Something Special About Maxine

I dedicate this story to Jon.

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Something Special about Maxine, #1

The King of Cunnilingus is in search of his Queen of Fellatio

Christopher was on a personal, sexual mission. He wanted to have oral sex with as many women as he possibly could. He wasn't totally sexually selfish. Willing to give women oral sex before they gave him oral sex, he was a four F kind of guy, find them, feel them, fuck them, and forget them. Except, in his case, instead of fucking them, he preferred licking them so that they'd suck him. In that regard, his true calling was finding them, feeling them, licking them, having them suck him, and then forgetting about them.

It all started innocently enough when Christopher read an online article, The Most Notorious Man Whores of all Time. Jack Nicholson admitted that he had surpassed the 2,000 mark in bedding women. Julio Iglesias admitted to having had sex with more than 3,000 women. Ron Jeremy, porn star, admitted to having had slept with more than 4,000 women. Gene Simmons of Kiss admitted to having had sex with more than 4,600 women before marrying Playboy Playmate and movie star, Shannon Tweed. Charlie Sheen claimed to have had more than 5,000 sexual partners. Warren Beatty supposedly slept with more than 12,000 women before settling down with movie star wife, Annette Bening, and having four sons. Basketball Hall of Fame legend, Wilt Chamberlain supposedly slept with more than 20,000 women. Fidel Castro wasn't too busy being a dictator of his country to have slept with more than 35,000 women.

Those astronomical numbers of sexual partners would disgust most people, especially women, but not Christopher. Feeling as if he was wasting his life with missed sexual opportunities, he was enamored with the numbers. As if the article was personally and expressly written for him, he had new role models to follow. He had new heroes to emulate. Wanting to be his own man whore, he wanted to sexually experience and orally pleasure as many women as he could.

'So many women and so little time,' he thought.

Now curious to know, he wondered how many women he could have cunnilingus with for them to give him fellatio. The next woman he had sex with would be a milestone in his twisted sex life. The next woman that he licked and that sucked him would be number five hundred. Five hundred different women, he couldn't believe it. Already somewhat of a sexual legend himself, he had a hard time of wrapping his brain around having had sex with five hundred women.

He tried thinking of the four-hundred-ninety-nine women that he bedded but, spaced over his sexual lifetime and with him now in his fifties, he could only remember a few dozen women at a time. If it wasn't for his computerized, black book list, he'd have no idea how many women he licked and fingered and how many women stroked and sucked him. Writing their names, their descriptions, the dates of them having sex, and anything else that he could type in to help him remember them, he enjoyed rereading his list while remembering this woman and that woman. Sometimes, when horny enough, he even masturbated over his list of women while recalling this one and that one.

*** MadMadMadMaxine ***

That night, after having picked her up on the beach earlier in the day and inviting her to his house for dinner that night, Christopher was hoping to have sex with tall and sexy, Amanda, a dark haired, sexual Goddess. He was hoping to make her his five-hundredth, sexual conquest. When Antonio Carlos Jobim wrote the music and Vinicius de Moraes wrote the lyrics, they must have had someone who looked like Amanda in mind when they wrote the song, The Girl from Ipanema.

Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking and when she passes, each one she passes goes 'ah.'

Only, Amanda had no idea what Christopher had in mind when she accepted his invitation to his home on Corpus Christi beach. Assuredly, she thought, he just seemed like a nice guy and they made a connection enough to see what would develop over dinner and wine. Even though he was much older than she was by at least a dozen years, obviously, she thought she'd be safe with him to agree to go to his house alone at night.

Unfortunately for her, something she should have known with her having been around the block a few times herself, she had no idea that he only wanted one thing. With his interest in her just about sex, he wanted to have sex with her sexy body. He wanted to remove her panties, fall between her shapely thighs, and lick her and finger her pussy. He wanted to eat her cunt and give her an orgasm first before he expected her to blow him.

He wanted her to look up at him with her big, brown, beautiful eyes, while she sucked his hard, hairy cock. His only intention, the main focus of this brief, sexual union was to cum in her mouth and watch her swallow his cum. To him, no matter how beautiful she was, she was just another number on his list of women he bedded.

