I guess the opposite of an unexpected blow job is a long expected blow job. Is there anything worse that a woman telling you what an incredible cock sucker she is, that she wants to suck your cock so you can see for yourself, and then have to wait for it? And wait and wait and wait for it? That's what happened to me with Connie.
Connie was one of the women I met on the internet. She had a great sense of humor and obviously liked to have fun. We hit if off pretty well and within a week or so, we decided to meet for a drink. So far, so good, right?
We met at a mutually convenient bar and I have to say, I liked what I saw. Connie was fairly tall, maybe five-nine or five-ten. She was dressed casually in tight fitting jeans that made her ass look great and a nice powder blue top. Her breasts weren't very big, but she wasn't flat-chested either. Her hair was a dark, teased-up nest of what I'd call 80's hair. It rose a couple inches above her forehead and fell to about the middle of her back in hair-sprayed tangles. She had bright blue-gray eyes that had permanent laugh crinkles at their corners. Her lips were full and pouting and she wore no lipstick. She had an easy laugh, a warm smile and a personality that just said fun.
There was also an air of sexuality about her that's difficult to describe. Women have subliminal ways of telegraphing their willingness, I suppose. I definitely sensed the sexual possibilities between us almost as soon as we met. It's partly something subtle in body language. I can't explain it, but I certainly pick up on it when it's there. There were other, less obscure signs as well. I've mentioned before how much I like to make eye contact with women, and in Connie I found a woman who returned it unflinchingly. To have your eyes locked together for long stretches, well after the timer in your head says it's time to look away, can really build up the heat.
Well, our drinks turned into dinner. We were having a blast, laughing and joking like we'd known each other for years. A lot of the humor was sexual in nature, but nothing too far out of line for a first date. We had originally gotten to the bar around six o'clock. At 9:30 we were still finishing dessert. After dinner I walked Connie back to her car and she offered to drive me over to my car. Now it was not cold or raining and my car was less than fifty feet away. But I'm not an idiot. I got in the car with her and we wound up making out in the parking lot for another half hour or more.
It didn't go any farther than some deep kissing and a little groping, but we both went home a tad breathless. For the next week or two Connie and I tried to work another date into our schedules, but without success. About a week after that, she stopped returning my emails.
Now I'm not one to pester a woman. If I send a few emails and get zilch in return, then I back off. I don't know what the situation might be and I usually try to give the benefit of the doubt. So another week goes by and I've just about written Connie off when I finally did get an email from her. She apologized for not getting back to me sooner, but she had something serious to work out.
Naturally, I asked what the problem was. She told me that she and her husband, from whom she'd been separated for several months prior to her meeting me, were getting back together. I was disappointed, I confess. Connie seemed like she would have been a lot of fun. But I thanked her for being honest and told her what a good time I'd had on our date.
Connie surprised me by replying that she was sorry things hadn't worked out differently; that she had gotten so hot that night that she couldn't get to sleep. Now I wouldn't expect that from a woman who is getting back with her husband. At least not if she's serious about him. So I figured I'd push things a little bit.
I emailed back, saying it had been the same for me, which was more or less true--she had gotten me pretty turned on. I wished her luck with her situation and told her to feel free to write me whenever she wanted. I closed by saying I felt like I missed an awesome opportunity. I hesitated, thinking it over for a moment and then added, "I knew I should have just whipped it out that night!"
I figured what the hell, Connie had a sense of humor and would probably take it for just a joke anyway. What I was really hoping is that she would offer some kind of humorous reply that would let me keep things open for discussion, even if only jokingly. Let's face it, if we're both joking about it, we're both thinking about it. And as long as she's still thinking about it, I've got a chance.
Well, I wasn't disappointed with Connie's reply. It was actually a lot better than I had expected.
"Whipping it out wouldn't have done you any good... I hate giving head in a car!"
I re-read that one a few times, getting hornier and hornier at the thought of Connie giving head in a car. Or, more specifically, Connie giving me head in the car that night.
