Those Autofellatio Blues

In the two weeks that followed my unusual defloration I existed in a state as close to Heaven as I'm likely to get without actually snuffing it. During that fantastic fortnight I had lots and lots and LOTS of sex. All the women in Elaine's group wanted to experience the big thing between my legs, and I of course was too polite to deny them. You've heard the expression, "Happier than a pig in shit"? That was me.

There's an old maxim that too much of anything is bad for you. I understand the point of the saying, but at the time you'd be hard-pressed to convince me that sex wasn't the exception to the rule. The women I was screwing were all much older than me, and if they all weren't candidates to be Maxim's next cover girl, they were all very attractive. And very eager to enjoy my .01-percentile penis.

It was a dream come true. Go to Elaine's, fuck my brains out, go home. No more having to suck my own cock-I had much better ways to expend my sexual energy I did it in every position in the book, with two, three women at a time. Usually I would fuck one lovely lady while another played with my balls or rimmed my sensitive asshole. They spoiled me rotten. They let me rut like a buck in a herd of does. That their husbands didn't mind a horse-cocked teenager piledriving their wives either speaks to their generosity or their stupidity.

Of all Elaine's friends, my favorite was Crystal, a rather roly-poly woman with curly blonde hair and long, dragon-lady fingernails. She was about 44, and I'd wager that was her bra size as well. Crystal was a bit heavy, but she wasn't fat and slovenly. Not at all. Her body was lush and soft and she carried her extra weight with a grace the hardbodies I went to school with should have emulated. She wasn't the least self-conscious about her body, which made her even sexier in my hormone-addled eyes.

She always smelled great, always had her makeup just so, and she always wore bright red lipstick that she liked to leave behind in lip prints all over my body. And Crystal always treated me with genuine affection, instead of just looking at me as a thrusting machine. She always greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and then hugged me to her perfumed bosom

When Elaine told her about my severe fingernail fetish Crystal looked me in the eye and took my face in her expertly manicured hands. "Oh, then you and I will have lots of fun with them. Why do you think I spend so much time making my nails look so beautiful?" And every time she was there during my visits she tantalized me with her long nails. "Do you like this nail polish?" she asked me one time, showing her shiny crimson talons.

"I love it." I stuttered.

She had me lie down on the bed and unzipped me, and then slowly slipped her hand inside my opened fly. I felt her fingernails lightly grazing my hard-on. "Tickle tickle."

She must have felt my cock swell like a ballpark frank at the word "tickle", because she got a devilish gleam in her blue eyes. She got up and went over to Elaine and whispered something in her ear, and when Elaine came over she was trying to suppress a smile. "Time to chain you up, honey."

"What?" I said as Elaine cuffed one wrist, and then another, to the bed. I never resisted Elaine when she restrained me, trusting that she wouldn't do anything I wouldn't like. She and Crystal pulled off my pants and boxers before strapping my legs down.

"Oh honey, you're huge," Crystal said as she straddled me. But she didn't straddle my groin. She settled herself over my stomach, her weight helping to immobilize me. "So, honey, where are you ticklish?"

Oh my God. The idea of this woman digging at me with her inch-long nails had me trembling with desire. "Nowhere," I squeaked.

"Hmm...well, I'll have to make sure of that." She raised her hands before my face and twiddled her fingers, her the polish of her nails gleaming in the light. She smiled. "I know. Your underarms." Her hands moved to my armpits and her nails delicately went to work tickling the tender skin there. It felt heavenly, but it didn't tickle.

"No?"

I shook my head. She moved off my tummy and went down to my manacled feet. The soles of my feet were totally exposed, totally vulnerable. Elaine was watching me with a mischievous grin on her face. Crystal raked her nails up and down my feet, along my toes, along my instep. It felt so heavenly that I groaned with ecstasy, but I didn't burst into hysterical giggles.

"That's not it either," Crystal said. "Oh come now, just tell me."

"No way."

Her creamy red lips curled in a thoughtful pout. Her eyes roved over my body. She looked between my thighs. She looked at my ribs. She looked at my tummy. Somehow, I gave it away. Somehow, she was able to sense the truth. Maybe I twitched, or gave off some kind of nervous vibe that only sexy, busty women with fingernails can detect. But detect it she did.

"Your tummy..."

I shook my head. "No."

