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What I Did for Love

By: Global Carol



This fictional tale is based on true events. Notes: (1) All the characters in this story are 21 years of age or older. (2) This story is intended for adults only. (3) In all of my fictional tales, no one has any sexually transmitted diseases. In the real world it's important to know who your sexual partner is and to practice safe sex. (4) In the world of fantasy your proclivities are just that: yours. In the real world, respect for your partner and yourself are essential.

*****

I really should have known better. I wasn't a kid anymore. I was college educated and my loans were paid off. I had a good job (though it could have paid better), and if all went well in the not too distant future, I might be able to put a down payment on a condo.

So I should have seen that the line between doing sexy stuff and over-doing sexy stuff had been crossed. Indeed, I could no longer even see that line in the rear view mirror. I had become carried away by the fun and the naughtiness of it all.

Fun and naughtiness. And even nastiness. But I can't ignore the fact that I had fallen in love with him. Really fallen. Hard. The way no smart woman should.

It was when I learned the truth about him and about us, that's when it was clear to me that I had become an addict, one who needed therapy and probably some kind of twelve-step program.

Being brutally honest: Spending a year of my life with Steven was a mistake, plain and simple.

To be fair, it wasn't all bad. In the beginning I fell in love. Truly, madly, deeply, in love. It happened fast and hit me like a firebolt. The first few months were amazing, head over heels, filled with heretofore-unknown pleasure. We were compatible from our first date. The things we did, the trips we took, the joy in just being with him. It all felt right. Making love with him was, for the first time in my life, fun. It made me excited, hot—and wet. He told me that he had these incredible orgasms. I loved it when he had orgasms.

He told me he wanted to indulge all of my fantasies. I smiled, glad in the knowledge that I was the center of his desire, but I didn't think I had a whole bunch of fantasies that were crying out to be indulged. Simply knowing that he wanted me and wanted to make love to me was fantasy enough. I should have questioned his intent. That too had been a warning sign I missed.

And in a there's-a-first-time-for-everything sort of way: Not only did he have orgasms, I had orgasms.

Sex had never really given me much pleasure. Even after four serious boyfriends and doing it regularly, it was not fun. After the first few boyfriends, I went to my GYN. She told me the name of my condition (dyspareunia) and that it was, at least partially, mental. Afterwards, doing my research, I felt foolish having spent the money. I did not need a doctor to tell me that intercourse was painful most of the time.

With Steven, though, sex was surprisingly good. He was caring and took things slowly. From what I could determine, I was probably more relaxed and therefore I drew more pleasure from the act of lovemaking. It was not always "amazing," but it was way better than it had ever been with the other men I'd slept with. Way, way better!

After those first couple of months, though, things changed. I repeat: I should have seen the signs, but love has a way of making you oblivious to the little traps springing up in front of you. It's all about oxytocin and neurotransmitters and dopamine and the amygdala. Women are probably more susceptible to it than are men, but love has a way of reaching in a yanking on those heartstrings in almost all of us.

As the relationship grew, so did my obsession with Steven. When I wasn't with him I wanted to be with him. When I was with him, I wanted to be closer to him. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to share everything about me with him.

Love. Caring. No secrets.

I loved him so intensely that I was willing to give up my own needs for his. 

Over time I realized that his desires, his fantasies, were not normal. Well, at least the fantasies he wanted to act out were not what most people would deem normal. I didn't see it until the relationship had become seriously broken. It took me an entire year. A whole friggin' year. Stupid me.

Of course, I have since tried emotionally to put all the blame on him. And to be candid, the way he was able to manipulate me is hard to believe and hard for me to accept. So, a part of me still does blame him, but he didn't force me. I agreed mostly willingly, not because of something that was real, though. Because of the damn oxytocin and those neurotransmitters.

Love—or so I thought.

Chapter 1: Exciting Beginning

I was living and working in Chicago when I met Steven at a Superbowl party in late January.

The first time Steven and I kissed was the kind of moment you never forget. The feeling is etched inside my brain. We were at a restaurant on our second date. To be closer to one another, we were sitting on adjacent sides of the table, the corner between us. I was looking for some tissues in my bag and my phone fell out. He leaned over to pick it up for me and the back of his hand brushed my thigh. That sent a sudden, surprising shiver up my spine.

"You look funny," he said, placing my phone on the table.

Feeling a tad woozy, I said, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, just sayin'."

I hesitated a moment. "You touched me."

"Yeah, and?"

He looked into my eyes. I felt that he was engulfing me, that I couldn't breathe. I needed him to touch me again or I would die.

Sensing what I wanted, he leaned over and kissed me, full on the mouth. The sudden shiver I had just experienced was dwarfed by my emotional response to the soft, sweet touch of his lips. When the kiss ended we looked at one another. I had a sense that I had stopped breathing altogether, that the world no longer existed. Only Steven's brown eyes.

As he drove back to my apartment, he held my hand in my lap. Neither of us spoke. We both knew what was next.

Moments later sitting on my bed, Steven kicked off his shoes. I stood before him and slowly unbuttoned my blouse. I wasn't embarrassed. I wanted him to see me naked and I wanted to see him. I removed my skirt and hose.

With his finger pointing down, he made a little circle. I understood and turned around for him twice. All the while I could think of but one thing: I need to touch this man. There was nothing else I needed more in the world.

He reached up and took my hand, pulling me onto him on the bed. When he slid his hand to my back to remove my bra, the feel of it caused a spark to run across my back and down between my legs. I thought: You know what I need, Steven, touch my breasts, please, now.

After removing my bra he began to kiss first one, then the other. The sensation of his tongue on my body gave me these little orgasmic stirrings, something I'd never experienced. A couple of minutes later, I undressed him, pulling off his sweater, sliding off his socks and pants, until he was only wearing his boxers.

His erection was pushing up at the thin material. I slowly pulled his shorts down and then I saw his beautiful cock. It was pointing to the ceiling and had drops of moisture in the slit. I wanted to taste him. I needed to taste him.

Moving my head down to his erect penis, I slowly caressed my face with it. I could feel the pre-seminal fluid sticking to my forehead and cheeks. He smelled clean and manly. 

