Pulsating Power

[Comments always welcomed--well, not stupid, assholish ones!]

Part I: The Origin Story

"Come on," he said, "it's only a blow job."

Well, "only a blow job" was a pretty big thing to me, an 18-year-old virgin who'd never even touched a guy's penis.

"What?" I hear you ask, "Is there even such a thing these days?" Well, yes, there is. My parents are extremely conservative, religiously and socially. They were very strict and, from middle school on, I went to a suitably conservative Christian school. Every event was well chaperoned. I didn't date—at least not in any normal sense. My parents would take me and my "date" out with them to a movie or dinner. So, yeah, there is such a thing as an 18-year-old virgin whose never touched a guy's dick.

This guy was insistent, though. (I'm not going to even mention his name. He was a creep, as I'll explain, and naming him seems to humanize him in a way that he doesn't deserve.) Recognizing my reluctance, he backed off on his demands.

"Okay, how about you give me a handjob—just a handjob. You think you can handle that?"

He was trying to embarrass me into doing more. It wasn't working. But I thought that giving this guy a handjob would be an acceptable way out of the current awkward situation. And, after all, I was now in college and away from my parents. Maybe it was time to push some boundaries. So, I reluctantly agreed.

He was quick to unzip his pants and begin pulling out is dick.

"Right here?" I said. "In the car?"

"No time like the present," he replied, no doubt worried that moving to his dorm room might give me a chance to gracefully back out.

By now he'd not just unzipped his pants but opened them completely and pushed them and his boxers down below his hips. His cock was hardening at the mere thought of my touching it. And, this gave me a rush of a feeling of power. Suddenly the thought of touching his growing penis was not frightening but intriguing.

My hand was trembling as I reached out to touch him. When my fingers first made contact, I was surprised by the warmth and softness of the skin.

I guess I was being too tentative because he put his hand over mine, making my fingers wrap around his now hard cock. He started moving my hand up and down, showing me what he wanted.

When he removed his hand, I continued to jack him off. This was surprisingly satisfying to me. What I'd thought was something I was just acquiescing in for

his

pleasure turned out to be quite pleasurable for me, too.

This was especially true as I saw the effect I was having on him. Not surprisingly, his cock was completely rigid now. But the effect wasn't confined to that. His breathing was growing heavy and his hips began gyrating slowly in sync with the motions of my hand.

If I'd jacked him hard, I think I could have made him explode quickly. But I was enjoying this and I decided to slow things down a little. It was fun to see his hips thrusting, to hear his breathing change, to watch the expression on his face and see how, with just one hand, I could control his entire body.

I wasn't trying to tease him; I just wanted to draw this out for a bit. But I guess I got him pretty bothered. I felt his hand on the back of my head. He wasn't

forcing

me toward his cock but it was clear what he wanted. But as much as I was enjoying stroking his cock with my hand, sucking his cock was still a line I wasn't ready to cross.

"Oh, please!" he pleaded. "You've got me so turned on. I want to feel your lips on my cock. Just for a minute. Please let me feel that."

I think he sensed my ambivalence. It seemed like a big step—too big for me to take. On the other hand, his cock felt wonderful in my hand. And I couldn't deny that I was thinking about how it would feel in my mouth. All my new girlfriends in the dorm had given blow jobs—at least they all said they had. Maybe it wasn't such a big deal after all.

But, then the idea of him cumming in my mouth filled my mind. That made me make a mental step back from the line I was considering crossing.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want you to cum in my mouth."

"I won't. I promise. I just want to feel your mouth on my cock. I promise I won't cum."

"You promise?"

"Yes! Yes! I promise."

He was desperate. His desperation and, no doubt, my curiosity, led me back to that line and, then, across it.

I bent down toward his crotch. Now the scent of it filled my nostrils. It was a scent I'd never experienced before—musky and a little sweaty but not unpleasant.

His cock was sticking straight up and I was holding it by the base. My lips were quivering as they first made contact with the tip of his cock. Hesitantly, I opened my lips and felt, for the first time, a hard cock penetrate my mouth.

Looking back on this, I realize that I wasn't giving a great blow job. I was tentative, moving slowly on and off just the head of his cock. But he wasn't complaining. He was moaning with pleasure and muttering "Oh my Gods!" over and over.