She nodded to herself. "Yes." She took her time sliding across the bed to my side. "All that soft, exposed flesh."

"I'm not ticklish there, really." The apprehension in my voice was palpable.

She looked at me and wrinkled her nose like a bunny rabbit. "Let's see."

Her nails skated across my stomach and I shrieked with laughter. "No!! Please, stop!" I screamed in a combination of delight and horror. Crystal was laughing almost as hard as me as my quivering stomach endured the ruthless tickling of her long fingernails.

I jigged and squirmed like a gaffed fish, trying in vain to escape the relentless scraping of her nails on my overexcited nerve endings. Crystal kept repeating, "Tickle tickle tickle!" as she tortured me. I was laughing and crying so hard I could barely breathe.

After one especially violent spasm Crystal stopped her assault. "You keep squirming like that and I might break a nail! I have to keep you still. And I know the perfect way to do just that."

She rose up, squatted over what was now an iron-hard erection, and slowly, slowly, slid down the entire length of my penis. She must have loved tickling me because she was so wet we made a loud sucking sound as we coupled.

"Oh, yeah," she groaned as she settled herself on me. The tip of my cock was deep inside her warm, wet nest. It felt like heaven.

And then she resumed torturing me. Her fingers shot out and flailed at my sensitive stomach. I started shaking and twisting and my frantic writhings provided enough motion to make my cock slid in and out of her pussy. Crystal smiled dreamily as she used her nails to play me like a piano, stroking and scratching and tickling me into paroxysms of laughter.

We were bouncing together now, Crystal's big tits bouncing like overripe melons, her slippery vagina squeezing and caressing every inch of my dick. I knew she was coming when she stopped tickling me for a minute in which she threw her head back, cupped her breasts in her hands, and used her weight to use the bed as a trampoline, boinging up and down faster and faster until she moaned, "Ohhh, yes! Oh honey, you feel so big and hard inside me! Oh, yeah!!"

When her climax ended she immediately resumed tickling me, and I resumed going nuts. I had to come, if only to make Crystal stop torturing me. Elaine came to my rescue. She moved in behind Crystal and used her own long nails to tickle my balls and play with my ass. That did it. I screamed, I cried, I laughed, I begged, I came. I came longer and harder than I had in my fucking life. I was almost hyperventilating as my penis erupted deep inside her and I filled her with a pint of my hot creamy come.

I could hear my heart beating in my ears. My hands were trembling. My come was dribbling out of Crystal and soaking my already sopping wet pubic hair. I was so exhausted I felt like I'd just sprinted five miles.

"You liked that, honey?" Crystal asked.

"Oh yes," I burbled. "Please, please, don't ever do that to me again."

*****

Julia, the gorgeous and scary woman I lost my virginity to, was often waiting for me at Elaine's, her skirt hiked up and her panties tucked away in her purse. She was not affectionate and sweet like Crystal. "Take your pants off! What the fuck are you waiting for!" was a typical greeting. Julia may have been insane and potentially dangerous, but she was drop-dead gorgeous and fucked like a tigress in heat. I was able to keep her somewhat at bay because of her lust for my endowment, but every time we finished copulating there was something angry and feral in her eyes. I knew she hated the fact that this skinny, otherwise unremarkable kid had a hold on her.

One night, after Elaine and I did it doggy-style and I pulled out and poured myself out all over her back, I asked her if Julia ever inquired about me. Asked any personal questions about me. Like, where I lived, or, more ominously, what my last name was. That would be ominous because if she learned my last name is Payton she might realize that my father is Bill Payton, who used to swing with their group before I was born and was also a legendary swordsman.

I didn't want my dad to know what I was up to, and I was pretty sure my mother didn't want him to know either. Even though my mom knew that I was getting laid with Elaine, I didn't want her to know about Julia. My mom was a swinger once herself, but I didn't want to take a walk down that particular memory lane with her. Imagining my mother getting double-penetrated while sucking off a third guy was not good for my digestion.

"So, Julia still doesn't know about me?" I asked.

"Mmm, no," she cooed as I sponged my issue off her back.

"She still scares me."

"She's mostly bark, but she does have a bit of a bite. She can be spiteful. Just keep your distance from her and you'll be fine."

"Keep my distance? I fuck her almost every other day."