Wrapping my lips over my teeth, I took him in my mouth and rolled my tongue over his head. The taste sent more of those shockwaves throughout my body. I simply held him there enjoying the textures and tastes on my tongue. After a few moments, I could feel him ever so slowly pushing a little deeper into my mouth. The sensation was instantaneous. My libidinous engine that had just recently gone from an idle to high gear suddenly went into overdrive. I climaxed. Just like that.

Never in my life had that happened. I wasn't touching myself, nor was Steven, but the orgasm happened as though I were in the middle of a full-on fuck session.

Holy crap!

Once the sensation slowly diminished, Steven tore off my panties, laid me down on the bed, took a second to roll on a condom, opened my legs and put the tip of his cock on my clitoris.

Another orgasm ("Yes! God, yes!") just from that little button being pushed by his hard cock.

Without waiting for me to finish and to come down this time, he moved his cock lower and entered me, not as gently as I was expecting. I could feel my wetness; I was concerned that, as had been usual for me, it would hurt. But this time I was more than just pleasantly surprised. He pushed pretty far in and I felt no pain. In fact, with each slow, firm thrust I moved ever closer towards more of these ecstatic sensations.

When he was very deep inside me, I reached down to feel him and to play gently with his balls. He seemed to know exactly what moves to make and did those things just right. My response was to allow myself to be moved to a euphoric state that was somewhere between "Oh my God" and full-on orgasm. Nothing else mattered. There was nothing else, just Steven's hard cock thrusting in and out of me.

In my throes of rapture, I had a brief mental flash about his cock. I know I'd seen it and had it briefly in my mouth, but when I touched him I realized that he must be bigger than I'd ever had before. I could feel some pain when he pushed as far as he could, but it struck me that even then I could touch quite a bit of hard penis still outside of my vagina. I momentarily considered if he was enjoying himself or if he felt unsatisfied by not being completely inside of me.

It was at that moment that he began to thrust even more forcefully and to pick up his speed. Putting everything into perspective I decided that now was not the time to worry about his possible satisfaction or disappointment. He seemed to be about to climax and I knew I'd be joining him in just a few seconds.

As he was about to come, his hands gripped me tighter and he strongly thrust into me sounding a big, rough low noise in his throat. I could feel the force of his effort and it had the ineluctable effect of giving me an orgasm, the kind I'd never experienced without a vibrator.

Each of his orgasmic thrusts provided me with additional peaks of pleasure. At some point I must have wrapped my legs around him and with each of his strokes I clenched, driving him more firmly into me and putting more pressure on my already satiated lady parts.

Before Steven, I had no idea that I could come like that.

As I lay cradled in his arms several hours (and what seemed like innumerable orgasms) later, I couldn't help but consider the ramifications of the evening. Could I really enjoy sex this much? No wonder people did it often. If I had had this much pleasure with other men, I would have done much more of this stuff. Sooner.

As I said: Amazing!

Chapter 2: As Time Goes By

Over the next few weeks, we did more things with and to each other. We made love in every position I thought possible—as well as some I had never imagined possible. (My flexibility surprised even me: I was glad my mother had corralled me into both gymnastics and dance classes as a kid, but mostly I was thankful to Janine, my yoga instructor.) We did it in the car, in the kitchen, behind a sand dune on a warm sunny beach and in front of a roaring fire with the snow piling up outside.

In the beginning he went down on me and licked me regularly, easily pushing me over the edge in a matter of just minutes. I had never had so many orgasms in my life. Of course, most were not huge, but that was fine with me. I couldn't take too many of those biggies. Smaller pleasurable sensations satisfied me just perfectly.

Soon, however, I was sucking him more than I'd ever sucked any other guy. He told me he enjoyed blowjobs more than intercourse. I could understand that. For me, receiving oral sex was a transcendent experience. Why wouldn't it be for him too?

But I think that's where the problem emanated, actually. At his request, I began to spend most of my time pleasuring him with my mouth. We didn't have intercourse as often as we had in the beginning. And even when we would make love, he'd usually pull out and come in my mouth. As I spent more and more time with his cock in my mouth, the time he spent on giving me pleasure diminished. I didn't realize it at the time, but sex began to mean blowjobs, not good old fucking.

It was all OK with me, though. Our love, I thought, was growing, our commitment deepening. Whenever we went out we had a great time. We went to nice restaurants, on special long weekends, to movies, to concerts, to the ballet. And we did a lot of other fun and romantic things together.

In my heart, Steven had become my soul mate. We had a bond. I wanted nothing more than to please him. That should have been another warning. Only afterward in hindsight, I could see so many of them.

One evening, we were lying on the sofa at his place and watching something on television. We were both dressed and not doing anything sexual. Suddenly, he asked me if I would give him head.

It surprised me, but was kind of exciting too. We'd never just "done it." Every time we'd been intimate there'd been a warm up of some sort. We'd hugged, touched, kissed, or even simply held hands. Things progressed from there naturally.

This was different. Steven just said, "Hey, Patrice, would you give me a blowjob. I want to come in your mouth."

Just like that. No foreplay, no light romantic caress. Nothing. Just, "Hey, would you give me a blowjob. I want to come in your mouth."

OK, I thought. I'd given lots of blowjobs. Well, not lots, but more than enough to know how to please him and I'd never had any complaints. 

But, you see, when a man ejaculates in my mouth I swallow. I've always swallowed. It's sort of the natural thing to do. Guys had seemed to like that I do it and I'd always had a what-the-hell attitude about it. It certainly seemed neater than getting up to spit in a piece of tissue paper—or worse yet, going into the bathroom to spit or gag. I remember when I was younger some girlfriends said they did that.

Plus the feeling of swallowing semen is kind of sexy, if you do it right.

But this request was a little off-putting. Even though he phrased it as a question, it was more like a command. As I said, on the other hand it was also kind of hot.

I didn't say anything at all. I just moved my head down to get settled at his groin. As I was moving my head lower and about to unbuckle his pants, he beat me to it, leaning back and stretching out his legs. I had been planning to undress him slowly and sensuously below the waist. Instead, he quickly unbuckled his belt, pulled down his jeans and shorts, and aimed his cock at my face.

