Those Autofellatio Blues

As the school year wound down, I got sick and tired of hearing the questions. Well, THE question-namely, "Did you really fuck Bridget Landau?" Bridget was untouchable, unattainable, and the idea that a relative non-entity like myself had fucked her brains out had my classmates questioning the sanity of the Universe. Mere mortals don't couple with goddesses. Not in high school, anyway.

You can only say "no" so many times, and when I finally reached my limit I changed my answer to that particular inquiry to a terse "fuck you". When you say "fuck you" to your best friends they get pissed off. "Fuck you" leads casual acquaintances to think you're a total asshole. And, when directed at selected male members of our species, "Fuck you" are fighting words. As I learned on that particular Tuesday afternoon in study hall, when Michael Panucci slapped a book out of my hands and said, "No way. No fucking way."

I was sitting, he was standing, and I leaned back so he wasn't looming over me. "No way what?"

Panucci was one of the most popular guys in school, handsome, star wide receiver and point guard, an enthusiastic bully. I'd never spoken two words to him in my life. He tried to stare me down with his dark eyes. "No way you stuck it to that bitch. No way she'd bother with a shit like you."

We had an audience, everyone in the auditorium looking at us. No teacher yet sat at the big flat table in front of the stage. I picked up my book and started reading again. Again he slapped it to the floor. "Don't you ignore me, pussy. You show me RESPECT."

Ever since The Sopranos debuted Michael Panucci turned into one of those ridiculous young Italian-Americans who think they're "connected" because their last name ends with a vowel. I knew Mike to be a suburban, white-bread pissant who was less mobbed up than Chef Boy-Ar-Dee, so I wasn't exactly afraid of him. Not anymore, not after all the shit I'd endured the last few months.

So I did something I wouldn't normally have done. I sat back, raised my hands in a plaintive gesture, and said, "Hey, Mikey, no disrespect, but FUUUUUCCCCKKKK YOOOOOOUUUUU!"

I wouldn't be fair to say I got beaten up. Accurate, but not quite fair. First of all, I was beaten DOWN, four guys ganging up on me with punches and kicks that drove me to the floor. And second, although I didn't throw the first punch, or the last, I threw the best. Panucci cuffed me across the face, and I stumbled back out of my seat. He jabbed, caught me on the cheek, and it hurt. It hurt so much I got pissed off. I got so pissed off that, when Michael jabbed again, showboating like Macho Camacho, I threw a straight right cross that caught him square on the nose.

POP! It was loud as someone snapping their fingers. A thin geyser of blood pulsed from his split nose and showered my forearm. He let out a quick, sharp cry, and that's when his buddies fell on me. I turtled, covering my face with my hands and tucking my knees to my belly. Panucci was screaming, screaming, seeing his own blood made him crazy, but before they could really start making sausage a squad of teachers intervened and pulled them off. I staggered to my feet and saw what was, I guiltily admitted, a pleasant sight-Panucci's handsome face sheeted with blood. Blood I had shed.

"You motherfucker!" he shrieked. "You sucker-punched me!" A big mistake on his part-we had scores of witnesses who knew that wasn't true. The lie emboldened me. "You ratting me out Mikey?" I taunted.

"Mother-FUCKER!"

"You ain't so pretty no more!" I crowed.

I was sent to the nurse's office to be treated before moving to the principal's office for whatever punishment awaited. Michael was already en route to the hospital to have his nose set. The nurse swabbed the blood from my arm, gave me ice packs for the various bruises settling in on my arms, back, and thighs. The hand that broke Panucci's nose ached. Actually, my whole body ached, bad. The adrenaline was gone, and I hurt all over.

I was staring at the clock when I sensed a blonde presence in the doorway. I turned my head and there she was, Bridget Landau, the most beautiful girl east of the Mississippi. She wore crisp tan chinos, a pink oxford, and pink lip gloss, in what I guess was her "Little Miss Innocent" costume. In the weeks since our dustup in the cafeteria she hadn't so much as looked at me, but now she sat down and gently touched my cheek with her fingertips. "I thought you'd look a lot worse, after what I heard happened."

Her touch gave me another big dose of adrenaline. "Disappointed?"

She shook her head, and kept touching my face. I said "I bet Panucci looks worse than me."

Her fingers moved to my chin. "I saw them taking him to the hospital. His eyes were already swollen shut."

I could smell her hair and it made my head swim. "Next time I see him I'm taking his ears."

"Do you know why he picked on you today?"

"It was his turn? Everyone's been hounding me ever since, well, you know..."

