3 comments/ 24559 views/ 0 favorites Oral Values: Noontime Nip By: Global Carol (The Oral Values serial is comprised of independent chapters, yet I hope the reader will find they provide a satisfying tale alphabetically.) The following morning, after a quick workout in the health club, Edward dressed and headed down for a bit of breakfast before the day's conference session. He was still excited about his solo sexual display, shared with the Oral Room chatters via his video camera and his laptop. He was in new territory this week. He'd historically been opposed to such vicarious sexual activity, and here not 10 hours before he had masturbated into a shot glass, wine glass, and a water glass to flaunt his overgenerous supply of semen. Simultaneously Regina, having returned from a five mile run in the early morning, was also on her way down to breakfast. She, too, had been on display the previous evening, though hers was a video from years before and fortunately she'd had the foresight to wear a mast that covered most of her face. She would have never had a career if that video had identified her. Somehow, she laughed to herself, her obvious love of sucking cocks and sipping semen exhibited in the video from ten years before would not have been a steppingstone towards her Ph.D. Pleasantly surprised to run into each other, they discussed the day's agenda over breakfast. "Anything else for you, ma'am?" asked the well-tailored waiter. "Just some more tea with cream, please," Regina responded. Then, back to Edward, "So are you feeling comfortable with your defense?" "My concern is for you, my dear." "Ed," she retorted, "and I mean this in the most sensitive, caring, and utmost professional manner, 'Go screw yourself!'" "To arms, my good woman," he said getting up, actually offering her his arm. "Sorry, but I'll see you in there. I've got to make a quick run out to get something. Good luck this morning." With that she got up and rushed out of the restaurant. Looking at her receding butt, recalling how its curves were so clear and alluring poolside yesterday afternoon, he became slightly aroused. This he needed to nip in the bud. He had a lot of pressure on him this morning. After an introductory presentation, the remainder of morning session was Ed's opportunity to present his latest research. The early part of the afternoon was Regina's turn to present hers. Then, after a break, they would defend their opposing positions. Though the conversation was cordial and light, three subtexts were present. First, while neither was sure, both had the thought, hard to dismiss, that the other was the one from the previous night's entertainment at the OR. Ed was almost sure the 20-year-old woman, blowing a kiss thanking a horde of horny athletes for what appeared to be a liter of semen, was Regina during her college years. Regina was almost sure that the cock that had spewed what appeared to be six or seven ounces (was that possible?) of cum in one almost minute-long orgasm was Ed's. And this was only the first layer of subtext! The second, was the detente in their formerly intransigent psychological research positions. Until this week Ed had always felt that sex was a wonderful thing, as long as its purpose was direct pleasure or procreation. He simply could not see any kind of sexual role-play or manipulation or sex enhanced by fantasy as being normal. His research, not coincidently, always managed to back up these personal ideas. To him fetishes were, of course, aberrant behavior. At the other end of the spectrum, Regina's research had always concluded, in essence, "if it feels good, do it" - as long as no one is injured and it's consensual. This week had changed both of their attitudes, each had moved closer to a more moderate middle ground. The third subtext was the inchoate mutual attraction. They had each had a recent bit of distressing news and through each one's grief had come a clearer picture of where each was in her and his life, and even where each would like it to go. After just spending a few hours together relaxing alone in the whirlpool they were clearly interested in getting to know each other - in the social, professional, and biblical senses of the verb "to know." *** Actually, the session had gone just fine for Ed's presentation, Regina thought. Having had some difficulty concentrating, she had thought about several topics during the lecture. First, she was surprised that his position was so much more moderate than his writings lead one to believe. He actually supported fantasy and was only critical of seriously psychologically damaging behavior. Was this a new facet to his research or had she not understood his work before now? She also had trouble not fantasizing about his cock, its beauty, and its voluminous supply of semen. At least, she was 98% sure it was his cock. And she'd hoped to confirm the truth today. At lunch, they sat at a table set for six, but two didn't show up. The other couple was a husband and wife, both psychologists, practicing in Chicago. After an initial soup course served on fine china in a deep blue color with gold edges and a French sterling silver-plated tableware, the main course was served: a light chicken breast for Edward and Regina had a