"How did you learn to love cocksucking?" That is an indiscreet question to ask a woman, as I discovered when I asked the first young woman who sucked mine – but it didn't keep her from doing it again as long as we were together, many years ago. She always said it tasted strange, but she must have enjoyed it. I certainly did. A couple of others didn't say that. One only tasted it once and never let that happen again. Another one must have known that she didn't like it, stopping me, when I started to lick her pussy with my cock in front of her face.
Recently, I wondered what some of the answers to the question could be, what women would reply. In all my stories, the girls and women do love to suck cocks, and in most of them, the question would be superfluous, since the stories tell about girls' first experiences. What if I imagined, however, how other girls and women would reply to a later lover's question? I had fun and hope readers do.
The stories will start with the question and immediate response, then shift to the scene of her first cocksucking, returning to the questioner's response.
There is mention of preteen girls' recollections of seeing cocks, but no under-aged activity.
* * *
"How did you learn to love cocksucking?"
I thought we had known each other long and well enough to venture to ask. It was too obvious that she did, now lying together in bed after the umpteenth time she had. There was a long silence. I was regretting my having asked, but then she snorted with a hum and slapped my ass and then replied:
"Shouldn't tell you; you shouldn't have asked."
"But you do."
"You know that! But I shouldn't tell you."
"Why?"
"Hmm! Hmmmm? You really want to know?"
"I asked."
"I shouldn't tell you, but it was so good."
"Mmmm! Sounds like you want to tell."
"If you aren't too shocked."
"I won't say anything."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She turned around on the bed and gave me a smirk. I waited. She drew a deep breath and said:
"Well, you know that I grew up in Scandinavia. All pre-school kids run around naked in the summer at the beach. No one thinks anything of it. You don't know that I have twin brother."
I caught my breath, anticipating how her story could continue, but managing not to say anything. She continued:
"So, of course, I knew what little boys looked like, not just my brother, and knew that it sometimes stuck out, just thought it funny. Hmm? Well, not just funny."
I held my tongue again, with some difficulty; was she going to tell me that she had started sucking cocks back then? She seemed to appreciate my reticence. After another deep breath, she continued:
"Tell you what happened."
I nodded, waiting.
* * *
When we finished school, eighteen, no, nineteen, summer vacation, we were at our family's place in the country, very rustic, sent to spend a week there to open the place up before our parents joined us. One day we hiked to the nearby lake; nice warm, sunny day. I asked him if we wanted to go swimming.
"Skinny dipping?!" he replied in surprise.
I hadn't really thought about that. We could go in our underwear, nothing more revealing than our swimwear, but if he had asked that, thought that was what I was suggesting. I replied:
"Why not? We always used to."
"When we were little kids."
"Lots of people do," I replied, which was true, whole families, just not ours.
He knew that too. Did his glance at me suggest he was wondering how I looked naked? Would I mind if he did? It would be kind of fun, and a first time for me – for him too? He must have also heard that a few of our classmates had dared to do it. He didn't say anything. As usual, I couldn't resist teasing him:
"Yeah, that was funny back then, sometimes it stuck out."
It took him a moment to realized what I was talking about; then he snorted slightly and said:
"It did? I don't remember that."
"The other boys' too."
"You were looking at theirs too?"
"Not really looking, just noticed that they sometimes stuck out."
"And remembered?"
"Thought it was interesting that they could. Funny: I remember thinking that they looked like something to suck."
"You did?!"
That was really true, but only after I had said that did I realize what he could be thinking, as I now suddenly was. We all were pretty innocent back then. I was pretty sure that he also hadn't done any more than make out, but he must also have heard somewhere about oral sex. He had immediately replied, but now added:
"You wanted to suck it?"
"I didn't say that, just that it looked like that."
"Hmmm?! And you want to go skinny dipping with me?"
"I didn't say that either; that was your suggestion."
"It was a question."
"But if you thought that was what I meant?" I replied with a shrug.
By now I really wanted to. I guess I was wondering if it would stick out again. I had only felt one stiff – not with my hand – when I had been making out. He glanced at me again. I wondered if he could see that my nipples had popped out. Probably not, bras back then weren't supposed to let that show.
"And you want to go skinny dipping after telling me that?" he asked.
"It doesn't have to stick out. My nipples probably will."
I was surprised that I had said that. This wasn't teasing, now enticing him.
"Hmph!" he responded.
"Hey, I'm just your sister, not your girlfriend. Just forget it, what I said."
We were at the lake, obviously going to the place where we often swam. He looked very dubious. He was going to need more enticing. I started to pull my blouse out of my pants and said:
"Well, I will, anyway. You don't have to."