This had an effect on me, too. I felt powerful in a way I had never experienced before. The immediate sensations were pleasurable—the hardness of his cock, the smoothness of the skin, the feeling as the helmet slipped back and forth past my lips. But it was the feeling of having extreme power over this guy that I enjoyed the most.

My power was having its predictable effect. This guy's breathing was getting ragged and his hips were thrusting rapidly. I wasn't any sort of expert but I was pretty sure he was about to cum.

I pulled my mouth off his cock.

His hand came down on the back of my head, forcing my mouth over his throbbing cock. He held me tightly and writhe as I might, I wasn't able to get free. Now he had both hands on my head, holding it still while he pistoned his cock in and out of my unwilling mouth.

And, then, his hips stopped moving. His cock was buried deep in my mouth. I felt a sickening feeling come over me as his cock began pulsating and pumping cum in my mouth. Over and over and over I felt jets of cum pulse up his shaft past my lips and into my mouth.

I was gagging and his cum was leaking out of my mouth and running down his throbbing cock. And, still, he held my head tightly and pumped his spunk into me.

Finally, he was spent and his hands released my head. I spit out onto his crotch the cum that was still in my mouth, gagged, and spit again.

I sat up, crying and still gagging. I looked at him and the son of a bitch managed, in breaths that were still heavy, to say, "Sorry!"

Sorry? SORRY? You fucking asshole!

I wanted to say. But I didn't say anything. I slapped him as hard as I could and bolted out of the car heading for my dorm room.

That was my unfortunate introduction to sex. It's not surprising that it left scars, I guess. It is surprising what those scars resulted in.

For weeks I was in a funk. I managed to avoid my assailant but I couldn't put what happened out of my mind. But, like any flood, eventually it receded. After a while, it was only at rare moments when, either provoked by some comment or event or seemingly from nowhere, I would suddenly have a sick feeling as I remembered the feeling of his hands forcing my mouth onto his cock as he spewed his seed in my mouth.

Over time, mixed with the feelings of anger and revulsion, I also came to have a strange attraction to some of the feelings I'd experienced despite still hating the fact that I'd been given no choice. In particular, the sensation of a cock pulsing in my mouth began to hold a fascination for me. What would it be like, I thought, to experience that on my terms?

Eventually, I was to find out.

Part II: My Superpower Explored

People say things like "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger," "no pain, no gain," and "out of suffering, strength." That's mostly a lot of bullshit. But sometimes it's true enough.

For months, I had no interest in dating guys. To tell the truth, my anger spilled over to the entire sex. I never voiced the "all men are pigs" mantra, but it wasn't far off as a description of my feelings—at least for a while.

But that changed and eventually I began dating again, first with a really nice guy, Zac, who didn't pressure me at all. This was great for my healing. I was in charge. I don't mean in a dom/sub sense. He was an enthusiastic and active participant in everything we did and could certainly be playfully controlling and assertive. But I set the boundaries and he respected them.

So, when our activities progressed to where oral sex was comfortable for me and I could do it on my terms, I was ready.

We were in Zac's room in a house he rented with three other guys. It was late on a Friday night and we'd been having a good time together all day. We were lying on Zac's bed, making out and I decided to surprise him with a blow job.

This time, I was to be the aggressor—but only in a playful way, of course. I pinned Zac down saying that he had to submit to me. (He could have easily thrown me off if he wanted to. He didn't.)

When he showed signs of yielding to me, I moved down and took off his belt. I used it to tie his hands together over his head. It was a lousy job of tying but it was just play, after all. I moved down again and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. I managed to work them off completely, with a little assistance from him by lifting his hips at crucial times.

Then I sat back and looked at him closely. His cock was semi-stiff when I took his pants off and it was rising now in anticipation of what I might be planning to do. I'm betting he was expecting a hand job, since that's all we'd done so far. If I was right, he was going to be pleasantly surprised.

I didn't even touch him with my hands. Instead, I slowly leaned down and brought my lips to underside of his cock, which was now fully erect and pointing to his belly button. I might not have much experience giving head but I'd done my homework. (Isn't the internet wonderful!)