steamed vegetable dish over brown rice. A few minutes later, a dessert tray was brought to the table and all of them made their selections. Finally, after the dishes were cleared, but before coffee and tea was offered, the other couple left to do some shopping before the afternoon session. Regina took out her notes to do one final brush-up before her presentation. "Regina, I've got up to take care of some business for a few moments," Ed said, excusing himself. "I'll be back in a minute. If the waiter comes back, order me an 'American' coffee, OK?" "You got it," she replied and threw herself back into her notes. But, after watching him leave the room, she reached down into her purse and took out the package she had purchased on her errand that morning. After quickly and surreptitiously scanning the room Regina put the little bag into Ed's satchel. A little gift, she thought. Let's see what happens with this! Ten minutes later Regina was ready for her tea and was looking around for the waiter, when Ed quickly walked up to the table. "Where's my coffee?" he asked sitting down next to her. "I don't know where the waiter went off to. Maybe it's their break time!" she said. A moment later the waiter arrived with a tray of coffee and tea. Pouring tea for Regina and a cup of coffee for Edward, he left. "Are you ready?" he asked. "Yes, but I must say you surprised me this morning!" she responded. Not knowing exactly what she meant, he looked at her quizzically. "How?" "Well, your position on human sexuality was very different from all of your published research." "Well, some people stay stuck in their ways, and others can actually drink from the font of wisdom and come to new conclusions," he said. She wasn't exactly sure how to take this response, but at that moment the waiter came back with a large pitcher in the same deep blue china. "Cream," he asked? "Yes, please," Regina said. "None, for me thanks," said Edward. "I've got to make another call before your session. I'll see you later. Oh, if I can get tickets, would you like to accompany me to the Royal Opera tonight?" "That would be delightful," she said, smiling at him. "See you later. Good luck," he said and with that he left. Regina, returning to her notes, absentmindedly picked up the pitcher to pour some cream into her tea. Just as she was going to pour it, something caught her eye: it was the cream. Could it be? No! Could it? Since that first taste of them at eighteen, cocks and semen had been at the center of her sexual universe. And that universally involved her mouth, throat, tongue, and lips, as well, of course, as her nose, never to diminish the importance of the aroma. Yet, one other sense played a key role in her sexual pleasure: sight. In her varied sexual encounters she'd always enjoyed watching a hard cock, the head large and leaking pre-seminal fluid, finally go over the top and shoot its tasty treasure. Then, seeing the gleaming, shiny, oily liquid in pools, offering themselves up for her epicurean eroticism, was part of her experiential enjoyment. She had seen it in all of its hues, from the thickest paste, the thinnest watery fluid, and every drop of it excited her. She'd seen it on various parts of her own and other's bodies, but it always thrilled her, giving her tongue a target as well as a feast for her eyes. She'd seen cum in fine crystal, in plastic cups, in paper cups, and topping almost anything edible. She'd even been to and given her share of cum tastings. As a practical expert on semen, in all its glorious forms, she knew, just by looking at the beautiful, dark blue china pitcher it contained a good three or four ounces of semen. No question. She bolted upright in her chair and looked all around her. As much as this would have given her a sensual glow, just by seeing her favorite liquid, it was a shock to have it served here at her banquet room table. Somewhat unnerved by this sudden surprise she pondered: "It must be Ed. But it could be someone I've been with in the past. But, I've never been involved with another shrink. No, it must be Ed, but he was at the table when the waiter came with the pitcher. And, therefore, it must have been him in the video online last night!" While her brain was working overtime to determine the "who" of this mystery, her pussy began to moisten, her nipples hardened and her face began to blush. She licked her lips, eyes half-closing, wanting more than anything to pick up this pitcher and drain it. The reality of the situation suddenly hit her. She'd seen enough cum in her life to appreciate the rich consistency of this delicious treat and there was absolutely no way she was going to miss the opportunity, especially as it must be Edward's offering. She had been hoping to get a taste of it yesterday afternoon, but was enjoying their conversation so much that the desire for his cock seemed to take a back seat. "What is happening to me?" she thought. "The presentation was under control, but my sexual center is not!" Looking around once more and not seeing anyone terribly interested in what was happening at her table, she put her index finger into the pitcher. Covering the entire first joint of her finger she slowly, lovingly, moved it up to her lips and sensuously spread it