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Suck Sisters of Seaton

By: Global Carol



Note: Suck Sisters of Seaton is longer than many other stories. It's all here, but broken into five chapters to make it more manageable. I hope you enjoy it.

CHAPTER 1

If she'd actually unzipped his jeans and begun to suck him off right there in the airport, I wouldn't have been surprised. ("The white zone is for immediate unloading of white liquids only.") She was a skinny little thing with long, straight chestnut hair, bordering on drab brown, but her smile made up for any defect. She and her scraggily young man were obviously "in lust." They were a bit saccharine for me, but her smile was infectious and lit up the late night waiting area.

They seemed young, or maybe they made me feel my age. Adding their ages together would total no more than forty. I was still in my thirties, but it was always "out there," the big four-oh. Being in your mid-thirties -- and single -- can sometimes suck.

But not at the moment, I thought upon reflection: Life was a blast. And now I was fantasizing about these two -- and still relishing the Margarita glass full of cum I'd drunk less than two hours ago.

High Plane's Sipper

Finally, the flight was boarded. I was seated by the window next to a couple not much older than myself, but it seemed like they'd simply expended all of their youthful capital and were doddering on the edge of chronological bankruptcy. They'd seen it all, been through it all, and were just going through the motions.

Yet, as I was about to discover this was far from the case. (So much for my ability to read people.) Within a minute or two I was out.

The flight attendant's disembodied voice above the background hum of the airplane woke me from a deep and surprisingly sudden sleep. Man, had I conked out! (At first I thought to myself: a cum cocktail can do that for you; maybe it contains large amounts of L-tryptophan. But then I remembered the semenal (I couldn't resist.) research I had done. At least I wasn't depressed and I may have had the semen to thank for that.) I asked for a white wine (it sounded good and seemed appropriate: "white liquid" having been the color of the evening and all). There was something about the flight attendant that seemed slightly familiar, but as I travel so much, maybe I had flown with her on another flight. I didn't give it a second thought.

As I sat there eating my "snack" (...fit for a field mouse! A condom wrapper-sized piece of foil with three or four almonds!) and sipping my wine, my seatmate turned and introduced herself.

"Hi, my name's Angie. This sleeping, and rather attractive, man next to me is my husband Steve. Well, he may not strike you that way, but he's been my Steve for more than fifteen years."

"Lisa," I replied, raising my wine glass, now feeling that these two were somehow more than meets the eye.

We chatted for a bit as I slowly warmed to her company. Still buoyed by the memories of the earlier part of the evening, I drifted off a little as she spoke.

"...I could just overhear her ask him," she was remarking, sotto voce, and in a conspiratorial tone.

This caused a tiny spark to shoot from out of nowhere to right between my legs. What had I missed?

"I've never told any stranger this, but you seem so, well, if you don't mind my saying it, 'sexually charged' I decided I'd tell you since it's got me so hot I can hardly sit still," she continued.

Sexually charged? I thought. Did my hair look as though I'd used a certain styling gel like Cameron Diaz in There's Something About Mary? Was there a condom wrapper -- or, worse, a condom -- sticking out of my suit jacket pocket?

I needed to pay attention.

Upon further inspection, Angie was actually more attractive than I first realized. She seemed fit and had a pleasant demeanor. Then I realized something I hadn't picked up on at first. How this could happen, I'll never know.

I was getting a crick in my neck speaking to her. She must be at least 5' 11" or 6'. When I put my head level, it felt like I was speaking to her shoulder. Angie was an Amazon.

Tall, very tall, slender and with a nice, symmetrical face. Blue-green eyes and an elegant nose with high cheekbones. Could she have been a model when she was younger? I looked over at sleeping Steve and tried to reconcile the two of them. She must have been four or five inches taller than he. Even as I tuned out whatever she was prating about, suddenly she and Steve became an object of fascination. Were they a marriage of convenience? Was he wealthy?

Nah. They wouldn't be cramped up, three across, with me in coach. Did she get pregnant and they stayed together for the baby? No. She mentioned that they didn't have kids.

What was it about them?