I thought about how to reply for a while and decided I needed something creative and funny. I know there are a lot of other ways I could have gone with it, but that seemed like the best thing with Connie.
"Let me guess," I wrote. "The glove compartment door sprang open and hit you in the back of the head and you've been cockeyed ever since, right?"
"That's soooo funny!" Connie wrote back. "I'm STILL laughing!"
That was all she said about it, so I wondered if I should keep the subject alive and, if so, how. Obviously, if I've got a woman talking about blow jobs, I want her to keep right on talking about them. I knew with Connie humor was the key. If I could come up with something funny that didn't seem too eager, she might continue to play along.
"I'm taking my car to the dealership tomorrow and having the glove compartment door removed. Let me know when you're free for dinner again. ;)"
"No cars!" she sent back. "There's just not enough room for me to work my magic! :O" I was tempted to ask exactly what she considered to be her 'magic,' but decided it was still too early for anything so direct. Keep 'em laughing all the way to the microphone.
"Magic?" I asked in my reply. "I thought I was the one with the magic wand."
"What makes you think your wand is magic?" Connie wrote back.
"Well, it knows a lot of card tricks. And it dispenses chocolate flavored treats. Does that count?"
"LOL! You're crazy!" Connie replied. "Chocolate? I doubt that! That's the other problem with cars... no place to spit!" Again I found myself reading her email over several times and getting turned on, this time by the thought of her with a mouthful of cum. I figured I might as well push things a little further.
"Sure it's chocolate!" I emailed back to her. "Don't believe me? See for yourself! Oh, and your 'no place to spit' problem has an obvious solution too!" I didn't know if that was going too far. After all, she was back with her husband. But I rationalized that if she was going to volunteer information about spitting, she couldn't be all that worried about it. Just a little harmless internet flirting, right?
I didn't hear back from her for several days after that, and I figured I had gone too far. Not that I thought Connie would be upset. Like I said, she had a good sense of humor. But that didn't mean she didn't feel a little guilty about talking to me the way she had. It may not have been much, but I imagine her husband would have gotten pissed if he knew. But then I got her reply and it picked up right where we left off.
"Tempting as your 'chocolate dispenser' sounds," Connie wrote, "I'm on a restricted diet... only allowed one source. And no, swallowing is not an option for me! (Baaaarrrrffff!)"
I had to take her 'one source' comment with a grain of salt. Yeah, maybe she was giving her husband another chance, but she was emailing me about blow jobs and swallowing. She didn't seem like a woman who was particularly committed to her diet restrictions. And yes, I was a little disappointed when she told me she didn't swallow. I prefer to find out if a woman swallows by cumming in her mouth. Telling me in advance was like telling me what a present was before I unwrapped it. And it not being what I wanted.
In my reply I didn't address her 'one source' comment. Yeah, we both knew it wasn't going to happen under the current circumstances. Or, at least, it shouldn't. But as long as we didn't remind ourselves about that, we could have some stimulating conversation while keeping the door open for later, should her situation change.
"What?!?!? You don't swallow?!?!?!?" I wrote back. "I'm getting my money back from that dating site!"
"Trust me," came Connie's reply. "If I gave you head, by the time I was done with you, you wouldn't care."
Now I like a woman with confidence and Connie had that. But I don't care how good she is, it would still be better if she swallowed. I said so in my reply. She came back saying no man had ever complained before. DUH! What guy is going to complain about getting a blow job? Better to get one from a woman who spits than not get one at all. I pointed that out to her as well.
"You may be right about other girls," Connie wrote. "But if I gave you the best blow job you've ever had in your life, would you still care if I swallowed?"
"I've had a lot of women suck my cock," I answered. "And some of them were pretty freakin' incredible. What makes you think you'd be the best I ever had?" It seemed like we were past the point where my replies had to be clever and/or funny.
"Well, I've sucked a lot of men's cocks," she shot back. "And almost every one of them has told me I gave them the best head they've ever gotten!"