As my mouth was nearly there, he was already stroking his hard cock. Well, this was not my first rodeo. After one circumnavigation of his head with my tongue, I took him in. My head was at an odd angle and I could only move my tongue over and under the shaft. Its head was now pressed against the roof of my mouth.

Then he did something else that was new: He held my head firmly in place and shoved deeply into the back of my mouth. Because of the angle, I gagged a little, but just momentarily. I was able let him thrust though. Getting no negative response, I assumed, he had determined that I was OK with this new, firmer approach to oral sex. He began to do it with a regular motion. Surprisingly, he did it in a kind of repetitive pattern: two or three regular hard thrusts and then one deep, even harder thrust.

I was a little shocked at these new actions, but they excited me too, especially when I heard his satisfied grunts. We continued this way for a few minutes. Although I wanted to get more actively involved and even creative, Steven's hands were still holding my head firmly in place. And, to tell the truth, I enjoyed the smooth and wet feel of his luscious hard-on sliding in and out of my lips.

Before long I knew he was getting ready to come. His hips were moving faster and faster. His hands gripping my head were so strong, he probably would have bruised my skin if he were holding my arms. I began to taste the salty beginnings of his pre-seminal fluid leaking over my tongue.

I don't know if it was the new taste or the slightly stronger smells of his crotch or the wet feel of his hard cock gliding smoothly over my lips or even the tension in my shoulders and neck from his grip on my head. Whatever it was, it was somehow working for me. I could feel that newly familiar feeling of an orgasm in the offing.

Weird. Delightful, but new and still weird. I'd never become so excited without fingers or a vibrator on my clitoris, a cock in my pussy, or even hands on my breasts. Never. I remember asking myself if this was possible.

But the thought was interrupted—not the feelings, only the thought—because just a few grunts and thrusts later, he started to climax.

I could feel his head grow suddenly and I felt a simultaneous pulse of cum shoot deep into the back of my mouth. It was so strong that each pulse felt like one of those big, heavy raindrops at the beginning of a storm. But this was cum, not water. Male sex fluid. Steven had been coming in my mouth most nights and I enjoyed giving him the pleasure.

This time, his climax initiated one of my own, not a little trembler. No, this orgasm was a stunner and frankly surprised the hell out of me.

He kept shooting into my mouth and I just stayed in that position, shaking like a leaf as he continued to fill my mouth. The warmth and the salty flavor suddenly gave me the sensation of taking a bite of a rich, chocolate tort. It filled me, satiating me. It was all I could think of and, for the moment, my orgasm and Steven's orgasm and Steven's semen were all that mattered and all that existed in the world. It held me there for what seemed a long time.

As we both began to return to the world of the not-currently-climaxing, I could feel his cock begin to soften. I used to think this was such a funny thing, but now it's kind of endearing, especially knowing that very soon it can start to get rock hard again.

It's a little easier to swallow a mouthful of cum without a cock, any sized cock, in your mouth, though. At least for me. As he began to slip from my mouth I kept a tight seal around him so we would not make a mess. Then he did something else he'd never done before.

"Sweetie," he said, "show it to me. Show me your mouthful of cum."

This too was new and weirdly sexy. I'd never been asked to do this, but, I thought, what the hell!

He let go of my head and I turned around to face him, now with the back of my head resting on his lap. I looked up at him and slowly opened my mouth so he could see the cum that had pooled around my tongue.

"Jeez, that's so hot," Steven said.

I enjoyed that I excited him. But what also surprised me was his focus on my mouth. I felt a little disappointed: I was looking at him, at his eyes, feeling happy and content that I had given him a great orgasm (not to mention my own). But he didn't even make eye contact. It was as though my mouth and the fresh genetic material it contained were another entity, his sole interest at the moment.

Still staring at the liquid in my mouth as I slid my tongue playfully back and forth, his said, "Can you blow bubbles?"

Bubbles? Why? I briefly considered this and could not understand it at all. He'd just come. Why did he need to see his cum bubbling inside my mouth?

Oh well. This was the man I love, right?

Sure, I was up for anything. I began to gargle a little and the cum started to bubble up in my mouth. After just a few seconds it felt like big bubbles had completely filled my open mouth, some of it overrunning my lips. Not wanting it to get all over, I stopped. It was all a little funny to me. I just didn't understand it, but when I looked into his eyes I saw something that I'd never seen before. It seemed like I wasn't any longer a person, much less his girlfriend. I was just a load of cum with a tongue surrounded by lips.


What I Did for Love



Guys are weird, I thought. OK. I can play this game. If it excites him, that's good for me too. I like to keep him happy. I had fallen in love with this man and wanted to do anything to please him.

After a little more fun with bubbles, I closed my mouth and swallowed his frothy gift. He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. I then rearranged myself on the sofa.

"God," he said. "That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Give me a few minutes and we can do it again, OK?"

Thus went the evening. I gave him two more blowjobs and I loved it when he came. This was helped a little by better physical placement of our bodies. He stood for both of them. The second time I sat on the sofa and for the third I knelt on the floor.

Surprisingly, every time he came, I had orgasms and they were huge. Monumental. No one should have this much pleasure, I told myself. I was able to play with my clit a little for the second, but not the third. Regardless, I had discovered a new orgasmic experience: the "No Touch Climax."

And each time, Steven asked me to show him his cum. I made bubbles, gargled, swished it around my mouth and once even let a little slide down below my lip before slurping it up again. Each time he told me it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

I was OK with all of it. I had these strange, but amazing orgasms and enjoyed giving Steven the pleasure of both the climax and the cum frolicking. The next day, I did some research on women climaxing without being touched. I found that it was not as rare as I thought, but still orgasms for most women didn't work that way. I, on the other hand, had no problem with it. In fact, I felt kind of special. And although intercourse with Steven was satisfying, it still hurt sometimes. This new status of the "blowjob concentration" causing my own outrageous orgasms seemed fine.

Each of us was in our late twenties and sex was important to us both, important enough that if we didn't have sex almost every day we both felt an even more compelling need for it. For the next few nights I mainly sucked his cock, sometimes after we fucked for a short while. A week or so later, after a passionate bit of the old in-and-out, he came inside me and stayed on top of me afterwards for a few minutes.