She nodded. "I know, it's been awful. I mean, Michael asked me to the prom today. I mean, HIM? Can you believe it? The idea that I would, like, go out with a high school kid is just ridiculous."

"Well, you're in high school..."

The contempt in her eyes shut me up. "Danny, don't insult me." She said a name, a name I recognized because he was the left fielder for the Pittsburgh Pirates. "I met him at a game last month. If I wanted, HE would take me to the prom. So do you still think I would bother with a loser like Michael Panucci?"

My hand started throbbing again. "Well, that explains why he came after me. You shoot him down, and he needs to take it out on someone. Me."

"Mm-hmm. Sorry about that."

"Sure."

"Danny, we have a problem. You've got a target painted on your back because every guy in school has a hard-on for me and hates your guts because you...took my virginity." It obviously pained her to admit that.

"I didn't take it, your mother gave to me. Under duress, remember? Remember that dildo she shoved up my ass?"

She waved her hands in my face. "Don't talk about that!"

I sighed. "So everyone hates me. What's your problem?"

Her cheeks flushed red. "No one is AFRAID of me anymore!" she hissed. "You think Michael would have had the guts to ask me out before that scene in the cafeteria? I walk down the hall and girls actually have the courage to look me in the eye! I fucking KNOW they're laughing at me behind my back. And I can't fucking stand it!"

I shrugged, and my shoulder hurt so bad I winced. "So what do we do about it?"

She leaned back and smiled, a girl with a plan. "You and I are going to the prom together."

I violently shook my head back and forth. "I'm sorry, my ears must be ringing. Say that again?"

She nudged over until our legs were touching. "You and I are going to the prom. We're going to pretend to be a couple. We'll go on dates together, hold hands in the hallways, go to the prom and slow dance all night long."

I was THIS close to bursting into tears of joy when she said, "And then, after the prom, I'll dump you."

Again I shook my head. "Wait, what? Dump me? Why?"

"Why? That's the whole fucking point! We pretend to be a couple, all the guys go crazy, and then I totally humiliate you, destroy you utterly, and show everyone that I'm not someone they should think of as their equal. Everyone's afraid of me again."

OK, so I could see her angle. "But what exactly to I get out of it?"

She looked exasperated. "You get everyone thinking that YOU aren't their equal. All your friends, they would give anything to go out with me. After we break up, you tell them whatever you want. You don't have a reputation to worry about, so who gives a shit if you look bad? You get your friends' respect back, and I take back my place on top of the food chain."

I looked into her blue, blue eyes, and tried to figure out what to do. Intellectually, I knew that this whole thing was fucked. Let some girl treat me like garbage just so I could bask in her reflected sunshine? No way.

But...wow, was she beautiful.

What did I FEEL? Lust, certainly. She was sexy beyond words. But it was much more than lust. What I wanted, I decided in a flash of self-awareness, was to stop feeling so inferior to her. Why should I feel like a worm when she walked by, why should I cringe at the sound of her voice? Why was this arrogant girl so far out of my league? When I looked in the mirror and saw a handsome young man. Well, I could see that I had the raw material to be handsome. I was still too skinny, my knees and elbows still my most prominent features, but if I kept putting on weight the way I had the last few months, if I grew into my body and stopped lumbering around like a klutz, then, yes, I might develop into quite a catch.

Elaine certainly liked me. A large number of her friends liked me too. If they liked me mostly because of the thick pink snake slumbering between my legs, well, that was just because they couldn't look past my cock to the total package.

I was sick of my dick. I didn't want sex. I wanted romance. I wanted flirtation and stolen kisses and holding hands under the moonlight. And I wanted those things with Bridget. I wanted her to like me, as an equal. I wanted to be comfortable with her. Fucking her brains out, while appealing, was no longer my goal. What I wanted, what I really wanted, was for her to smile at me. Sex, I could get. A smile...that was a challenge.

"OK, you've got a deal," I said, extending a hand. She took it, and we shook. Then she pulled me closer, closer, and kissed me on the cheek. Her scent engulfed me. Her lips moved to my ear.

"I want you to promise that you'll get your bitch of a mother to leave my mommy alone. It makes me sick, to think of her fucking my mommy up the ass with a dildo."

It didn't make my stomach feel too good either, so I said, "I'll try. I've brought it up before and my mom wouldn't listen, but I promise that I'll try."

