, I didn’t exactly want to talk.

And so without asking permission, she’d follow me, we’d both disrobe. Unless I was staying, Ann only took off her top. Blouse, bra, almost always. I don’t remember her doing anything else. If I had asked she would have, and she was sexy, incredibly so, just as she was, even as old as she was. No doubt that was the drugs she took, some really bad stuff. From a pharmacy. All legal. Prescription. Possibly she needed them too, I don’t know.

I’d drop my jeans, pull down my underwear, and sit on a couple of towels Ann provided, then she would kneel down. Usually I held on to her head. Sometimes I’d hold her shoulders or back, or her breasts. At first I tried to be courteous, to not to go too fast, that didn’t last long. She had taught me how to “face-fuck” her.

She had said she was concerned that I was lonely. I was. And when we met, yes, I was backward. True enough. She was good at this except, apparently, she thought she was a coed. She wasn’t. She was smart, yes. She was graduating, yes. She was a lot of things but she wasn’t an ingénue. She just wasn’t Besides, how many ingenue’s teach their date about face fucking?

She was near graduation from business school, she was already working, negotiating labor contracts for various unions. The thing is, did she actually need that business degree? Yes, she was an excellent negotiator. She took all those courses, but did she need those courses? I don’t know. I do know she never negotiated with me, not in bed, not that I can recall, maybe it was part of her plan, to always be swallowing my ejaculate, otherwise I don’t know. Maybe that was her plan. She liked me, I assume she valued my youth, my inexperience.

But whenever I asked, literally whenever, wherever, she gave great head. I was 23, a college kid. She was about 35, maybe 38, and she gave me great head. At school she pretended, maybe even believed herself, to be this great woman, this intellectual lady focused on power for women, on women’s rights. Well okay, but she swallowed pretty good too. And that’s what I liked about her.

In any case I didn’t understand sexual politics then, and I’m still not sure I do now. I’m not sure any man does. So I let her have her career, I went to, I think, two lectures. Lectures on union leadership. Well attended lectures. Except, ah, she was pretty close to being a mobster. No, she didn’t carry a gun, not that kind of mobster. But, ah, out of bed she wasn’t that submissive. To me, for me? Yes. But not to small business owner’s with union workers.

She had small breasts. Sometimes I would hold her head, sometimes her back and chest, giving slow gentle clues congruent to my pumping. Other times I would just hold on to her breasts and she gave me a great deal of pleasure.

I was young. Some nights, while I was officially dating her, we broke up but I liked her taking me in her mouth so I continued to come by for that, because I would be staying the night I’d be naked. I’d sit on the side of her bed, with some towels, and she would wear a negligee she liked. I would peel it back so I could cup her breasts in my hands and we would do our back and forths. I was young. Some nights we did this for hours, of course with me resting mostly, and while she waited for me to recharge she’d turn around, facing the TV. At these times she would rest her head against my ball sack, but I never worried about the effect this might have on the European Common market’s recent crisis. She was careful, so was I. In bed she was a pussy. Yes, out of bed she was a hungry tiger, but in bed she was a pussy. So I was safe.

She had a remote, they weren’t so common then, but she had one. I’d use that to turn the TV off when I was ready again.

I’d just take my pants down, sit on her bed, while she took off her blouse and bra and then she would kneel down, letting me guide her as she began to suck me off.  If I wanted preliminaries that was fine, anything I asked for she did. But after I broke up with her our bedroom habits changed somewhat. Complicated.

Only if I stayed, while I was waiting to recharge would she completely disrobe and if I needed it, usually I did, she’d wash me very gently with a wash cloth and I’d gently pet her head or we’d talk and I’d rub her breasts, stimulating her and she’d want to take me in her mouth again. And if we weren’t getting along, which was frequently our situation, once I was sated I’d thank her and leave. She didn’t like that. No fun for me either.

I suppose I should make this clear, she both encouraged me to be like this and simultaneously hated me for it. I had never done this with other women, of course when we met I had never had fellatio. Once I discovered this, well, that was it, that’s all we did. Selfish. Call it whatever you want, that’s what I was, selfish. As we got to know each other, it became clear that we disagreed on many matters but I could stop all arguments by taking down my pants and un-zipping, or by simply asking her to take me in her mouth. She hated me for being selfish, but that’s the kind of relationship she had worked to create and that’s what we had. I never asked her age, my guess, she was 35, maybe 40. I was 23.