When he eventually pulled out, he did something else new: He got up on his knees right in front of me and made a little hip swirl, causing the condom hanging off his now-small cock and still holding his ejaculate to dance in a circle over my face until it softly hit me on the cheek.

"Do you want it?" he asked.

I wasn't sure what he was asking me.

"What?"

"Do you want my cum?"

"You mean now, from the condom?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't it turn you on?"

Hmm, more new behavior from Steven. Now, I'll admit that I enjoyed sucking him and having him come in my mouth. And though I never understood his fascination with me making a show of his cum afterward, it was beginning to get me turned on, too. Maybe it was the sensuous feel of the stuff in my mouth.

"Well, I guess," I said hesitantly. I'd never tasted cum from a condom, but it was still his cum. "Sure."

He proceeded to pull off the condom and then swirled it around my face, making smaller circles until it dangled over my mouth. The slight chemical smell of the condom and its lubricants were overpowered by my own unique pussy aroma. I stuck my tongue out to touch it, the contents a dollop of white inside.

Feeling a need for his touch, I grabbed the condom from him and placed his hand on my breast. Then I carefully turned the condom upside down and squeezed all the cum onto my outstretched tongue.

Seeing Steven's pleasure staring at my cum-laden tongue was priceless. His massaging of my breasts and especially his touch on my nipples combined with the sudden taste of cum initiated a mind-boggling climax. I closed my eyes, my body began to shake and I was transported.

When my climax finally ended, I realized that my cum-coated tongue was still extended with some cum sliding further into my mouth and the expended condom was just sitting on my left cheek. Most surprising was seeing Steven rapidly jerking himself off. The next thing I knew he was coming again and shooting his cum into my already loaded mouth.

Looking back I am amazed at our sexuality, that both of us could climax again so soon. Feeling his cum hit inside my mouth was such a turn-on that I may have had another, albeit smaller, orgasm.

"You like the taste, don't you?"

I'd never thought about the taste much, but I was surprised when I realized that having two loads of his cum in my mouth excited me. I swirled the creamy and thick mixture around with my tongue, showing him the fluids of his sex, as he just kept gaping at my cum-filled open mouth.

I swallowed carefully because I'd found that if I wasn't careful, the cum can stick to the back of my mouth and cause me to gag or cough, especially with my head back like that. Not a pleasant feeling. But, with care it all goes down quite smoothly, leaving a funky, but sexy taste and coating in my mouth.

I smiled up at him and he collapsed next to me.

"Seeing your cum in my mouth seems to really excite you, huh?" I said. "I don't quite understand it. If you've just come, what's so exciting about seeing your cum in my mouth?"

"Well, you're so beautiful and you have such a pretty smile. It just excites me to see my spunk washing around in it."

He explained that a lot of porn ends with a woman swallowing the guy's cum, usually showing it off before doing so. He called it "the money shot."

"OK. Show me," I said. I was interested. I wanted to understand why a "money shot" was so exciting.

He told me to wait and he'd find one so I went to the bathroom to clean up. When I came back he had a video of a woman giving head to a large, hard cock. Then the guy pulled out, stroked himself for a few seconds and shot right into the woman's mouth.

Watching the guy come surprised me; I wasn't expecting it to be a turn-on. I got small chills from the white liquid shooting into her mouth. When he was done, she briefly sucked on the tip of his cock to get any semen that was still there. Then the disembodied cock disappeared as she faced the camera and opened her mouth to show his cum. I was surprised that her mouth wasn't full, but what did I know? My mouth had just felt pretty full with two loads of Steven's cum.

Chapter 3: Learning Some Tricks

During the next few weeks as occasional signs of spring were hinting at the milder weather to come, Steven lost all interest in fucking me or doing almost anything to my body except for my mouth.

But on the other side of the ledger, he was attentive and loving. We both had reasonably good jobs that we liked. He made quite a bit more than I in his position as a district manager for an international firm, and although he traveled regularly for work, he didn't have to work too many nights or weekends. And our weekends were filled with romantic dinners, impromptu picnics, nights out of the town dancing and partying, and, yes, even some walks along the lake at sunset. (Of course, as it was still quite cold each of us was bundled up like the Michelin Man.)

Then there was one night while we were kissing, he began to lick my neck and slowly moved his way down to my breasts.

Now, my breasts are really sensitive. They're one of my most valued body parts—by others it seemed and by me. They have pink nipples surrounded by reasonably sized and similarly colored areolas. They are very round, not teardrop or torpedo shaped, nor are they too droopy. They're not huge and the right one is a little bigger than the left, even if no one can tell but me. They are big enough to be slightly pendulous. I enjoy playing with them myself and love it when a man does it to me.

So as Steven moved down to my chest I felt a wonderful rush of excitement, that "oh, it's gonna happen soon" feeling. He pushed my bra up over my breasts and did a great job licking and sucking them. I could feel myself getting wet.

Then I remembered that I was still having my period and I have never been comfortable with a man licking me with a string hanging out of my vagina. It just feels weird and, somehow, a little rude.

As he seemed to be heading south from my breasts, I gently pulled him back up on the sofa, moved to the floor, helped him get down his jeans and pulled out his rapidly growing equipment.

First I concentrated on his balls, licking and caressing them with my lips and tongue. While I was busy under his cock, I reached up with one hand and firmly stroked his hard-on. I always enjoyed the way the skin slid against its firmness. Even as I continued to bathe his balls with my lips and tongue, I was anticipating the taste of his pre-seminal fluid that I knew to be accumulating at its tip.

As I slowly began to move up to get to his dick into my mouth, I administered long, loving strokes with my tongue on its underside. I remained for a little bit at the sensitive part just under the head and could begin to taste the pre-cum that was dripping from its slit. The salty taste caused me to quiver with excitement.

Finally, I couldn't take it any more. I needed him in my mouth. Reconfiguring my legs under me so that his hard-on would be at the proper level, I engulfed the head with my lips. My tongue rubbed back and forth and around it. I think I emitted a contented sound like a happy cat from somewhere in my throat.

With almost no warning, Steven put his hands on either side of my head and held me firmly, slowly pushing himself to the back of my mouth. I had become a bit more used to this action and didn't gag as he started to thrust himself in and out. Again my lips began to tingle as they became wetter from his hard cock rubbing them.