"Good," she said, and then she moved so close her breath bathed my ear. "One more thing," she whispered, and her tongue gently probed my ear. "While we're playing our little game, I want you plowing me every night with that big, beautiful cock. I know you want to, and I want you to know that I demand it. When I want it, you give it to me." Her lips closed around my earlobe, her teeth nibbled at me, and I about went into convulsions.

"What's going on here?" a harsh voice demanded behind us. The nurse, coming to check on me.

"Just making sure my honey wasn't hurt too bad," Bridget said with surprising sweetness. She pecked me on the cheek. "Can't a girl be concerned about her boyfriend?"

The nurse was a stout woman in her fifties, and it made me feel a bit insulted to see her goggling at us in disbelief. "You're dating HIM?" she asked.

"Yeah, what's the big deal?" I demanded, putting an arm around Bridget's waist. The nurse went back to her office, shaking her head.

"Good, that was good," Bridget said. When I kissed her on the lips she yanked her head back and said, "But don't push it." With that she turned and left the office without another word.

*****

How does gossip circulate so fast? By the time I got to my seventh period math class, after a stern talking-to from Principal Lester, EVERYONE had heard the news. No longer did people ask if I fucked Bridget. Now they wanted to know if I was taking her to the prom. People practically lined up at my desk, incredulous looks on their annoying faces.

"Yes," I said when they asked the question. It felt nice to say that, the muscles in my face responsible for mouthing "Fuck you" were tired. "Yes, Bridget and I are going to the prom together. Yes, we're dating. Yes, she's a great girl. Yes, I know how lucky I am. Yes, I did sell my soul to Satan."

OK, I didn't admit to that last charge. But it felt good, to be the object of so much envy and jealousy. I enjoyed the attention, I can't deny it.

After class I walked out to my car to find Bridget Landau leaning against the trunk. "This is your car, right?" she asked, with obvious distaste.

"Yup," I said, patting the rusting hood of my 1993 Dodge Spirit. "I bet your ballplayer boyfriend drives a Lexus."

"A Mercedes, thank you."

"Sounds nice."

"Come on, let's go."

"Go where?"

"To my house, for Christ's sake! So we can fuck!"

So we can fuck. The sexiest, juiciest girl I've ever seen wants me to have sex with her. If I had sex with Bridget, I knew I'd be finished. I'd be a hooked fish, to be reeled in whenever she wished. If I wanted to reach my goal, if I wanted to make Bridget Landau like and respect me, I had to somehow resist this girl's omnipotent charms.

"I can't." I said.

"You what?" she said. A voice from between my legs said, "Yeah, you WHAT?"

"I'm sore all over, I feel like crap."

"You just have to fucking lie there! Just get hard and I'll do the rest."

Be strong, buddy, my intellect said. "I'm sorry, Bridget. Tomorrow, OK?"

Her glossy lips twitched. "Tomorrow, for sure." She stalked off.

I drove maybe a hundred yards when I had to pull over. I had an erection that could have penetrated reinforced concrete, and it was causing considerable discomfort in my jeans. I released myself, and I resumed driving with my cockhead smearing syrup over the steering wheel.

I needed relief, and fast. I didn't feel like going home. Sucking myself off seemed such a poor alternative compared to having sex with Bridget Landau. The car seemed to drive itself, knowing where I truly wanted to go. Fifteen minutes I pulled into Elaine's driveway. I hoped and prayed my mother's swinging friend was home. Elaine's gentle touch had soothed me on so many occasions, and now more than ever I wanted to see her kind, lovely face, and touch her soft, curvy body.

The gods smiled upon me, she was home. When she opened the door she said, "Danny, it's so nice...honey! What happened to your face?"

"Got in a fight. Can I come in?"

"Of course you...Danny!" Elaine's eyes had finally come to rest on my groin, where my dick still stuck out of my pants. "You can't walk around like that!"

"Then let me in!" She let me step into the foyer and I busied my hands with the zipper on her shorts. "I'm sorry, I need your help right now."

"What kind of help?" she asked, obviously amused. Her smile vanished when I pulled down her silky white panties and buried my face in her pussy. I looked up between her plump breasts and saw her eyes close with pleasure. "What's got into you, darling?"

I licked and sucked at her crotch until I was sure she was moist and loose and ready for me. I stood and pushed her toward the stairs. "I like this, you're so forceful!" she cooed. Her tone changed when I grabbed her hips and speared her with my erection. I stood two steps below her and had the right angle and height to fuck her standing up.