"You know what I mean. So long as she doesn't know your last name, doesn't know where you go to school, doesn't see you outside of this house, you'll be fine. And be sure that you do. She wants that cock all for herself, I know it."

"I'd never let that happen."

She reached back between my legs and fondled me. "I hope not."

In seconds I was back to half-mast. "Do you have the energy for some more?"

She closed her eyes, and rose up again on all fours, pressing her ass against my crotch. "I hope so."

With my penis buried in Elaine's humid tunnel, the bed squeaking rhythmically, our sighs and moans more from contentment than passion, it was easy for me to forget about Julia. Except at the end, when I felt that wonderful tickle deep inside me and I screwed Elaine with such gusto that her asscheeks rippled from the impact of my thighs. I crammed every inch of myself inside her and let my orgasm erupt into her womb. She shrieked and twisted her hips as my cock trembled and twitched. When I finished she collapsed forward on the bed with exhaustion.

She said, "I don't think I'll ever get used to that, how it feels when you come in me."

"I hope you don't get tired of me."

"Don't worry about that. I don't think that could ever happen." She rolled over and got to her feet. She winced. "Though we might need stop fucking twice in a row. I'm so sore it's like I went galloping bareback."

"Hey, let's try that next time. You can ride me like a big stallion."

She gave me a look. "Don't get cocky."

But I was cocky, I was a big stallion, a wild, untamed beast, running with the herd and mounting any mare that caught my eye. And if you think that sentiment is sexist and disgusting, then be of good cheer, because that was the last day I ever felt that cocksure. I should have known the good times would come to an end. I couldn't have known they would end the next day.

*****

That Friday night I wasn't able to enjoy my harem because I was appearing in my high school's talent show. Not by choice-I was shanghaied into playing a bit part in a skit some moron jocks were putting on. I got the part because I was the only guy in school who could both fit in the unusually large bear costume and be cajoled into making a fool of myself. The costume was the only good part about the gig-my face and identity was totally hidden. I had to saunter across the stage, take a simulated dump, and then walk away. Then the alleged hilarity began. I watched the skit during their only rehearsal and it was dreadful. I was the funniest thing in it. Not that I had any talent. Well, I did have one unusual skill that would certainly get people out of their seats, but blowing myself on stage wasn't likely to improve my social standing.

I'm sure you've either gone to such a show or even performed in one. You've probably been quite surprised that some of your classmates have real talent, can really sing or dance or tell jokes. Not my school. A bigger collection of tone-deaf, two-left-footed, and flop-sweat-inducing dullards has never been assembled. We all sucked. It was like going to then dentist with 500 people at the same time.

The worst act, I mean the absolute WORST, was, quite unbelievably, Bridget Landau. I didn't even know she was performing until the night of the show, not having seen her at rehearsal. She could have walked across the stage in a burlap sack and gotten an ecstatic standing ovation. But someone, somehow, put it into Bridget's pretty head that hers was a talent that had to be shared with the world. And, God help us all, she showed us her stuff.

She came out on stage wearing a pink vinyl microminiskirt, a white tank top that might as well have been sprayed on, and high heels with little ruffled socks. Had I been a cop, and had I been sitting in the audience, I would have gotten up and arrested her for public indecency.

She did an original dance routine while singing Britney Spears' opus, "Oops, I Did it Again". Compared to Bridget's keening yet oddly uninflected screech, Ms. Spears is Cecilia Bartoli. Bridget's dancing, a combination of girlish skipping, simulated masturbation, and what I think was the hula, was like watching a dozen cars pile into each other one-by-one. I was watching from the wings and could look out at the audience as they watched, and saw aghast faces staring back. It was like that scene in "The Producers", where everyone is watching the showgirls goose-stepping to "Springtime for Hitler".

When she finished it was a good five seconds before the first polite applause broke the silence. Then the crowd joined in, I think out of relief that it was all over.

Bridget pranced off-stage as though she'd just won the Grammy for Best Singer Ever. Everyone backstage was just like me, appalled. She sashayed past without paying our horrified faces the least bit of attention, the opinions of mindless drones like us counting for nothing.

Good thing she didn't ask. "My God, did she suck," said Josh, one of the other guys in my skit.

I nodded. "I never thought she could do anything to make her seem unattractive, but she just pulled it off."

"What the hell was she thinking?"

