If Six was Nine
(The Great Fakers)
Jeff D Buchanan
His favorite thing, as he was doing now, was to run his tongue in circles around a woman's clit. Following the always tantalizing game of hide and seek, finding it with a careful exploration of fingers, he would settle into a luxurious play of his mouth on a woman's sex, with a special fascination on the magical properties of the tiny organ that was the nerve center of a female. There it was, tucked away in the folds of flesh, lovely and mysterious, coyly hiding, yet waiting and hoping and wanting to be discovered. What would follow was a long, languorous feast of licking, with tender kisses of the lips against the vulva, pressing his face into the loveliness. With the feel of warm thighs against his ears, the legs engulfing him into that other world, the weight of his lover pleasantly cupped in his hands beneath her ass, manipulating her to gain the most with his mouth on her, he would masterfully draw the partner up into her arousal, with the welcome increase in the squirming of her body and the breathing becoming heavy.
He would feel himself getting painfully erect at her pleasure, denying himself even a touch of his penis, teasing himself without relief. Then, just as she began to climax, when she had arrived at that place where the orgasm was inevitable, when the body loses control and enters into that unstoppable bliss, her pleasure assured, he'd stiffen his tongue, like an erect appendage, and surprise his lover with a determined, firm plunge up inside her to feel the engorged flesh walls of her vagina contract around this muscular organ of taste. As her body writhed in a tightening of muscles, back arching, toes curling, the grab of sheets in fists, he would be selfishly finding his own pleasure in the clamping down of her pussy around his tongue, sucking him up into the womb. Then, after a few moments suspended in that euphoric high of pleasure, the body would settle, calming into remnant twitches as she came down off the illustrious joy, his mouth and chin drenched with her wetness. Yes, this was his favorite thing.
Then, after that glorious sensation of feeling her orgasm clasp her pussy around his tongue in tight, unrelenting hold, with slightly less enthusiasm, he would push his erection up inside her, taking pleasure in seeing her face go flush with a new sensation being added to the mix, eyes wide in having a penis now push apart the inner canals of her cunt that had squeezed downed to accommodate the smaller girth of his tongue. Or he would get up on his knees and, as if the various women had all studied at the same carnal school, without words, they'd eagerly bend and take him in their mouth, anxious to render the same pleasure for him that he had just brought to them. But it didn't matter to him. He'd had his joy, he'd felt the contraction of their pussy clamped down in firm grasp of his tongue, like a flesh vise, as if the vagina itself was on some independent desire to coddle and embrace this lovely thing inside it that had delivered such pleasure. Yes, his pursuit of this, which suited women just fine, them believing it to be merely some masterful technique of a consummate lover, rendered to arouse and pleasure them, was in fact, his own pleasure. The clamping down of those vaginal walls, engorged with the blood of arousal, gripping his outstretched tongue with their fleshy hold was the height of sexuality for him, the sweet honey the aperitif--each woman with a distinct and particular taste and scent. Yes, without question, his favorite thing was eating pussy.
He'd learned a long time ago that after having driven his partner to her wild pleasure with oral copulations, if he didn't demand or exact some selfish pleasure by having his own orgasm, his partner would think something strange, or wrong, inviting all kinds of insecurities and self question. The few times he settled back on the bed after having performed oral sex on a partner, with the kind of relaxing and contented demeanor of a man who has just relished a good smoke, savoring the tobacco of sex on his fatigued tongue, without any interest in furthering the encounter, had resulted in an odd mix of reactions, everything from frustration to anger. He realized there were certain expectations and assumptions. So, he'd learned it was easier to pretend he was still aroused and fuck them, or let them suck him off. He'd add some heavy breathing and generate a lot of theatrics when he came, but it was all show--for them, so they could feel complete. In a sense, although he would have an orgasm and ejaculate, he was, for all intents and purposes, faking it.
He was an anomaly. He knew this. As soon as he had become sexually active he had always had a penchant for going down on women. Pussies fascinated him. Cunts were a magical place, an alluring private cavern hidden there at the meet of a woman's thighs, dark and hot. He would marvel at the way they wetted up at his touch, at the involuntary contractions, as well as the welcome opening up to take something in there. He was enthralled how the slightest flick of tongue or tender kiss of the layer of lips could send a woman over the top and leave them gasping for breath, often exclaiming all kinds of sorted and nasty and contradictory things; damning him, cherishing him, blessing him, begging him, often with "no, no, no," followed immediately by "yes, yes, yes." Sometimes he'd take a turn at the anus, the canal there holding its own kind of intriguing convulsions at the touch of a tongue, but the vagina, that's where he loved to dwell with his mouth.
Much to his delight he'd discovered that being a man who was known to spend a great deal of his time during the course of making love with his face happily situated at the gateway to that glorious female cathedral, he didn't have a lot of trouble finding willing partners. Word of mouth traveled swiftly in his circles and women found ways to put themselves in his path, curious to find out for themselves. So, between new conquests and the healthy backlog of phone numbers for those who had experienced the phenomenon, he was rarely without a woman.
However, despite the wonderful dalliances that provided a steady turn of the revolving door of his bedroom, which kept his bed warm with wanting flesh, he felt something was lacking. It wasn't the women, with their entertaining array of vaginas, each with their own individual character--some with long lips, some all tucked up tight, some shaved, others trimmed, and some with all their natural unkempt hair--as well as the fascinating contrasts in how they responded sexually--from ardent screamers to quiet comers--the wildly varying range of sexual preferences--from simple and straight forward to nasty, fetishes, tender to rough, toys, doggy style, on top, tied up, out in public, front seats of cars, etc. etc. etc., all so tantalizingly wonderful--something was amiss in his satisfaction. He had a perfectly fine penis that became erect easily, and he enjoyed having an orgasm, but it just never satiated him the same way as having the fleshy wet walls of a woman's cunt, plumped up by arousal, closing down around his tongue in wonderful strangulation did. That drove him so mad with lust that more than once he'd come without so much as touching himself. He thought of this estrangement from typical satisfaction from time to time, keeping it to himself for fear his male friends would look at him funny for any complaints, given their envy for the steady stream of women passing through his apartment, into his arms and onto his tongue. So he continued the deceit in his carnal activities, keeping the secret to himself and playing perfectly the role of the male. Ultimately, he feared that he was some kind of sexual freak.
One day, while sitting in his apartment, there was a knock at the door. He got off the couch to answer it. When he opened the door an attractive woman of about thirty was standing there. She had wavy brown hair, beautifully mysterious eyes that shown with a kind of intelligent luminance, a wonderful figure, and smooth skin. She paused a moment too long, doing a quick elevator of him from head to foot, pleased with his good looks and fine physique.