As my lips touched the most sensitive part, Zac's cock twitched and he moaned. I moved down and touched the very base of his cock with my outstretched tongue, running my tongue up his cock to the head.

Zac's cock was throbbing and twitching and his hips began moving, probably of their own volition.

After a few more runs with my tongue up and down his shaft, I brought my lips to the tip of his cock and slowly opened my mouth to invite him in.

As I worked his hard shaft with my mouth, I was enjoying his squirming and moaning with pleasure. I was filled with the power I'd felt in my first experience, but this time it was an unmixed pleasure.

Zac was writhing and moaning in pleasure and I held the reins on that pleasure. I could spur it more quickly or hold it back. I teased him for quite a while—not to torment him but to extend the pleasure for both of us.

At one point, Zac brought his bound hands to the back of my head. He wasn't trying to force my head onto his cock. He didn't need to do that. It was more of a gentle caress of my head. But still, I reacted quickly and too forcefully in pushing his hands away, making it clear that he was not to do that.

And then I got back to my work (and my pleasure) in earnest. I began working Zac's cock with my lips in an ever-quickening rhythm. I could feel his response and I knew I was pushing him to a climax now. And we were both eager for that.

I felt his thighs clench and I heard him groan. Then I felt it. I felt his rigid rod begin to pulse uncontrollably. I held perfectly still feeling the surging power of his ejaculation. I could feel the cum pulsing up his cock and past my tightly gripping lips. And I could feel surge after surge of salty cum fill my mouth.

I didn't really like the taste of cum (yet!), but I sure liked the experience of Zac coming in my mouth. All the positives of my first experience with none of the negatives.

Zac finished and I swallowed several times with his now softening cock in my mouth.

He was spent not only physically but emotionally. When he gathered his wits about him enough to talk, he just muttered, "Oh my God! That felt so incredible!"

I lay next to him with my head on his chest and listened to his heart beat as it went from "off the charts" to merely fast, then to a normal rhythm.

Part III: My Superpower Exploited

Zac and I had a good run together. For six months we were inseparable. We made love is so many ways: fucking, 69ing, oral sex one way or another. But one of the favorites, for both Zac and me, was where I'd suck him off, finishing him in my mouth by holding him perfectly still while his cock pulsated cum into my mouth.

But like most college romances, this ended. No blow ups or anything. We just moved on in separate directions. And then I began to look at and fantasize about other guys in a way I never had.

If I'd been a man thinking about women the way I was thinking about men, I'd be thought a crude, sexist pig. I wasn't looking into their eyes, if you know what I mean. I'd meet a guy and almost immediately wonder, what does his cock look like? What would it feel like in my mouth? How many jets of cum could I make him shoot into my mouth? What would it taste like?

I was fixated on cocks but I wasn't a size queen. I would learn that, while huge cocks feel terrific when they shoot jets of hot, salty cum in your mouth, medium-sized and even small cocks also feel terrific doing that. It's all about the way the cock pulses between your lips as it shoots its load.

With the relationship with Zac over, I didn't need to treat my curiosity about what guys' cocks would feel like spewing cum in my mouth as a purely academic issue. I'd changed pretty radically from the conservative, religious girl I was when I'd come to college. Zac had restored my faith and interest in men and I was ready to explore what was out there to be experienced.

As it turned out, there was quite a lot out there to be experienced and experience it I did! I got something of a reputation—well, something more than just

something

of a reputation. Girls hated me and talked trash behind my back and sometimes to my face. I didn't care. Guys loved me. Well, not

me

really. What they loved is what I could, and would, do for them.

It's not like any of the guys wanted me to be their girlfriend. They all knew that I was never going to be exclusive. But they were all more than happy to hook up with me, on the low-down if they had a current girlfriend.

There are too many stories to tell here. Here's just one typical one.

Mark calls me up about 5:00 pm to ask if I can go out to dinner. From my point of view, nothing like a dinner or movie is required. My reward comes (sp?) later. But, hell, if guys want to spring for dinner or something, too, who am I to turn that down.

Mark is one of the few guys I know who has a car at school so we're not confined to restaurants that are within walking distance. He tells me where he's made reservations. It's a nice, mid-range restaurant.