"Who knows? My ears are still ringing."

"I might go cut my ears off." He walked away.

When the show was over we all went on stage for a final bow. I put the head of my costume back on to preserve my anonymity. I wanted my name connected as little as possible with this particular fiasco. We acknowledged the applause and then went backstage to accept the congratulations of friends and family. Not me, however. After describing the acts I'd seen in rehearsal my parents decided to give the show a miss. I wandered around, still in costume, sweating more and more in the crush of people. I wanted to change, get out of there, and take a shower.

I'd changed in the boys locker room, and I made my way to the door in the back of the auditorium. It was really crowded, and intolerably hot. I pulled the head off my costume and I took several cool, delicious breaths. As I bobbed and weaved I heard a horrible shriek. "Mommy! Daddy!" Bridget ran by me like I wasn't even there. I turned to see her jump into the arms of a man who looked like Robert Redford on a good hair day. I thought, so, that's where she gets her good looks.

"Wasn't I wonderful?" Bridget asked. Her father was as good an actor as Redford, because he beamed and said, "Yes you were, angel!" and managed to look like he meant it. They broke their embrace and Bridget said, "Mommy, was I as good as you said I would be?"

I couldn't see Bridget's mommy, obscured as she was by her husband, and I was curious to see what the hottest girl in the world's mother looked like. Papa moved to the side and Bridget hugged the woman who had borne her 18 years before.

If you've been reading these stories you've probably figured out who Bridget's mother was. But I was actually in the middle of all this, and didn't have to chance to think about it too hard. So while you might not be surprised, you better believe that I was.

It was Julia. Julia, who had butt-fucked me with a strap-on dildo. Julia, who had demanded and gotten my cherry. Julia, who Elaine had warned me to stay away from.

Julia, who was staring at me with eyes wide as hen's eggs.

I gulped. I took a quick step back. I shoved my head back inside the furry head. When I looked through the tiny holes I saw Julia advancing on me. "I have to use the Ladies Room," I heard her say. She came at me like a wolf after a rabbit with a sprained ankle.

I tried to run away. But there were too many people for me to fight through wearing a goddam bear suit. When I finally broke through the crowd and made it out into the empty hallway Julia was almost caught up to me. I ran to the stairs and started down, hoping she wouldn't see me.

It wasn't my lucky day. "You'd better fucking stop!" she hissed. Her voice echoed down into the cement bowels of the school.

I stopped, unable to resist her command. I heard her heels go "click-click-click" as she walked down the steps. And then there she was, wearing a white suit jacket and a white miniskirt that showed her shapely legs. Her hair was down, flowing down over her shoulders. She looked absolutely stunning. I could see the resemblance now, in the eyes, the cheekbones. The legs.

She strode up to me and ripped off my mask. "So, you go to school with my little girl. Isn't that a wonderful coincidence?"

I was shaking inside my furry suit. "I won't tell her about you and me, I promise."

She laughed, and there was no humor in it. "Oh, I'm not worried about what you might tell her. But you should be worried about what I might tell her."

"What would you tell her?" I squeaked.

"Oh, I could tell her about that dirty thing you do to yourself with your mouth. I could tell her how I heard you like to suck yourself off, swallow your own come. I think that would make for some very interesting conversations in these hallways."

"Please, Julia, don't," I begged.

She grabbed at the zipper in the back of my suit and pulled it down. She yanked it down around my waist. "Where's the bathroom?" she hissed.

"Down here."

She literally dragged me there, the suit around my ankles. I was only wearing boxer shorts, and when we were inside the women's bathroom Julia forced me into the big handicapped stall. "From now on," she said, "your cock belongs to me. You don't fuck anyone else. Not Elaine, not those cows she calls friends, not your girlfriend, if you have one. That big prick is mine."

"Bridget and your husband will be waiting for you," I said, hoping she would leave.

She didn't. She pulled open her big leather purse and pulled out something I didn't recognize. It was a series of leather straps. I didn't comprehend until she unzipped and stepped out of her skirt, hanging it from the hook on the door. Then she stepped into the leather harness. She reached in her bag and pulled out a big, purple, anatomically correct dildo.

"No!" I begged. She fitted the dildo in the opening in the harness, and the jellified prang wobbled between her legs. "You carry that around in your purse?" I asked, incredulous.