One thing most men (well, most straight men, probably) don't realize is that it's not easy to keep your mouth open for a long time. Your jaw begins to complain and you want to close your mouth, if only briefly to relax some of the strain. It's one thing to put something small, like your thumb, in your mouth. That you could probably do for a long time without a problem. (How many young kids suck their thumbs?) But a hard cock is a different story. It's big, with several inches of circumference. Holding your mouth open while it repeatedly pushes in and out is not something that comes naturally.

However, I'd been sucking Steven and basically letting him fuck my mouth for weeks so I was mostly comfortable with it. It had become quite satisfying for me when I could taste the pre-seminal fluids that seemed to constantly ooze out of him, knowing that his climax was coming soon.

He made the noises I knew were announcing his next orgasm and I just let him push until he was there. This time I began to come even before his final shove into me. My body started to tremble in the knowledge that I was going to taste his delicious fluid. 

Steven did not disappoint. A few more thrusts and he flooded my mouth with his wonderful cum. Thrust, thrust, again and again. I counted at least seven shots that I could feel hit the back of my mouth and then some more that just added to the liquid mass in my mouth.

With my simultaneous orgasm, I just held on to his thighs for dear life as I went to my special place, loving the taste now filling my mouth. I wanted to swallow it while he was in there, but then he suddenly gave me a command.

"Don't swallow it yet."

I made a high-low humming "OK" sound in response.

"I want to see it," he said as his cock slipped from my mouth and he plopped onto the sofa.

As I showed him my liquid prize while he was staring at it, I began to smile. That was a mistake from a containment point of view as some of it began to flow out of both sides of my mouth.

"Look at that. You are one sexy woman. Bring up your hand and let it all drip down your chin and into it."

Another new request. It's one thing to blow bubbles, but now he wanted me to let it flow onto my hand.

Why not? I thought. It excited the man I loved. If he's turned on that's good, right?

I closed my mouth, letting whatever was already leaking on both sides of it continue to drip. Then I pushed my lower lip forward, almost into a pout position and let the cum flow slowly down my chin into my upturned hand.

The feeling was kind of hot as I tried to completely cover my lip and not let the cum just drip out of the center. It was not that easy to do, especially to do it slowly. Maybe I should practice this in a mirror.

Steven was watching my mouth and chin with such intensity that I don't think he would have heard a car horn. Realizing how excited he was by the puddle of cum in my hand and as long as I already had cum all over my chin, I raised my hand and leaned down to caress the pool of cum with my tongue. This bathed my chin in cum and after a minute, I lowered my hand just a bit.

"So what do you think?" I said to him.

"You have two cum strings hanging off your chin. That is beautiful. You are beautiful, amazing and fucking hot."

I could feel the cum strings and with my other hand I captured them, licking the cum from my fingers.

"Anything else you want me to do with this white wonderland of cum in my hand?"

"Yeah. Slowly slurp it up, noises and all. Then do it again."

Again, it all seemed a bit silly to me, but I thought about the woman in the video and how exciting it was to watch the cum on her tongue. That was definitely sexy.

I did as Steven asked. I slurped the cum up, making a lot of noise. Then, when I had it all in my mouth I swished it around with saliva and it seemed to almost double in quantity. Then I repeated what I did before and this time I could feel the mixture completely covering my lower lip and chin as it slowly oozed out of my mouth and into my hand. In fact, there was so much I had to use both hands.

Steven looked like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. I saw that he was playing with himself, his cock already hard and pointing towards me.

Again I licked and then slurped up the cum in my hands.

Steven said, "Hold it in your mouth. Don't swallow yet. Just hold on and come look at this."

I nodded that I understood. He got up, went to his computer and opened some videos. I followed with my mouthful of cum. There were five or six videos open on the big screen, each with a pretty woman doing something like I'd just done. Three of them were Asian, the others white.

It was kind of cool seeing other women doing exactly what he'd asked me to do. I fantasized about myself in front of a camera doing these nasty things. Then I noticed that these women were capturing the cum of more than just one guy. Most of them just sat there and it seemed like dozens of ready-to-go cocks just walked up and shot off in their mouths or on their faces. A few showed the guys ejaculating into glasses or on plates the contents of which were then imbibed.

"Let me see the cum dribble down onto the table."

In for a penny, in for a pound. Why not? I love this man and obviously this pleases him.

"Really slowly," he instructed.

His computer was on a table/desk with a glass top so I kneeled down and let the cum, which was now at the point of overflowing my mouth, dribble gracefully, if grossly, down onto the table. When done, I looked at the frothy cum-saliva mix, shiny, sexy and pretty under the desk lamp. I glanced at Steven who seemed mesmerized by the scene.

"OK. Now lick it up," he said, his eyes wide and staring at my mouth.

I made a point of smiling and even emitted a mm-mm ("Delicious!") hum as I leaned down and put my mouth and chin in the white bubbly and played with it for a while.

"Now suck it up and swallow it all," he said.

It was beginning to get more than a little weird for me, but he'd hit the nerve in me that wanted to make him happy so I did as he asked, displaying again all of his cum back in my mouth. Then, with a loud gulp, I swallowed it. Figuring it would provide more excitement, I leaned over again and made sure to lick up everything I could find until there was nothing left on the table at all.

"Did you like that?" I asked him, thinking that I did.

In response, he shoved my head over his cock and then impaled my mouth with it. At first I was thinking that it was all too much, but I could feel my own excitement build, whether from the smells, the taste, I didn't know. What I did know was that I needed him to cum in my mouth again.

Things continued like this for another few weeks. He showed me a lot of videos. He had a range of things he wanted me to do, mostly how he wanted me to play with his cum. At first, the videos didn't do too much for me, but I loved how they excited him and that was a turn-on for me. After a while though, I began to enjoy seeing a few of the women doing things that appeared to excite them. A few seemed to be having fun with it and I could relate to that.

We didn't fuck at all, though. He didn't go down on me. It was all blowjobs and cum play all the time. I felt it was odd, but it turned him on so much I wanted to keep at it, to keep giving him pleasure and, I must admit, so that I could enjoy my own pleasure.