As we drive there, I run my hand up the inside of his thighs. I can see his cock hardening even through his Levi's. He's hardening so fast not just because of my touch, but because he knows what's in store for him.

When we pull into the parking lot, I tell him where to park—well away from any other cars. He's compliant; he knows what's going to happen. I suspect he's feeling pretty lucky, knowing that he's likely to get twice as much action tonight as he was expecting.

Mark turns off the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. I've already gotten mine unbuckled. I turned toward him and unzipped his fly. His cock was already hard and that made it difficult to wrestle it out but, hell, I'm something of a pro by this time.

Looking down on his rigid rod, eagerly sticking straight up, I find my mouth beginning to water and I almost lick my lips. I see no reason to draw this out. It's just a "before dinner appetizer"—a quick mouthful before we dine. There will be a longer, more drawn out "after dinner dessert." And, besides, I was eager to feel Mark's cock pulsing between my lips.

So, I move down on his dick enthusiastically, working it with my lips while I jack his cock from the base with my hand.

He has a nice cock: smooth, rigid with a well-defined head and a prominent urethra. All of these features are virtues but especially the last. A prominent urethra makes it much easier to feel the shots of cum shooting down the shaft past your lips and into your mouth.

I hear Mark moaning. It seems like he's as anxious to move this along as I am. And I know how to speed things along. Pumping the base of his cock with my hand and working the head with my mouth, I have him on the edge in 90 seconds or so.

When I feel his thighs clench and his hips thrust up, I press my mouth down as far on his cock as I can, clamp down with my lips tightly and stop moving my hand and my mouth. Now is the moment to reap my reward and that reward is best experienced passively—well, passively physically; there's a lot of activity in my mind.

And quite a reward it is. Maybe Mark has been sexually deprived for a while. Or maybe he's just a heavy producer. But, whatever the cause, it has a great effect.

I feel pulse after pulse, first pressing past my hand and then past my lips. Mark's cock is throbbing hard in my mouth. It's an amazing set of sensations and I'm drinking it all in—both figuratively and literally.

Finally, Mark's cock gives a series of pulses pressing out the last drops of cum into my mouth. I swallow, clearing my mouth, and sit up.

"Shouldn't we go in and eat?" I say brightly, as if nothing had happened.

Mark is still recovering and takes a while to compose himself. I'm out of the car before he is and walking toward the restaurant. He has to jog to catch up with me.

Dinner is great but uneventful, though I do manage to tease Mark in some slightly childish ways. When I take the waiter up on the offer of coffee, he asks if I want cream or sugar. "No sugar," I reply, "but I really love cream." And when the waiter goes through the options for dessert, I tell Mark, "If you order the creme brulee, I'll eat some yours." Not particularly clever, but it keeps Mark's mind focused on the after dinner activities.

Those take place back at his apartment, where I can take my time and extend my pleasure—Mark's too, I'm sure, but I'm more focused on mine.

Mark puts on some music. That's fine but I don't really care. It's not like a guy has to set the mood for me; he just has to drop his drawers. And Mark is more than eager to do that.

He flops down on the couch next to me and turns to me to begin making out. He's trying to be a gentleman—you know, kissing me and trying to act like he's interested in more than just getting his cock sucked. I'm not. So I start massaging his crotch through his jeans, getting the reaction I'm expecting and desiring.

Mark's fondling my breasts. That's fine, especially if it turns him on. But that's not where my attention is. I'm concentrating on the growing bulge in Mark's pants. I unbuckle his belt and open his pants. Reaching into his boxers, I wrap my hands around his now hard and hot cock. This is what I care about.

I ask him to stand up. I want to get his pants completely off. Actually, I want him completely naked. I like the CFNM scenarios. They underscore who has the power. I know I have it, but I like this being completely clear to the guy. And, I've never had a guy be reluctant if he thinks he's going to get his cock sucked.

By the time Mark's completely naked his cock has softened a bit. I kneel down on the floor between his knees and quickly take him in my mouth, bringing him back to a fully erect state in seconds. (I love the feeling of a cock hardening in my mouth. It's not the best feeling in the world—that's the feeling of a hard cock pulsating cum into my mouth—but it's pretty terrific.)