Most men wanted to fuck her. Most men wanted her to blow them. At least he was different than most men in that regard. At least he was interested in getting her off first. At least he was willing to lick and finger her pussy long enough to give her an orgasm.

*** MadMadMadMaxine ***

As soon as they finished dinner, wanting to be more comfortable, they took their wine over to the futon. As soon as he moved combination bed and couch, he changed from a gentleman to a sex fiend. Kissing and kissing her, he felt her where she'd obviously be more comfortable with him feeling her on a third date and not a first date. Moving too fast, obviously by her standoffish body language, he was making her feel uncomfortable, pressured, and rushed.

"Wait. Stop. Oh, my God," said Amanda trying to save her dignity, her modesty, and her virginity, not that she was a virgin by any stretch of the imagination.

Christopher gave her a knowing look and a sexy smile.

"Relax Honey. Have a drink," he said removing his horny hand from beneath her short skirt to pour her more wine.

She looked at him as if he was deranged.

"Relax? How can I relax with you raping me? Have another drink? I've had quite enough to drink, thank you very much," she said. "I should go."

He leaned in to kiss her while reaching beneath her skirt again.

"You're so beautiful," he said. "You're so sexy."

As soon as his fingertips touched her panties again, she pushed him away.

"Stop! Jesus. How dare you? Let go of me this instant," she said pushing him away. "Let me go. Oh, my God, you're such a pig," said Amanda pushing Christopher's hands from beneath her short skirt when he moved his hand up her skirt yet again. "Don't you dare touch my panties," she said slapping at his hand to no avail.

Acting so modestly innocent, she fluffed down her skirt the instant he lifted her skirt and reached his hand beneath her short skirt again. While he played the horny teenager, she played the reluctant virgin. She tried closing her legs while desperately trying to pull her panties back up but as soon as she pulled her panties back up, he pulled them back down again. Struggling with her as if he was a rapist, not taking no for an answer, Christopher had worse rejections from better women that turned out to be the best sex they ever had. Not to be denied her naked pussy, he just needed her to realize that what he was about to do for her and give her was inevitable. What he was about to do was mutually beneficial, sexual pleasure of the both of them.

Ending the struggle for a moment, he allowed her to think that she won. He allowed her to think that he wasn't going to remove her panties. While he remained focused and still in position between her legs, backing off a little, he allowed her to pull up her panties and fluff down her skirt. He had more than one way to remove her panties.

"Just relax...um, um," he said looking at her with desperation.

Suddenly in a panic, he drew a blank. Unable to remember her name, raking his brain trying to remember, he paused trying to remember her name. He had forgotten her name. He couldn't believe he was unable to remember her name. He had been with so very many women that for the life of him, he couldn't remember her name.

"What?"

She looked at him as if there was something wrong.

"Sorry. This is really embarrassing," said Christopher with a nervous, little laugh. "In all of the sexual excitement of trying to remove your panties, I forgot your name," he said with a shit eating grin.

Not hiding her displeasure with him forgetting her name, as if she was suddenly a black, mad diva instead of a white, rich bitch, she rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. Any other woman would have gotten up from the futon and left. Any other woman would have had more self-respect than to be with a man who couldn't even remember her name. Any other woman would have already tired of being treated like a teenager. With him so intent on removing her panties, any other woman would have taken offense at being so disrespected and being like a slut and/or a whore.

"You forgot my name?" She rolled her eyes again. "Seriously? Are you kidding me?" She looked at him with hurt. "I can't believe you forgot my name," she said looking at him with anger.

He gave her an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry," he said.

She looked at him with disgust.

"You're about to remove my panties and finger and eat my pussy and you don't even know who the fuck I am?" She looked down at him with distain while he smiled up at him with sexual lust. "Oh, my God. I could be Pussy Galore for all you seemingly know or care," she said while struggling to get up from the futon.

'Pussy Galore? Cool name. I like that,' he thought. 'Interesting. He liked the ring to that name as his new moniker,' he thought while staring between her legs at her panty clad pussy.

Only, he'd liked the name more for himself instead than for her. He imagined himself changing his nickname from Rod Hardcock to Pussy Galore.

