Looking at Elizabeth, you would never imagine the incredible pleasure she could give a man. Everything about her seemed ordinary and uninspired. A brown-eyed brunette standing about 5'1', she preferred penny loafers, long skirts and blouses buttoned to the neck over tight jeans and halter tops. She never wore shorts or sandals, even in the heat of summer--no unnecessary exposed skin, no tan; and her long straight hair was always worn up, never loose or in a ponytail. Her sense of fashion, or lack of it, was unusual for someone her age. At 19, Elizabeth did not appear to be your typical teenage nymph, and you probably wouldn't look twice at her if you saw her in a crowded bar. But that would have been a mistake.
Naked, which is how she preferred to be seen, was another story. Beneath the shapeless wardrobe was a mini model's body: graceful, elegant neck, wide, angular shoulders, a tiny waist and a cute, tight little ass. She had surprisingly long, lean legs for a woman of her stature, and a nice, flat, lick-able tummy. Her breasts fit her petite frame just perfectly: firm, upright 34C's with pert half-inch nipples that just begged to be pinched; and her silky hair was long and flowing, baby-soft, and reached halfway down her back. Elizabeth's face was pretty, in a classic, non-descript kind of way, but not what you would call beautiful; its most striking feature was a set of full, juicy, coral-colored lips, ala Angelina Jolie. Your eyes were drawn to them by an ever-present, knowing, mysterious smile---a Mona Lisa, come-hither smile--- a devilish smile that never left her face. She smiled when she spoke, when she said hello and goodbye; she even smiled when she laughed. It was her calling card.
Make no mistake about it; Elizabeth was not clueless about how she looked. There was purpose behind the lame wardrobe: it took attention away from her considerable beauty. Less asshole men to deal with, she reasoned, and more control over which ones she chose to reveal her true nature to. The truth was that Elizabeth possessed a deep, dark sexuality---as equally well hidden as her perfect body. Smoldering desire consumed the girl's every waking moment and simmered just under the surface of her otherwise conventional life. It was a concentrated desire, boiling hot, ready to be expressed at any time---but only under the right circumstances. Elizabeth's sexual cravings were narrowly focused---obsessively focused---around sucking cock. She'd much rather suck than fuck. Her week was not complete unless she had given someone a satisfying blowjob. If she didn't carefully manipulate and control her powerful obsession, she'd very likely be a 2-bit whore giving $10 BJ's on the street. Instead, Elizabeth was well-adjusted, held down a respectable part-time job in my law firm, attended college, and maintained a loyal, long-term relationship with an older lover, me, who pretty much paid for everything. Believe me, she was worth every penny.
So, at first glance Elizabeth appeared to be the classic egghead, a sweet little wallflower; but in reality her life was a living, breathing porno movie. She was, at heart, an artist. Giving blowjobs was her art, her means of expressing herself and her femininity...her religion, if you will. And if you were ever lucky enough to become the object of her oral attention, as I was for almost 3 years, you'd no doubt remember Elizabeth Irving for the rest of your life.
I was 35 back then and she was barely 19 when we first met at a local college watering hole. I was trolling for some young thing to take home and needed some rolling papers. I thought it would be a witty come-on to announce my problem to a table full of foxy young girls, which I did. A gorgeous blonde, slightly offended by my request, pointed out the potheads in the group. Quickly scanning the table, the blonde stood out as the one to take home and fuck senseless; but it was a petite, frumpy looking brunette sitting quietly in the corner who froze me with a seductive smile and spoke up, offering to provide the goods. What the hell, I thought: pussy was pussy. I agreed to share a joint with her, and before long we were walking out of the bar to the envy of her catty friends. Shortly after taking me back to her dorm room, I had her on her knees, gamely sucking cock for the first time in her young life. Later we fucked, but she insisted on blowing me two more times, and swallowed my cum on the last round. She loved it. We both knew that night that Elizabeth had found her calling in life.
I was married at the time, and an improbable May-December affair followed. Within a few short months, the quiet, unpretentious 19 yr old had developed, thanks to my patient tutoring, into a very talented cocksucker. She became a more than willing sperm drinker and discovered that she could orgasm just by giving head and having men cum in her mouth. She became fixated on me as her lover and teacher, and together we explored the joys of what turned out to be her innately submissive nature. She was eager to please, and obedient to a fault and, best of all, would meet me anywhere, anytime, to service my cock. But It wasn't long before she began to crave the taste of cum, and even I couldn't supply her with enough jism to keep her happy. So I encouraged her to discretely indulge her obsession with other men as well---as long as she asked permission first and reported back to me with the intimate details of each encounter. She was happy to oblige. She pledged her loyalty and embarked on an orgy of cock sucking. It was a little disconcerting at first, but eventually I loosened up and her oral adventures became pure pud-pounding fun.
She'd call me sometimes in the middle of the day on her cell phone, seeking approval to suck guys off in the weirdest places: stairwells, bathrooms, dressing rooms, gym locker rooms. She'd call me afterwards and dirty-talk me to orgasm while we both masturbated.
"My, God, Michael, I'm still hot!" she whispered into the phone once after sucking some guy off in an empty classroom.
"Did he cum in your mouth?" I asked.
"Yes...kind of...it was really thick and salty" she offered details.
"Did you swallow it?" I wanted to know.
"Yes, most of it." She replied, sounding disappointed.
"So why aren't you satisfied, you little slut?" I teased.
"He came too soon", she explained. "I was just getting in to it. His dick was delicious and I wanted to keep sucking it, but he pulled it out of my mouth while he was cumming, the fucking asshole," she explained.
"Poor baby," I joked.
"Fuck you," she shot back, not amused at all. Giving blow jobs was serious business to Elizabeth.
"Are you playing with yourself?" I asked, getting back to the subject.
"I always masturbate when I call you. That's what you want, isn't it, Michael. I have two fingers in my pussy. Mmmm, it feels good! Are you playing with yourself?" she wanted to know.
"Of course. It's nice and hard. Maybe I'll cum for you if you're a good girl," I teased, encouraging her to keep frigging herself.
"Mmmm...just picturing you jerking off is making me hotter. God, I want to cum, Michael. I'm getting close. Can I?" Her breathing got heavier and her voice quivered as her submissiveness kicked in as she asked for permission.
"Not yet. Tell me more. So what happened? Did he shoot all over you?" I asked.