around first the lower then the upper one. She repeated the caress several times. All the while, she fought the desire to suck the whole finger into her mouth quickly. The smell of semen on her lips caused her to have a small, slow, rolling orgasm. There she was among hundreds of her well-educated colleagues from around the world in a swanky hotel in London, spreading cum on her lips - and climaxing from the experience. Even she couldn't believe it, and she suddenly remembered many, many rather extraordinary encounters contributing to her arousal. She was glad she had chosen a very dark blue suit for her presentation today as she was almost sure her pussy's juices were going to be flowing down her inner thigh. As she continued to have these pleasurable feelings from her pussy to her lips, she thought more about the pitcher of semen. If it was Ed, how had he cum so much in the few minutes just before he returned to the table. The semen was not warm, but it did feel warmer than room temperature so she was sure it was freshly brewed! But was it Ed's? Not able to continue this line of reasoning because (a) it was impossible to ascertain its provenance for the time being and (b) she had a presentation to make to six hundred colleagues in ten minutes and (c) she was coming! She picked up her spoon, poured a little cum into it, and put the spoon into her mouth. Licking the warm cum and spreading it around the inside of her mouth added to her bizarre orgasm. Stopping herself, though, before she beginning to start fellating the spoon (any utensil in a storm!), she took it out of her mouth and put it back on her tea saucer. As the pleasure continued to bathe her body, she began to feel more and more out of control. She knew she needed to get a grip and return to her preparation. Knowing that there was only one solution and throwing all caution to the wind, she picked up the pitcher, brought it up to her lips and drank the entire contents in one non-stop gulp. The pitcher might have been drained, but her body was not. She kept having these small tremors just a few seconds apart emanating from her groin and washing through her torso, sending chills up her spine and to the tips of her breasts. She could feel her thighs flexing and relaxing every second or two. She lowered her head, looking down at the table, and closed her eyes, hoping that anyone seeing her would assume she was reading her notes. She felt naked to the room, as though everyone would be staring at her, knowing that she was in an orgasmic state. Yet, the body would simply not quit. Was it the excitement of not being 100% sure whose cum she had just swallowed? Was it the excitement of sitting among more than 500 of her esteemed colleagues and drinking a pitcher full of semen, coming all the while, like a college girl with a fuck (in her case, suck) buddy in a dorm room? Or was it the pressure of knowing that to some degree her professional life was going to be on the line in ten minutes and that her presentation needed to be focused, cogent, and completely defensible? All of these things may be have contributed to the sexual excitement coursing through her body, but at least for those few minutes, it was irrelevant. The semen was still working its magic and she was, to use a phrase, going with the flow. As the last tastes of the semen were languishing on her palate, she put down the pitcher, grabbed her notes and her brief case and tried to get her sadly abbreviated sexual shenanigans under control. A few difficult moments later, wishing she could rearrange her panties, she made her way to the dais. She wore a comfortable, roomy, matching jacket over her slacks with a dark silk blouse. Just before ascending to the stage, she did a very quick check of her outfit in a full-length hallway mirror. Finally, feeling like she had gotten herself under control, she took a few deep breaths, centered on what she was doing and what her goal was for the rest of the afternoon. Then she remembered that sweet Edward and she were going to the opera in the evening. It brought a smile to her face and she felt calm. At last. She climbed the three or four steps and took her seat facing the conference room behind a desk sign with her name on it. Just before the lights went down and the spotlight was turned on, one of the older psychologists and conference organizer, a woman she'd known for years, leaned over towards her. "Regina, dear," she laughed, "are you auditioning for one of those "Got Milk?" ads?" Oh my god, Regina thought, "Why?" "Well, you have a milk mustache!" she laughed. Bringing a tissue to her lips, Regina thought of the small detail in the history she was currently reading, about Queen Mary and her concern for errant seamen. "Yes, thank you," Regina said. She took a tissue out of her purse and cleaned her lips with it, momentarily lingering on them, remembering her recent taste treat. As the lights were going down in the large ballroom, under her breath she hummed a brief if irreverent chorus of "God bless the Queen." Then Regina leaned forward towards the microphone on the table in front of her. Just before speaking, she looked down at her notes, took a deep breath, slowly licked her lips, and began her presentation. (Continued)