I drove home rather distracted. I had just sucked the juice out of my brother’s bone. Not once but twice I’d sucked his dick. And though I was thoroughly disgusted, it was nearly the most erotic experience of my life. The honor for most erotic experience still rested firmly with my unbelievably sensuous college girlfriend. She had made me cum in ways no woman had since. We had made each other cum as our world shook with passion so deeply shared it beggars for words to describe it. And yet my world trembled a little as big brother unloaded in my mouth for my first taste of boy goo.
After closing the door behind me, I went straight to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and tongue before using nearly half a bottle of mouth wash. I tossed the toothbrush in the trash, opened a new one. I knew I was being silly, but it was still a bit disgusting, that thought of the first cum stream hitting the back of my throat and I had swallowed it like some two bit BJ whore.
I walked to the kitchen, my own tool stiff from the memory and aching for release. As disgusted as I was, somewhere deep inside I knew I’d do it again because my brother needed me to. I could get him a whore, but with his luck she’d give him a nasty disease and he’d end up back in the hospital. I opened the refrigerator, pulled out a 40, opened it, knocked back a deep draught, then headed for the living room after pulling a second 40 out of the frig as the first was nearly drained.
I sat down at the computer, wrote an account of what happened and posted it on my favorite adult fiction site. Again I was aroused at the memory of my first time giving head, the steel hard satin soft flesh of my older brother’s inflamed member slipping in and out of my mouth, the feel of my tongue brushing the underside the way men love, his blowing his full nut in my eagerly sucking mouth, the gooiness of the cum as it trickled down my throat. It wasn’t my best writing, I was too eager to share my shame, to share the sheer erotica of the whole thing.
Sitting in my recliner, I was about to release little Willy C from his captivity in my pants. He’d been having bad thoughts, needed spanked until he cried from his single eye. I was surprised to find myself thinking of my girlfriend instead of what just happened as my hand reached down of its own volition. With belt unbuckled but zipper and button still in place, I heard the sound of a key in the front door. My girlfriend was home.
Against the sunlight streaming in behind her, her flaxen colored hair shimmered. The way she tossed her briefcase told me I was in for an hour of whining from the youngest woman ever to be made partner in the law firm. Sure enough, she began telling me what bastard liars lawyers are. I made a mental note to forget fixing dinner, we’d be eating out. I didn’t know how true that would be.
As she rambled on, I collected her in my arms and lightly kissed her lips. Not passionately, just that little lingering kiss which tells a woman she’s been missed and is dearly loved. I briefly wondered if she could taste cum on my lips, mentally slapped myself for being silly. She had on one of her midnight black “power” suits, a pantsuit almost cut for a man. I helped her out of her jacket, revealing the silky translucence of her blouse. I could clearly see the whiteness of her lace trimmed slip underneath, the jaunty protrusion of her boyish breasts pushed up and padded by a bra of miracles. Leading her to the couch, I seated her then kneeled at her feet to pull her four inch heeled shoes from her most certainly sore feet. She always liked it when I did that, when I pamper her, and she was smiling as I stood.
I went to the kitchen and returned with a wine glass full to the brim. She sighed contently after taking a sip as I set just behind her. She kept rambling as I firmly but gently massaged her shoulders, neck, and temples. Soon she tilted her head back, crimson colored lips seeking a kiss. My hands cupped her breasts through the layers of fabric, my fingertips tracing little circles on breasts and nipples. She squirmed a bit; my hands sought the buttons on her blouse.
A step back in time: My best friend from junior high onward was a beautiful lesbian. Through the years she taught me how to make love to a woman as only a woman knows how to. How to use lightest feather caress to when one should pinch, twist, pull, and turn. She taught me how to read a woman’s responses to my touch, how to guide the woman up the slow hill to her first orgasm, how to sustain it and draw it out into a second or even third. I’m no Mel Gibson but my women have always come back for sex even when the relationship ended badly.