So Ann was a brilliant woman, known in the city for certain civic achievements, but their were limits. Her neighbors saw my car, we weren’t invisible. Once or twice her neighbors banged on her door.

But whatever else had happened that day, when I came to her home, I had only to sit on her couch or go into her bedroom and sit on her bed. Then, as soon as she knew, when she saw me reach for my belt or even if I just opened my fly, she would take off her top and get on the floor. Usually she took off her blouse and bra, she had small breasts but I very much enjoyed the feel of them pushing up against my legs.

Ann taught me stuff. That Saturday morning when I had come over and she wasn’t expecting me, that was a serious learning experience.

I had just came over for the sex, we had a scheduled date that afternoon, but I wanted to get sucked off that morning and her house wasn’t far from school. So I just came over, I never had to ask. She saw me, she knew. That’s the way it was. But she had work clothes on and had been working in her yard, I think she had been gardening, and she was sweaty, like any other hard working person. But still, seeing me, she asked me if I wanted her and getting a yes she took me into her garage, closed the door and sat very low against the wall, asking me to help her brace her head and shoulders against the garage wall, by putting some pillows behind her head, I had to run in to her house to get them, the neighbors may have noticed, in some ways we were pretty open. Though if I had to guess I would say no, that they had no idea what we were about to do in her garage. I put some canvas mats down for my knees.  Her head was about a foot above the garage floor, and she motioned me to come close. I adjusted the mats and came very close. I straddled her and took her very quickly. No further instructions were needed! Both of us rested and then I put my dick in her mouth again. That was it for gardening. We went inside, showered together, and she made me lunch and got ready for our afternoon date.

Our relationship had just started, for us this was a typical date, it was Saturday morning and I had just shown up. Besides this is what I wanted, see, I’d never straddled anyone before. Maybe she wasn’t coy but it was still a lot of fun and for her, directness was both becoming and feminine.

After that day we did a lot of straddling in her bedroom, at least until I discovered this position was somewhat rough on her. Of course I liked it, I liked it plenty. This was what she had taught me that morning in her garage. I could never tell if she liked it, I’m not sure of this, possibly she liked that it was different. A plus, it wasn’t rough, apparently some of her past boy-friends had been rough. I thought that at first. Later I decided it might have been just something she knew, that she did it because she was practiced at it or perhaps being in that position reminded her of a past partner. I never asked. I only needed to thrust for a few seconds, a minute at most. I don’t recall if she always swallowed or not, I mean she swallowed, but I never noticed.

Later, with other girls, I began to notice such things.

The Fellatio Project

 


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Do you perform fellatio, give blow jobs, or do you get face-fucked? Maybe you do something else.

Some people think that having a mans cock in your mouth is giving a blow job and that a blow job is a blow job is a blow job. fellatioSo very wrong they are. There are as many different ways to pleasure a cock with your mouth as there are, well, cocks. It is true that the cock goes in and out of the mouth regardless what you call it, but the way it goes in and out, the way you appreciate it, the way you worship it, the way he responds… these are all different.

I am a big, BIG, fan of fellatio and cock-sucking, cock worshipping, but I am absolutely no fan of face-fucking. When I am with a man I naturally fall into the submissive role. A stubborn and questioning submissive with a range of likes and dislikes, wills and will nots, but submissive none the less. When sucking a glorious cock I am the one in control, I am the dominant one in that scenario. I control the movement and depth to which I take it in. I give him pleasure. It’s all me and it’s a complete turn on. My mouth salivates and my cunt gets wet just thinking about it. I could almost cum from worshipping my mans cock.

Being face-fucked however, I don’t have control over anything. He is the one forcing his cock in my mouth, or my mouth down on his cock, and down my throat until I gag. I am just a tool to be used for his personal pleasure. There are plenty of women who enjoy being used in that manner, I am just not one of them. There are reasons for this, as there is with most things. I have a fear of not being able to breath. It comes from a lifetime of asthma and allergies and breathing issues. It comes from too many emergency room visits after consuming something that caused my throat to swell and constrict. I can’t handle not being in control of things going in my mouth and obstructing my ability to breath. Gags are a solid no, fingers can be iffy, face-fucking is very difficult. It instantly puts me on the defensive and into panic mode.

