"I suppose someone, somewhere, got the first ever blow job. I mean sex is for procreation, right? Essentially, that's what it is for. So, logic follows that at one point in human history there was a time before the trimmings were added. Yeah?"
Harvey wasn't looking for an answer, but I nodded my head anyway, trying not to look as if I was in a rush, which I was. We were sitting in his flat on the sofa facing each other.
"So, if you think about it, our old Homo Erectus," Harvey emphasised the 'erect' part and smirked at his clever wordplay. I didn't smirk back. "would pop behind a bush with Mrs Homo Erectus, a quick bit of how's yer father -- junk deposited and off out again before the sabre-toothed tiger could get 'em."
I nodded slowly again. Where was this going?
"Foreplay was a waste of time and dangerous."
Most men still think that way, I thought, but chose not to say.
"You know, they say that our early ancestors did it doggy style." Like many of his peer group -- and by peer group I mean very capable men in one way but who hugely sexually awkward, Harvey always called sex, fucking, making love, having a shag as 'doing it'. Quite sweet really.
"That way she could look out ahead for danger and he was high enough up to spring to life if danger appeared. Missionary, for example, would be shit and as for girl on top..." Harvey paused and smiled at something going through his mind. I merely suspected that we had now exhausted Harvey's list of sexual positions.
"Well," he recovered his train of thought, "They'd all be pretty fucking useless. Wouldn't they? Anyway. One day, Mr Homo Erectus or maybe Mr Homo Sapiens was feeling particularly safe from the sabre tooth tiger danger and was enjoying watching the way Mrs Homo Sapiens was sucking on a twig, or a leaf or bone or something and thought to himself eh up, by gum I'd like her noshing action around my tackle."
Why he thought early man spoke in Yorkshire vernacular was beyond me. Probably thought it was funny.
"And the point is Mrs Homo Sapiens had never done it before. In fact, no one in the whole fucking tribe had done it before, or the tribe in the next valley. Or anyone in any tribe anywhere. So, he then got not just his first ever b.j. but THE first ever b.j. and because it was so awesome, he told all his mates. 'Hey guys, guess what you need to try?'. Yeah? What do you think Sal?"
I looked at his beaming I'm-so-clever smile and sighed.
"Listen Harv, do you want me to suck your fucking cock now or not?"
"Oh, yes, sorry Sal of course." He stood up quickly and started to get ready - he undid his belt and moved to his zip.
I got on my knees in front of him and pushed his hand gently away. I looked up at him open mouthed in anticipation now looking down. "allow me..."
I unzipped him and pulled his trousers and boxers down together to reveal a bouncing out semi-stiff cock. I took it in my right hand and looked him in the eye again,
"Relax babe." I said. He nodded enthusiastically.
Then, still looking him in the eye I peeled my top down to allow my tits to also bounce into play. I was still holding his eye, and his cock was now fully stiff as he took in the sight below him.
"Mm mm..." I said as I started to fondle my chest as I stroked his cock. I didn't get any particular enjoyment from touching my own boobs. I mean, it's not unpleasant but you can't tickle yourself either. I played with my nipple, making it erect. That was for his entertainment too, although that is quite a nice sensation, even when self-aroused.
Still holding his eye, I moved my mouth over his cock and took it all in. Harvey wasn't massive, but wasn't small -- he pretty much had the perfect mouth size for a blowjob. He groaned and his mouth opened ever wider as he was transfixed by what he was watching and what he was feeling. I hate to brag, but I am super-hot and when sucking cock is an Olympic sport, I am a stick on for Team GB.
I knew how to work it. I had my left hand between my legs now, pretending to play with myself and was making appropriate mouth-full-and-horny noises. I was moving my mouth up and down the shaft, full tongue rolling whilst squeezing his cock with my right hand and my tits were bouncing in what I imagined was a delightful way with my body movement. It was a virtuoso performance. He took it all in, eyes getting wider.
I knew it would not take long, and I was right; the train had reached its destination. Harvey broke eye contact and looked up, which he always did when he reached his climax, and his cock jerked hard and filled my mouth. Harvey may have had an unspectacular cock, but my god that boy could cum. It just kept flowing out, and I kept swallowing. Part of the service.
"Oh my God, Sal," he said, "that was amazing!"
I went back to sit on the sofa and wiped my mouth with a tissue and smiled. "Good, I'm pleased." I meant it too. I didn't bother covering up the puppies, as I knew that Harvey, more than anyone else enjoyed talking to them, and Harvey really was a sweet boy. He was tucking himself back in and then he sat down beside me, trying to look like he wasn't staring at my tits. He was staring right at them, despite having just climaxed. Some people.
"How's class going?" He asked as if he were a caring boyfriend.
"Good thanks, babe" I replied, now getting myself covered up and dressed again, "although I am late with an essay on international contract law, and that is massively freaking me."
"Oh yeah," he said, "listen I did a load of that last year, so if you want anything, you know, just ask. I'd love to help."
"Thanks." I said and gave him my best grateful smile. I kissed his cheek.
I would ask him too. Harvey was final year and I was second year - both doing Law at Manchester University. He was cruising for a first-class honours and I knew his offer to help was genuine. He was straight up and down that way, and he'd helped before.
Harvey was also desperate to fuck me. He never would of course, and I tried ever so hard not to use this power over him, but it was so difficult when he was so keen to help. I just would never, ever fancy this oh so serious, tall angular and unfortunate looking guy no matter how nice he was to me. I suppose that was a bit sad, but I knew a lot of Harveys.