'Hello,' he imagined introducing himself to women as that name. 'I'm Pussy Galore.'

Granted some women would walk away from him as if he was crazy or a pervert after he introduced himself as Pussy Galore but the women who stayed were the women he wanted. Judging him by his name, the women who stayed would know exactly what he was all about. The women who didn't flee from him would undoubtedly allow him to lick and finger their pussies before sucking his cock.

With her not making his seduction easy, actually nearly ruining it with her feigned reluctance, having struggled with women before, he knew it was all just a game to her as it was to him. With her pretended modesty and her feigned self-respect, he knew she wanted him to eat her as much as he wanted to eat her. Having had sexually experienced enough women, he knew she wanted him to give her an orgasm with his fingers and his tongue just as much as he wanted to give her an orgasm with his fingers and his tongue. Moreover, from all of the women he inherently, sexually experienced orally, he knew she wanted to blow him as much as he wanted her to blow him. As if he was her gynecologist poised between her knees, she looked down at Christopher with displeasure while he looked up at her and with sexual excitement.

"Nice legs," he said feeling the inside of her shapely thighs while changing the subject of forgetting her name. "You have really nice legs and very shapely thighs," he said kissing her legs as if he was making love to her legs instead of her pussy. "Your legs are so firm and so sexy. Are you a dancer?"

He used his compliment to slowly and seductively slide his hand up from her calf and all the way up to and in between her thighs. Then, continuing to tease her, as if her pussy was a ripe piece of fruit or a sweet, fresh muffin, he cupped her pussy through her panty and squeezed. Finally, as if his finger was his toe looking for Littleneck Clams on Corpus Christi beach, he slowly and purposefully slid his index finger over her clit. He pushed down with applied pressure and rubbed her pussy through her panty.

Not stopping there, as if she was naked below the waist, sexually teasing her and obviously delighting her, he slowly and deliberately slid his middle finger down her pussy slit and parted her pussy lips with his panty clad finger. As if she was a nun, Sister Amanda, and he was her priest, Father Christopher, with her playing her part as the eternal virgin, she struggled to move away from him by sitting up more and fluffing down her skirt again. Even though she tried desperately to close her legs, this time with his hand positioned between her thighs as if a wedge, as if she was his prisoner and her pussy was his hostage, she couldn't move.

Leaving his hand there, with his fingers pressed up against the thin, cotton material of her panty, a sure sign that she sexually wanted him, he could feel that she was already moist with sexual desire for him. He knew she wanted him to eat her just as much as he wanted to eat her. He knew she wanted to blow him just as much as he wanted her to blow him. Just like all of the others, with them all the same but with different first names, she was his for the taking and he knew she wouldn't be going anywhere, anytime soon.

"That's just nice," she said ignoring his question with him asking her if she was a dancer. With him still focused on eating her pussy, she was still focused on him forgetting her name. A good looking woman, normally the center of attention at any party or make out session, perhaps he was the only man who ever dared forget her name. "I can't believe you forgot my name...Christopher," she said saying his name no doubt to show him that she hadn't forgotten his name. "Christopher, Christopher, Christopher."

She said his name with attitude and with exaggerated enunciation. As if stabbing him with his name and punctuated with the sharp point of her fingernail, she repeated his name with inflicted, painful diction.

"Sorry," he said meaning it.

Unforgivable at a time like this, her name was the first name he had ever forgotten. Maybe after having sex with his five-hundredth woman, he was tiring of this sex crazed game. Then, in the way she had said his name, she said her name with the same attitude, inflicted diction, and exaggerated enunciation.

"It's Amanda. My name is A-man-da." Leaving a mark on his forehead as if branding him with her manicured fingernail, she pummeled his forehead with her pointy index finger while pounding his brain with the repetition of her name. "Amanda, Amanda, Amanda. Remember my name. It's Amanda. My name is Amanda. Amanda," she said again. "Say it. Say my name. What is my name?"

He rubbed his forehead while checking for blood.

"It's Amanda. Your name is Amanda. I got it," he said. "Thank you, Amanda," he said with a laugh.

She returned his laugh with her frown.

"Now let me up, please. I have to go," she said trying to get up from his futon.