Steven and his fantasies were becoming my addiction.

Chapter 4: Boundaries

As I said, he was caring, sweet and an all-around wonderful guy, except that our love life exclusively revolved around his cock and my mouth. I still got excited by it and I was mostly satisfied, but I knew that things would have to change if our relationship were going to succeed.

At a restaurant one evening, we both had baked potatoes with our main course. Always feeling a bit randy when I was with him, I took a spoonful of the sour cream intended for the potato on the side of my plate and played with it the way I do with him cum. I creamed it and swished it around in my mouth and then slowly let some of it run over my lip. As it was slowly dribbling down, I smiled at him.

"That's disgusting and making me incredibly horny, sweetheart."

I cleaned my chin and said, "I think I'm starting to enjoy your nutty perversions, you know."

"Yeah, it looks like it," Steven said. "I know how much you love licking up my cum. You always seem disappointed when it's gone."

"Well," I replied, "I was never this way with anyone else. You and your semen have a way with a lady."

"You know how I can make more, don't you?"

"OK. I'm game. How?"

"Deep throat me." 

I was a little surprised because I had thought I was satisfying his every desire—and then some.

I lowered my voice and said, "You mean more than I do now when you fuck my mouth?"

"Oh yeah, if you could take all of me down your throat I'd come buckets."

Right. Hmm. Of course I'd heard about it, but I'd never really tried to do it nor had I ever seen it done. I thought it was mainly a trick of smoke and mirrors or a carnival act. I told him so.

When we got home, he went to his computer and showed me some videos of women deep throating. It shocked me. I was amazed at what these women could do. Some could bury a cock so deep in their throats that it completely disappeared and their lips were circling the root, touching the guy's abdomen. A few even rubbed their tongues on the guy's balls with his cock buried in their throats. Some appeared to do it with difficulty, but others had no problems with it.

After I got over the shock, I actually asked him to show me more. There must have been a few dozen videos of women who could do this, some even letting the guy fuck their throats. Wow-wee!

"How do they do that?" I asked. Mostly it was a rhetorical question. I did not expect him to actually answer it.

I was surprised that he knew something about it. He told me that it's easier for some women than others, that it involves learning to control your gag reflex.




What I Did for Love



Since I'd become rather adept at—and could now get pleasure from—his cock rapidly going in and out of my mouth, slamming against the back, I thought it was something I could do. Plus, because I'd become Steven's cum-loving girlfriend, if it made him cum more that was cool. Playing with even more of it would enhance my sexual pleasure too. I was still finding all of this cum stuff entertaining and continued to have satisfying climaxes. My pussy missed his cock sometimes, but playing with my clitoris usually satisfied that lack.

I did my research and found some stuff about learning to deep throat. I didn't tell Steven that I was going to work on it. I thought it better not to let him know. This way if I couldn't do it, he wouldn't be disappointed. And if I could, it would be a happy surprise.

It began with the non-business end of my toothbrush. I tried to just put it on the back of my tongue. Naturally, it forced a little gag, but nothing I couldn't handle. I kept at it most mornings and before bedtime for a couple of weeks until I was comfortable with an object or my finger back there, even being able to put pressure on my tongue with no gagging.

Steven and I kept doing our sex play as he found more unusual things for us, well, me to do with his ejaculate. I'd often use a handheld mirror to find the most exciting ways to play with his cum. I wanted to find ways to make it hotter for him. I discovered ways to enrich the load with my saliva and just swishing it around and aerating it. Then I found some other toys on which to dribble it before licking it up to swallow. These included spoons, ladles, martini glasses, plates and other assorted things.

Steven even bought a few odd pieces of glassware specifically for me. He said it was for collecting his cum. It included stemware, dishes, and even beakers plus a few other things you'd find in a chemistry lab.

All I could think was: A boy and his toys. But the more I indulged his fantasies, the more they turned me on too.

A few times I even asked him to cum on a variety of foods to see if any one could improve the unique flavor of semen. The only thing I found that was truly enhanced by semen were chips, especially the spicy ones. We tried some sweets, but mostly unsuccessfully. Chocolate chip cookies were weird because they disintegrated pretty quickly, but even semen can't diminish the deliciousness of chocolate chip cookies. Ice cream simply covered the taste. Dessert wines went well with straight semen, but they're pretty expensive.

For a week or so Steven became obsessed with my eating even a wider array of foods with his cum on or in it. Then, just as suddenly as this new interest began, he moved on.

Once Steven came all over my face. He called it a facial, but not the kind I'd ever known. He did it a few more times. It wasn't satisfying for me though, not nearly as when he'd come in my mouth. However, I did enjoy watching him shoot off right in front of me. One time he did that and I played with myself. That was memorably hot. Just watching his cock shoot almost anywhere excited me by this time in the relationship. Plus I learned about and watched a lot of bukkake and gokkun videos.

A few times I suggested that we save it up for an evening to see how much cum he could manufacture. It was really hot seeing it all, but once it cools off it loses something. The smell changes and the taste is more intense and quite a bit stronger. We even tried to freeze it and then thaw it out. It wasn't great, not tasty the way it is fresh and warm. When it cools, and even more so when you freeze it and it thaws, it loses the thick and slimy texture. It becomes watery, strong tasting, but not delicious like the fresh stuff is.

One night after Steven gave me a particularly satisfying load, he told me that he loved how I moaned and made little noises when he came and when I licked up his cum. I didn't even realize I was doing that. I guess it all agreed with me and made me quite content.

All this time I continued learning and practicing how to deep throat. Having long since graduated from toothbrushes, I used a few rubber dildos I had purchased. Each night when I was alone I'd try to get comfortable with the thing going into the back of my mouth and then down my throat. I found some videos of women doing this and tried to see their techniques. Most of my research was for naught. For me at least, learning to deep throat was not something you learned from watching others. It was all about that old joke: A fellow with a violin case is standing in midtown Manhattan. He stops a man and asks "How do I get to Carnegie Hall?" The man looks down at his case and says, "Practice."

If I were going to learn to deep throat I just needed to get comfortable with the foreign object going down beyond the back of my mouth. Sounded much simpler than it was.