"Danny, oh, baby, OH!" I held her tight and fucked Elaine with long, smooth strokes, feeling her slippery tunnel caress every nerve ending on my cock. Elaine's big breasts swung back and forth as I thrust into her, her dark red hair washing about her creamy shoulders with every stroke. I was overexcited, overstimulated by Bridget Landau, and Elaine's delighted moans and cries brought me to the edge after only a few dozen strokes.

"Oh, oh, no, I..." I started to come, and I couldn't stop it. I buried myself inside Elaine's pussy and my big dick flowed over with semen. "Ahhhhh!" I groaned, and leaned my weight against Elaine's well-cushioned posterior. I relaxed a bit, and then I felt Elaine's trained vaginal muscles knead my exhausted penis.

"Uhh!" I groaned. The tip of my cock was supersensitive after my orgasm, and the grinding of her pussy had me squirming.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this quickie?" Elaine asked, looking at me over my shoulder and smiling. "Its not like you to shoot so fast. Am I so sexy that you can't control yourself?"

"Uh-huh," I mumbled, using my finger to wipe away a lone drop of sweat that ran down Elaine's back to the crack of her ass.

She squeezed me again and I let out a yelp. "Bullshit," she laughed. "I think you have some explaining to do."

After we disengaged and dressed, I told her about my day, from my fight with Panucci to the deal I'd made with Bridget. I could tell from her expression that she wasn't thrilled with the arrangement.

"Do you love this girl, honey?" Elaine asked.

"No." I explained that what I wanted was Bridget's respect. "I know that sounds stupid."

"No, no, it doesn't." She touched my arm. "Sometimes I'm so proud of you. I worry sometimes that all the fucking you do with me and my friends might hurt you in some way, turn you into some pathetic pussy-chasing heel. But I think you might end up all right."

"Thanks," I said. "But what do I do?"

"Well, you're mother isn't going to like it, not at all."

"She won't have a choice. I'll handle her," I said, with more confidence than I felt. My mother and Bridget's mother Julia were involved in one of those dominant-submissive relationships that are apparently all the rage these days among suburban housewives. Julia was the woman who popped my cherry, who had fucked me up the ass while I deflowered Bridget, all before she knew that my mom was the woman who had played the master to Julia's slave when they all swung together twenty years before. Mom...she was going to be difficult.

"What about Bridget?"

Elaine smiled, and it was one of those, "here comes the bad news" smiles. "You have to be very careful of her. She's Julia's daughter, remember that. She has that streak in her, she's not afraid to do...unpleasant things to people."

"She's her mother's daughter, I know that. And I know she hates what my mom is doing her Julia."

Elaine nodded. "Remember that. She may have an ulterior motive in all this." She tapped her finger against her teeth. "Well, there's one thing you can't do if you want this to work out."

"What?"

"You can't have sex with her."

I sighed. "I figured that."

"It's the only card you have to play. If you give her that, you have no leverage." While she spoke, Elaine reached between my legs and caressed me. "Do you think you can resist her?"

"It's gonna be hard," I said as she unzipped me.

"Yes, it is." She may have been talking about my dick, which was erect again as she pulled my boxers down to my ankles. She kissed the big helmet, a long, wet kiss, and then she put me in her mouth. She fellated me head slowly, her head slowly traversing the length of my penis, her brown eyes staring up at me.

"Is this to help me concentrate?" I breathed.

She lifted my shaft clear of her lips and let her tongue play with the sensitive ridge just under my glans. "I'm testing a theory."

Her warm hand jerked me off while her tongue slithered up and down my prodigious length. Her fingernails played with the hair around my testicles as she licked me and pumped me.

"Honey, come in my mouth," she murmured. "Come in my mouth. I want to feel you shoot in my mouth." She wrapped her lips around my cockhead and corkscrewed her mouth and hand down my shaft, loud wet slurping sounds coming from her lips. I felt that delicious increase of pressure in my balls. "I already felt you spurt between my legs, I want to feel you spurt between my lips."

After all these months of fooling around, Elaine knew how to get me off. Her nails tickled me around the anus, her tongue played with my cockhead, and I started hunching my hips. "I think this theory merits more study," I panted.

She was really going now, her tits jiggling inside her blouse as she gnawed on my stick. Lips and tongue and fingers worked together to make me climax. "Make it wet and sticky in my mouth," was the last thing she said before I blew my load. My asschecks twisted in my seat as I came to that point of no return. "Oh, Elaine, suck me, suck..." I clenched my buttocks and "OHHH!" I poured myself into Elaine's loving mouth. She purred with delight as she swallowed several mouthfuls of my come.