This topic of cock sucking versus face-fucking came up with a friend recently. I just so happened to be sucking his cock at the time. It wasn’t long before he grabbed my head, pushed it down and tried to force his cock down my throat. I tried to go with it but couldn’t. This wasn’t the first time so I asked him what the deal was, why he always tried to do that rather than letting me continue worshipping him as I was. You’d think I already knew the answer but I had never asked before. I had just assumed it was a case of the man wanting to be in control and doing this was his way of showing me that he was.

He said that he likes the way it feels when his cock hits the back of my throat, even enters my throat, and that I wasn’t doing that. He also said that my mouth felt fucking fantastic and he loved what I was doing. I told him that if he had let me be and didn’t try to force it I would have gotten to the point of taking him in that far naturally. Even if he had just asked I would have done it. He wasn’t really trying to control me as much as he was trying to get that feeling that he craved.

I’m sure this isn’t true for everyone. There are men who do it just to force their dominance down your throat, so to speak. They like to watch you struggle and suffer and tear up and gag. They get pleasure from seeing fear in your eyes. I’m not saying there is anything wrong with that, it works perfectly well for many people, it just isn’t something that will work for me. You can show your dominance in other ways, or you can let me give you pleasure in a way that I can only do when you let me.

Wicked Wednesday

The Fellatio Project

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This is the beginning of his story, in his own voice.



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The women I’m writing about spent most of their time on their knees.  Which is why I’m writing about them. That’s not why I’m writing about them, no I’m remembering them for much higher reasons…

And this dichotomy is how love develops.

One of them I fell in love with.  And notice, “fell in love with,” that expression exists because people usually don’t make that decision consciously, it’s not like deciding to buy a car.  It can be slow or fast, depending on how much cooperation the soon to be smitten one provides.

I dated other women interspersed with these three. However I mention these women particularly because they made a huge impact on my life, and no, not only because of our dating habits.  Yes this is what I remember, this is all true. I dated these women for the usual reason, because I liked them, one I loved, I only wish I had realized it then. Probably I should say I was pretty disabled then. My health was great, I was a young guy. So how was I disabled? Well, I’m going to leave that as an exercise for the reader.

We dated, we did things, lot’s of things, we went places, out to eat, to movies, went swimming, university lectures, all that, yes. But at home or in a car, well you know…

Also probably I should begin near the end, doesn’t that make sense…

I wanted to leave Miami, I needed to, I had plans. I’m a scientist and I couldn’t do what I do in Miami, that’s what I thought. True at the time. (Not the white coat variety kind of scientist, whatever that is.)

We had been dating for a month or two. Things had already become routine. In a good way. I remember, she stopped me once while I was undressing, asking if this is what I wanted, she meant her sucking me off. And this was a woman who would, just about, well not lose consciousness, nothing like that, but everything else, everything in her world just stopped. Her eyes dilated, her breathing changed, she concentrated on my penis and nothing else mattered for her, not then. Once we were making out, if I didn’t move to facilitate her going down on me, she managed it herself. This idea that women don’t want to, well this one did. She was a nurse. My second.

This is a very complicated story. Sometimes, we’d be making out, and I would be really uncomfortable, because I loved her taking me in her mouth, I hated coming in her mouth. Except there was no other place I wanted to come. The entire experience, well that’s all I wanted.  That’s all we did.  I had been coming in women’s mouths for years. At college. We’ll get to that.

About Amy, I think we had regular vaginal sex once, just once. I was so out of practice, I’d tell her what I intended, I’d put a condom on, but once we started I kept wanting to change positions to put my dick in her mouth and pump to completion. We tried to have sex, regular sex, several times, except that’s what happened, I would stop, take off the condom, and she’d use a towel to clean me and put my penis in her mouth. She knew, she understood, completely, no conversation, no explanations, she’d just put her hands on my hips and pump me a few times. I’d come. And she’d hang on to my hips and swallow. And yes, as a matter of fact it was pretty wonderful. Except she didn’t know, I never told her, I hated myself every time she swallowed.  But she didn’t hate me, she stayed on my cock until I was limp.  We’d talk.  We talked all night.  We’d make our oral love and then we’d talk. I read to her a lot. I loved reading to her, she got to choose. Sometimes she brought medical textbooks, sometimes psych texts. The first time I invited her to bring something she wanted me to read she chose a book, a nursing text written for pediatric psychiatric nurses.

I should have gotten it right then. I didn’t. I didn’t realize what she was using the book to tell me.  To tell me about herself. I can be so dumb. I didn’t get it at all.