Nevertheless, after a couple of months I was able to deep throat the biggest dildo I had and even to push it in and out my throat. There were angles and some places that still caused me to gag, but I was quite proud of my newly honed sex skill.

Steven's work took him to conferences quarterly and the next one was going to be in Miami. So a few nights later, after a dinner and a movie, driving back to his place, Steven and I planned for me to join him for the weekend in Miami. It was during those dreary days of March when most of us Midwesterners had had it with the slush, the cold and the snow. A warm sunny beach was just the tonic I needed. 

It was a terribly cold night, way below freezing, so after getting into some unsexy but cozy PJs Steven made a fire while I sat at his dining table using his laptop to book my travel to meet him in Miami. He came up and stood behind me as I showed him the booking I'd made. It would get me to his hotel on Friday afternoon just as his conference was ending.

"This is going to be great," he told me. "We're staying at a place with a great view. We can see the skyline when we go to bed and watch the sunrise in the morning."

"I can't wait," I said, thinking that deep throating him on a balcony overlooking the ocean would be a great way to showcase my newly acquired talent.

A week or so later I arrived at his hotel. He met me at the door of his room with a single red rose, handing me a flute of champagne. I could see the sunny ocean in the background and the moment thrilled me with romance and, I must admit, sexual desire. I could think of nothing on the flight down but putting his hard cock in my mouth and sucking on it until he flooded my mouth with his cum. I might have even salivated a bit.

After getting settled we went down to the beach. The sand was warm and the sun caressed my body. My internal thermostat suddenly realized that I was no longer in the cold north, letting all my muscles relax, the tension leaving my body. I closed my eyes and relished the moment.

It was heaven. I was with the man I loved on a beach looking out at the ocean.

As I began to drift off into a nap, I imagined how much fun it was going to be when I could look up to see Steven's face with his beautiful dick buried in my throat.

Ah, yes. Life was good.

Chapter 5: Best Laid Plans

My brief siesta was just what the doctor ordered. I turned over to get some sun on my back and asked Steven to rub on some sun protection.

He went to undo my bikini top and when he touched my skin, I suddenly realized how excited I was. His touch immediately sparked my libido. I was so turned on I could only think about sucking his cock. I wanted to feel his hardness in the back of my mouth, grab his butt and then push him deep into my throat.

My excitement was so intense that I considered leaving right then to bring him back to the room to do it. I took a deep breath as his smooth, creamy hands were rubbing all over my back and shoulders. That too felt wonderful.

But since I'd been learning the technique for a couple of months now unbeknownst to him, surely the deep throat blowjob surprise could wait a little longer. I was just enjoying the warmth and the feelings of the moment.

We shared the ride with another couple in the elevator back up to the room. They too were quite pale. We smiled. They smiled back. Elevators are strange places. You share a brief moment in life with complete strangers. Then they're gone, never to be encountered again. Is that a connection or is it just a confluence of a few lives? Maybe it's the tiniest intersection of those two circles in the old Venn diagram.

I was oily and sandy and needed to wash off, so I wanted to hop into the shower the moment we entered the room. Steven though had opened another bottle of champagne. He poured us two glasses. Both of us knew we were showing no class and being a bit stupid, but we downed the champagne quickly anyway, like it was water. He then poured another for each of us. I took mine and headed to the bathroom.

"Honey, you want to join me in the shower?" I asked Steven.

"Not now, babe, I need to make a few calls," he said.

"I thought your conference was over."

"Just give me a few minutes and then come join me on the balcony."

This was going according to plan, I thought to myself. I took off my bikini, pinned up my hair and looked at myself in the mirror. Not bad, overall. There were always things I would have improved, but in general I looked pretty damn good. I was rather thin. I worked out regularly and had a nice firm but cute butt. Some would say it was a bit small, but I didn't have very wide hips. Not much I could do about that. So, sometimes I thought I was a little too long limbed, but other than getting fat, there wasn't much I could do about that either. Plus, I think my relatively narrow hips provided me with naturally thinner thighs than if they were wider.

I was too tall, just under 5'10" and at about 130, I was near the bottom of the healthy weight BMI range. However, except for pants, I was still able to find a lot of clothes that fit right off the rack. Regardless of my workout regime, this too was a gift of my genes. Thanks, mom and dad.

As I was about to turn on the shower, I glanced down, noticing my toothbrush. I immediately recalled first using it to help me learn to deep throat. A sudden rush of excitement made me tremble. My legs went weak and I had to hold on to the countertop. I could feel my pussy getting wet.

All this just from seeing my toothbrush. Wow. I needed to get in and out of this shower and get started with Steven's beautiful cock. I needed it in my mouth. I needed to see if I could deep throat him. I needed him to come.

As I washed myself, I thought more about it. Would I do OK? Could I actually deep throat his good-sized hard-on? I'd read that I should expect a real cock (versus a dildo, even a big one) to be more challenging. Was I up to the task? Would he really give me more spunk? That would be cool.

I'd really become a cum junkie. We had gotten to the point where sometimes he'd just jerk off on something—my hand, the mirror, a book jacket, even the back of my iPad—and I'd get off watching him shoot his load. Then I'd get even more turned on as I licked it and played with it, sometimes for several minutes, letting it drool out my mouth and over my chin, only to lick it up again and again.

I had become a walking porn enthusiast's fantasy. I considered this too as I washed and momentarily doubted if it was healthy, mentally. But then I found myself licking my lips under the shower and imagining Steven shooting his cum at me and into my mouth. The mental health concern forgotten, at least for the nonce; it was replaced by my sexual urges.

When I emerged from the shower, I downed the champagne in one swallow. After drying off I unpinned and then fixed my hair. I spent a few moments making myself look and smell beautiful for my boyfriend. I brushed my teeth to be even cleaner for the delightful tastes that awaited me. As I was finishing my ablutions I looked at the empty champagne flute, realizing I had probably had a half-bottle of the stuff in just the last few minutes on an empty stomach.

I had thought it was just my erotic feelings, but I realized that the lightheadedness was the result of both my libido (those damn neurotransmitters) and the champagne (that devil alcohol). It didn't matter too much. I had sucked Steven's cock both sober and drunk. There was no real difference. Either way orgasms, cum, pleasure and satisfaction were achieved. Life was good.