"I'll text you over the weekend, if that's ok?" I said.
"Sure, yeah, great." he replied. I kissed his head this time and stood up. He looked up at me, with a slightly sad longing in his eyes. Boy, he fancied me so much. I couldn't blame him.
"Don't forget the PayPal bit..." I said breezily as I left. Harvey never did. None of the Horny Geek Club ever did, but I made sure to always remind them. The money would be with me before I left the apartment block.
I had a good thing going with the Horny Geek Club. That's why I was with Harvey and it was what I spent quite a few evenings doing. I was giving blowjobs for cash to get me through uni. Technically you could say I was a hooker, a whore, a prostitute, a lady of the night, or whatever euphemism you'd care to choose. Except, you couldn't because the Horny Geek Club was a private members club and I was in control. You simply wouldn't ever know that I sucked cock up to five times a week to help me get my law degree. Anyway, I could tell myself they were all just rich horny, geeky friends if I wanted to.
It had started in my first year. I had been working double shifts in a bar and studying full time. It was hard.
The shitshow of my finances had started as soon as I left home in Surry for university in Manchester. My family had never been well off, but we got by. Lower middle-class family of four, semi-detached house and a dog sort of family. It was when my dad and mum split at the start of my first year of university things got bad. I guess they waited until I left the house, which was a bit shit of them. I wasn't sad about the split, or anything like that, the truth is they were proper rubbish together and made my little brother miserable, but something in their break-up just put the family finances underwater. Trouble is the calculation for my tuition grant had already been made, and to stay, I had to pay. Law in Manchester doesn't come cheap.
I didn't make the conscious decision to get on my knees for cash at that stage. God no. I made the decision to work full time, study like the swotty bitch I was and tough it out. So, I did. Double shifts and lectures. I'm resilient, but that was killing me. Law is no part time course and working in a student bar six nights a week until 2am was the only way I could work and be free for my lectures. I was always exhausted. I was falling asleep in lectures and I was permanently grumpy. I was failing and my friends were worried.
Then the opportunity of sucking for cash just sort of fell into my lap.
I was working one night, and this guy Martin was hitting on me again at the end of the bar. Martin was a bit of a dick, but harmless enough, and funny sometimes. He was easily 20 stone and although he may have been handsome once, it was now hard to tell. He wore thick rimmed glasses and drank a lot. In a way, it was quite sad, as he probably had few friends and the bar really wasn't the answer to his self-esteem issues, but there he was.
He was crazy about me. I could tell for two reasons. One, the way he always talked to me, and no one else who worked there. I figured he somehow knew my shifts because he was always there when I was. Maybe, of course, that's because I was always there, though. Secondly, as I have already said, I am absolutely smoking hot. I really am.
First off. Stunningly pretty. I'm not going to do false modesty here, but I am pretty without make-up and I make damn sure I always have the right make-up. If being pretty is in the locker, no point in keeping it there. At that time, my dark brown hair was long. If you were writing a romance book you would say it tumbled over my shoulders like a cascade of brunette delight, or some shit. Because it did. Halfway down my back, lustrous and gorgeous. It's shorter now, which is a bit sad. Frankly though, tumbling hair was just getting in the way when I was concentrating on getting a guy off. My hairdresser was mystified at my desire for a new, shorter look. I couldn't really say it makes giving blowjobs a little less hassle, could I?
Next, I have a great body. I'm 5ft 7, which I've always thought is the perfect height for a girl who has a thing for tall men. Which I do. In heels I am just slightly smaller than any boyfriend I have ever had or would ever have. I am generally very picky when it comes to men but being tall is the only box that must absolutely be ticked in boyfriend qualifying material. Tall for my eye turns out to be about 6ft 2. I am slender, and yet I have been blessed with some great curves. Perfect I would say, and of course back then I had no need to work out as I was always on my feet and frankly hardly had time to eat. I work out a bit now, no point in letting all that excellent starting position go to waste.
In a package that is frankly overall top drawer there is one bit that is world class. My boobs are just incredible. (I'm past pretending to be humble, and they are incredible. I always pay attention to tits on the tele and there isn't a film star comes close to me.) If I were ever asked in one of those totally shit but engrossing TV dating shows I would answer that they are definitely my favourite bit of my body. "I like my boobs the best, because they would point the way to heaven for you." I would say coyly. Large enough, D cup, and they sit firm and proud. I have no chance of holding a pencil under them for quite some time. I like that they are not massive, so I just don't look like a top-heavy Barbie. I am proportioned nicely, you might say. Also, when I go into class, a large sweater makes sure I don't get too much of that gauping attention. In fact, in class, with my hair scraped back, no make-up and baggy clothes, I just look like girl-next-door-I-bet-she-is-super-hot-when-she-tries ordinary. Ordinary(ish).
I know that all sounds incredibly vain, but I'm not really. It's just I'm being very honest here, and the truth is I look good. Nothing whatsoever wrong with that, or with knowing it. I'm not a dick about it, though. The only thing worse than girls who are dicks about their looks, are boys who are dicks about their looks. It is a genuine shame but that includes pretty much every rugby player I have ever known.
(However, I am not just a body, and woe betide any boy who thinks I am tits and ass with a pretty cocksucking face. I'm doing a fucking law degree and I got 4 As at A level. So, fuck you.)