He watched me start to unbutton my blouse. They were going to stick out, they were already, and I knew I was blushing a little. He noticed, grinning and saying:
"At least, you're blushing."
"Of course, with you staring at me."
He continued to stare, until he saw my bra. Had he thought I wasn't wearing one? I tossed my blouse aside and started to unbutton my pants. Finally, he nodded with shrug and murmured:
"I guess, if you do. Don't you look either," and unbuckled his belt.
We turned away from each other and took off our clothes. Maybe he hesitated, waiting for me to go in the water first, or maybe it just took longer for him to take off his things. Maybe he did look at my backside when I got in the water, but that was all right; we were eventually going to see each other all naked. I didn't look back, didn't want to embarrass him by seeing him from the front first.
I waited in the waist-deep water. Yeah, my nipples were very erect. He was going to like seeing my breasts. I liked them, knew that they were quite nice, having seen my classmates' after sport since they all started to swell out. A couple did have Playboy figures, but some had less than I did, his girlfriend too. Had he done more than maybe squeeze hers? Her nipples were too large for her breasts, would have fit better on Playboy-sized breasts.
I heard him get in the water, and then he splashed my back. I squealed – all that cold water! I had wanted this? At least, that suggested that I splash him back. I swept my hand over the water as I turned around. He seemed have been expecting me to, just standing there, grinning at me, immediately splashing me with both hands in return – cold water on my breasts! In a reflex, I clapped my arms over them. He just grinned, then I did.
Fair enough, it had been my idea, and now I wanted him to see them. I splashed him again, like he had, and stood proudly, letting him look, watching his eyes and waiting for his expression. His eyes found them. He grinned, then immediately just smiled with a slight nod. I thought that was polite of him. Had I been expecting him to say anything? Wow! You have great breasts! Of course, he wouldn't. Then he splashed me again, and said:
"Like when we were kids," and grinned again, waiting for me to splash him.
I did, liking his having suggested that this was being just as harmless as back then; it was supposed to be. When the surface of the clear water smoothed out, I looked down, but could only recognize where his pubic hair was. He couldn't see more than that either, of course. We stood there, letting each other look. If my nipples weren't still sticking out, when he looked at them again, I felt sure that they were. He smiled slightly again. I was tempted to say something about his girlfriend's, but didn't, remarking:
"We couldn't swim back then."
He nodded and accepted my suggestion, and we both swam as much as we could in the small lake, back and forth, turning when it was too shallow, chuckling, when we both only crouched to turn, not raising our hips above the water. We took a couple of more laps. Sure, we were going eventually to get out of the water and see all of each other, but that seemed hardly a problem by then. When we did, he shrugged with a bemused expression when my eyes dropped down.
I was disappointed. Of course, I knew that he had pubic hair, but what I wanted to see was so small! Did he chuckle – at my disappointed expression? He had also looked down, but I knew that he could hardly see anything but my little patch of hair. I liked it too, not like those of the girls with a big, thick patch. I murmured:
"Just like when we were kids, no big deal."
"Cold water," he murmured and smiled, looking pleased, and then glancing at my breasts.
My nipples popped out, and I unconsciously wiped my forearm over them, replying:
"Not quite just like when we were kids."
"No, but it was your idea."
"I guess so. Want to sit down?"
We sat down on the mossy spot we knew, and didn't say anything for a while. My eyes stole glances down between his legs. It wasn't so small any more. He must have known that it wasn't. Or had he noticed my glances? He murmured:
"The sun, nice."
It was nice and warm in the sun, or was he apologizing for his cock's being larger? I stole another glance: it was, larger than before. Before I realized what I was saying, I murmured the first thing that came to mind - started to:
"As long as it doesnt' ...."
"Shut up!" he interrupted me.
I did, but it looked longer than before. Was he afraid that it would stick up? Oooh! This was interesting, his skin rolling back, a round knob beginning to appear. Yeah, that is what had intrigued me when we all were small. I had forgotten; I had seen that sometimes happen – his cock or that of one or two of our little friends? I glanced over at his face. He looked a little uncomfortable. I murmured, thinking it would be relaxing, understanding remark:
"Doesn't matter if it does."
"We shouldn't have done this," he replied.
I didn't know much about boys, but Mom had once warned me to be careful, that they could lose control of themselves. Had she been talking about my brother's cock? Not his, of course, but it was the one I was watching. He obviously didn't have control of it: the roll of skin slipped off the knob.
"You're looking," he complained.
"Sorry, can't help it."