With the back of the futon leaning against the wall at an exaggerated, slanted angle, the futon was fashioned more like a bed or a two person, reclining chair than it was a sofa. In the way of a beetle on its back, she struggled to right herself from the unsupportive softness of the couch. Only, with him having been with enough women, he knew the reason why she had accepted his invitation to his house was not only to get to know him better and for dinner but also for sex.

She wasn't going anywhere until Christopher had his wicked, sexual way with her pussy and with her mouth. She wasn't going anywhere until he gave her what she so wanted and obviously what she so needed. She wasn't going anywhere until she gave him what he so wanted and what he so needed. She wasn't going anywhere until he gave her cunnilingus and she gave him fellatio.

*** MadMadMadMaxine ***

With her long, lush, black hair and beautiful dark eyes, she rested her beautiful head on his futon against the pillows as if she was Cleopatra and he was Mark Antony or one of her slaves about to sexually pleasure his queen. With him half off the futon and half on the floor, as if he was a jewel thief, a family jewel thief, while kissing and kissing her, he reached beneath and up her short skirt for her panty band again. As if he was her husband, her boyfriend, or her lover instead of someone she had just met, he was instantly and sexually familiar with her sexy, shapely body too soon.

An expert at willingly removing women's panties, in the way that women threw their panties at Tom Jones in the 70's while he was singing onstage, women allowed Christopher to remove their panties too. Somehow as if they knew he did too, giving women oral sex was the sexual thing that he loved to do. He was a magician at removing a woman's panties in the way that David Copperfield was expert at removing a tablecloth from a dining room table without spilling a drop of wine or water.

As if he was a panty thief or a panty pickpocket, he stealthily inserted his fingertips in her white, bikini panties while looking up at her to read her. Ever so slowly and seductively, he pulled her panties down as if they were a shroud covering a work of art and he was unveiling her. The first time seeing any woman's pussy was always sexually exciting and now with him sexually inspired, he was determined more than ever to see Amanda's cunt. With her delaying him from what so he wanted, sexually excited from her making him work so hard for it, he couldn't wait to finger her pussy while licking her pussy. He couldn't wait to give her what she wanted so that she could give him what he wanted.

'Abracadabra,' he thought while slowly easing down her panties.

Obviously not wanting to be stripped naked below the waist, when she realized that she was about to be so exposed again, Amanda grabbed the top of her panties in desperation. With him pulling her panties down and her trying to pull her panties up, they struggled again. As if they were teenagers in the backseat of a car, she pulled at her panties one way while he pulled at her panties the other way.

"Oh, my God. Stop! No! What the Hell are you doing? Don't you dare remove my panties. Jesus. I swear to God, I'll scream," said Amanda struggling to sit up and take possession of her panties from him. "I'll call the cops. Rape!"

Making his work a challenge, he smiled at the good game she played. Only, he knew better.

"Relax Amanda. Just relax and go with the flow. I'm going to give you pleasure," he said in a calming voice. "I'm going to give you an orgasm with my fingers, my mouth, and my long tongue," he said allowing his tongue to slide from his mouth as if his tongue was a long, hungry snake.

Inherently knowing she had no intention of leaving or calling the cops to charge him with rape, he continued in his struggle to remove her panties. Ignoring her feeble protests, having played this game hundreds of times before, Christopher knew better. As if he was a dog and her panties were his dog toy, good luck to her in trying to get her panties away from him. Good luck to her in trying to save her false modesty. Having been down this road many times before with hundreds of women, not taking no for an answer, he fell between her legs again but this time, instead of struggling to remove her panties, he pressed his face against her bright, white cotton, panty clad pussy.

"Oh, my God, Christopher," she said holding his head between her hands as if she was holding her dildo. "What are you doing?"

She knew exactly what he was doing. Licking and licking her, not to be denied her cunt, he licked her wet pussy through her panties. Fingering her through her panty, he pushed down on her clitoris and rubbed her through her panties. Licking and licking her, she was already breathing through her mouth and squirming. In the way that men are eager to stick their cocks in a strange woman's mouth, conversely, women are embarrassingly uncomfortable with a man she barely knows fingering and licking her pussy, even if it's only through her panties.