As I put on a bra and panties and threw on the soft cotton hotel robe from the closet, I remembered just a few days ago when Steven was relaxing on the bed watching me put on my lingerie. He asked me to do it more slowly and he pulled out his cock and began jerking off. As he got up a nice head of steam, I stopped my reverse strip show and knelt down to closely observe at his pumping action. I wanted him to come in my mouth, but I wanted to watch him shoot too.

I stuck out my tongue, trying to lick the head, but his hand was moving up and down too fast. Then suddenly he came. It might have been quick, but it nevertheless was a thing of beauty. I watched his cum shoot up and land on his stomach, his thighs, his balls and his hand. I put my fingers on my pussy and came myself. Then I leaned over. First I slowly licked the cum on his ads, but I didn't get a big enough taste so I moved to slurp up what I found on his hips and thighs. Next I licked his balls. Then I got to the best part: his hand and cock, both heavy with his hot, creamy semen. I took all I could in my mouth and relished the strong taste. I stayed there with his softening dick and some of his fingers in my mouth, loving the texture and tastes. As I said, life was good.

And now I was going to do it again.

Leaving the bathroom I loudly announced, "OK, babe, how about some more champagne. Then I want your cock to give me a mouthful of cum."

Oops!

I was glad I had clothes on, but wish I had just left it at "... some more champagne."

Three men were sitting with Steven on the balcony. They had obviously heard what I'd said and were responding with laughter and some just-for-the-guys comments the way you'd imagine. Damn! Me and my big mouth.

"I wish you had told me we had company, honey," I said, hesitating to join them.

"No, Patrice, it's OK. Nothing to be embarrassed about. These are my friends from work. They also decided to stay for the weekend."

Red-faced, I tightened the robe around me and walked hesitantly out to the balcony. Steven introduced me to Mark, Shane and Jerome. They were all district managers of other territories. All four of them were in T-shits and shorts and drinking champagne.

Handing me a fresh glass, Steven brought over a chair for me and tried to make me feel comfortable. I was still red-faced from the embarrassment of my premature ejaculation.

Plus, I was disappointed that, at least for now, I was not going to be able to show him the new trick for which I'd been diligently training. 

Fortunately, there was no mention of my explicit outburst so we all discussed the hotel, the beach and the climate for a few minutes. Several enthusiastic, but somewhat strained, comments were made about the scenic view and the colors of the ocean in the late afternoon. We all awkwardly agreed that, given the heavenly climate, it was better being here than being in Boston, Minneapolis, St. Louis, and Chicago.

A few minutes later, Steven, always coming up with something unexpected, surprised me again.

No, not just surprised me: He shocked and, for the first time, humiliated me with his next statement.

"Patty, I was telling the guys about your little sexual proclivities and they've offered to add to your pleasure. I mean in terms of providing you with a larger quantity." He had that far away look, the one where he focused on my mouth, not me, the person. "This is just if you want to, of course. No pressure. If you don't want to just say the word and it'll just be the two of us. They're out of here."

I couldn't believe him. I could not believe he would do this.

I'd known the guy intimately for months. We were together just about any time we weren't at our jobs. He knew me. I knew him. How could he possibly want me to do this?

It's understandable to explore sexual fantasies with your partner. It's completely different to share your intimacies with others. I had never spoken about our sex life with anyone. It was something you just didn't do. I thought this was true for him too. 

How could he put me in this position? My emotions ran from anger, to hurt, to disappointment, to rage, to betrayal and... I didn't even know some of these other feelings existed in me. As I said, I was stunned and, if I hadn't just downed all that champagne I would have turned around, packed up and gotten on the next flight home. Instead, without saying a word and avoiding making any eye contact with the others, I just got up, quickly walked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me.

I sat down on the stool in front of the vanity, shaking. I was feeling the effects of the alcohol and I was angry. I wanted to take some kind of action, but I couldn't figure out what to do. I loved this man. Or so I thought. Now he just wants to show me off like a trained dog.

What had I done? Perhaps more important at the moment: What should I do now?

I realize now that was another one of the events that should have motivated me to leave: For it was when the voice in my head said, "Get out, you idiot. Now!" Sadly, I didn't hear it. My addiction was too strong and I was firmly in its grip.

After some time, my anger and humiliation began to subside, submerging in a sea of sexual desire. It was truly the moment when Steven's fixations had become mine. A perverted sexual desire, but so strong I could not resist it.

I looked at the counter. I saw the toothbrush. Memories of it as a learning device excited me. Strange that something that used to gag me, was now something that turned me on. Then I looked at the empty champagne glass. I began to imagine what it would look like with cum in it. Could the cum from four guys fill it? My mind had moved from betrayal to excitement in just a few moments. I was at the mercy of my sex drive, my perverted, cum-addicted sex drive. I needed it. This was my opportunity to have it. Steven had arranged it.

So what if I swallowed the cum of other guys? Steven was obviously OK with it. Why shouldn't I be? The idea was exciting: drinking the cum from four guys. Damn.

I put both hands between my legs, the palm of each wrapped around the inside of my upper thigh. Then I pushed my two thumbs on my clitoris and rubbed for just seconds. I was surprised at how strongly I came. I hadn't been touching myself too much because of the focus on Steven's cock and his cum. But this orgasm was mine and mine alone. My body felt electric as I reveled in its paroxysms of sex for a long time. I could smell my familiar feminine aromas from the wetness between my legs.

Suddenly I needed to satisfy my fetishistic desires. I wanted, no, I needed the cum of those men on the balcony. Now.

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, in the world outside, though, things had changed. They'd changed big time. Moe, Larry and Curly were gone. Steven was standing there looking at me with his big brown eyes. The rose he'd handed me when I arrived was in his hand. He walked up to me, looked deep into my eyes. Then he gave me one of those haymaker kisses like he used to, the kind that always swept me off my feet.

It felt wonderful. This was the man I'd fallen in love with. In a flash I forgot about all the weird sex stuff and wanted to make love to him. Only him. We didn't speak a word, but he took my hand, led me to the bed, gently set me down and began kissing and licking me with a thrilling intensity. He opened my robe and continued kissing my face and my neck. I shrugged out of the robe and took off my bra.