This is going to get really complicated, I hope that’s alright.

Sometimes, trying to change our habits, I’d put my arms under hers so that she couldn’t go down on me, though make no mistake, I loved what she did, I loved her for what she did. Except I hated coming in her mouth. I loved her mouth, she’d give me just the right fit and I would deliver all I had. I so loved fucking her this way, I really did. I remember the first time, still, today, I remember the first time. The thing is, she was so perfect at swallowing, so perfect a partner, anyway, it’s true, I began to hate it when I came. I hated myself for what I was doing. She made it so hard to change. Plus, I wasn’t a man, I may have been 25, but no, I wasn’t actually a man. A man would have cared more for his lady.  I was a cad, a rake.  But no, I wasn’t a man.

We started going to hotels. Many times at one hotel, we’d been going here for a while, she stripped herself down completely and took pillows from our bed and set them up so that I could straddle her while I was on my knees. Which made it easy for me to pump into her with some speed. And, almost every time we did this, it hurt Amy, it hurt her mouth. No, I hurt her mouth. Not intentionally, but simply because of the friction presented by my cock against her mouth and jaw. Against the side of her mouth. My cock, going in and out, against the side of her mouth.

I wanted to talk about marrying her, but never did. I was afraid. I mean, I never even asked her age, I was 25. So I never found out how much older she was than me. I didn’t invite her to my office though she worked only a few blocks away, at Jackson Memorial Hospital. I was, seriously, a complete jerk.

Amy’s family visited Miami, she asked if I wanted to meet them, I said “no.” What was I going to tell her Dad?, I just couldn’t see myself being polite to him. (By this time I was fairly certain she had been abused, my guess was that he was the abuser.)

I did try to be as tender with Amy, as tender, as gentle, even exceedingly gentle, as much as I possibly could be. Sometimes sucking me was her idea, I let her lead, not all the time, but I never forced her or encouraged her once she signaled me that she didn’t want to have sex.  Typically this was temporary. I came over, she had been about to go to the bathroom. Obviously I waited until she was comfortable. But such occasions were very rare. (This was very difficult for me, I was 25 and ordinarily pretty horny, especially after becoming used to her. But that was it, her “no” meant no.) Still, in part because of my certainty that she’d been molested I tried to be especially gentle in all things Amy. Sure, sometimes, especially when I had just arrived, I’d position her against that wall, (she moved there herself once she knew what I intended,) and getting on my knees, just face fuck her. That was a lot of fun! Not tender but she never complained, except she didn’t want this all the time, after that first time she wanted me to go slow, to hold her, many times, to let her lead.

Those tender times were some of the best. But yes, sometimes, I’d position her on pillows, which had been put against a wall, straddle her and just enjoy “face fucking” her. And she’d swallow, then hold my buttocks until long after I had come, just holding on to help me relax.

Once, she had come to my apartment (simply to pick up something) while others were visiting, and I was hoping that she would be the last to leave so she could suck me off, but the visitors were work-related (one was my boss,) and I didn’t feel comfortable giving them the rush out the door. But Amy, normally quiet and demure, suddenly managed something very simple: She told them the truth, that her nursing shift was starting soon and she wanted to say good-bye to me, could they give us some private time together?

They left, as far as I could tell, not offended, and Amy bade me to sit down on the couch, getting a pillow and then kneeling in front of me. And she did this the moment the outside front door had closed. Immediately.  I never had a chance to speak, even to ask her. That time wasn’t the best, the occasion was too brief and, for me, very slightly painful. Indeed, I should have waited until I saw her again, but she didn’t know that of course. Still, Amy knew my needs and frequently, knowing or assuming I was horny, she would initiate our time together. I definitely wasn’t taking advantage of a poor molested girl.

Make no mistake though, whatever had happened, had hurt her. No one should read this and think she wasn’t badly damaged by what happened to her and had I been an actual man I would have done more. What? Well I should have accepted that dinner engagement with her Father, that would have been a start.

Did I mention I’m not very diplomatic…

But when she did me everything in her world went away.  My penis was all that she was concerned with, that and my thrusting, what she could make it do, what she could make come out of it.  And I don’t normally talk about my penis that way, but that was who Amy was, who we were, when we were together.

I never did discuss with Amy whatever Becky had told her…

Probably here is a good place to start talking about Becky.

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The Fellatio Project

 


Copyright 2008-2011, by JustSomeOldMan

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