Perhaps I should have been paying attention. If I had, this next thing I heard would not have hit me like a ton of bricks -- or a surprise orgasm.

"But, the thing is, when it came to getting my semen supply, we pulled an informed bait-and-switch: she enjoyed, at first, just being the target -- and I enjoyed getting the catch," she said.

OK, Angie, you definitely have my attention now.

What are the chances, I thought to myself, that I'd get seated next to another cum lover? "Well, since we have several hours I could tell you some stories of my own regarding that lovely white man juice," I said without really thinking, "for which I have a bit of an obsession."

Then I thought: Are you nuts? You're going to share these private doings with a complete stranger?

But, in my gut it just felt comfortable chatting with Angie, like talking to an old friend.

She went on to tell me a tale that must have been the reason they turned up the A/C in the plane: the smell of vaginal juices must have initially been thought to be some devious (or deviant) attack on the cockpit. (I always love the sound of that. Too bad it's just an uncomfortable place suited mainly for flying an airplane.) I know I left a wet spot. No doubt in my mind.

Angie began by telling me that she thought the cutesy young couple, now seated in front of us, had just joined the liquid mile high club. She was sure that he'd just come from the lavatory with a paper cup filled with his semen -- on her request.

Watching what I could of the million-dollar-smile girl sipping from the cup o' semen turned me on, but it was Angie's story, the not-so-little imp (Is it possible to be a tall imp?), that was a true stunner. Angie and Steve were living proof of the old bromide, "You can't judge a book by its cover."

Angie began her tale.

OK, Lisa, I hope you don't think I'm totally weird. You see, I grew up in a typical middle-class, two-parent household and went away to Lands College, a middle-tier, pretty liberal school in western Massachusetts. During my first year of college I drove home every weekend to be with my high school sweetheart (the only boy I'd ever been with) and, except for the track team, I had virtually nothing to do with campus life. I had only cursory relationships with my roommates and made few friends. Everything I did other than studying and workouts was focused on my boyfriend.

But after I finished my freshman year, at the beginning of the summer, my high school beau dumped me for another girl. I was devastated and returned to campus life in the fall with neither any motivation nor much in the way of living arrangements. I was assigned to Seaton, a different dormitory, a co-ed one with eight suites on each floor, four men's and four women's. In each suite were four tiny bedrooms with a common kitchen and study area.

Feeling quite sorry for myself, I just went through the motions the first few days before I realized I had three very warm, friendly roommates. I could not help but love Barbara, an especially ebullient girl in the room next to my own.

If Barbara could not quite be described as breathtaking, she definitely would be among the two or three runners-up. Her face was as cute as any of the smiley-faced, toothy models in magazines. She was shorter than average height, at least eight or nine inches shorter than I and in many ways strikingly opposite. Where I sort of looked like a cross between a ballet dancer and a member of the WNBA: thin, with long, lean muscles and almost angular; Barb was curvy (and extremely busty (more about that later)), soft and adorable. It was clear, just in a glance, that neither of us would ever be able to share the other's clothing.

Speaking of which, we roommates decided to do what guys have done for who-knows-how-long: leave a piece of clothing on the doorknob of her bedroom if she had a guy in her room. It would alert the others to keep their voices down, not to barge in with some important gossip (if there is such a thing as important gossip), and especially to wear appropriate attire. At first this seemed important and it was decided to leave a bra hanging from the doorknob, but our two other roommates, the ones with boyfriends, were there so infrequently that Barbara and I soon forgot about it.

Talking after dinner one night Barbara and I shared intimacies about our courses, parents, on-line relationships and love lives. Though also just a sophomore, Barbara had apparently had quite a few lovers.

Venturing into personal space that only new roommates could, I told of my relative lack of experience and my pain from the recent breakup. Barbara briefly spoke some consoling words, but quickly followed with a suggestion of getting back "out there." It made me feel good when she told me that she was envious of my tall, graceful look of a supermodel.

Returning the favor I told Barbara that I was envious of her effervescence -- and her curves.

"My mom has big boobs -- nothing as big as yours, but reasonably-sized, um, no offense -- and always told me I'd develop and to give it time. Well, at 19, if I haven't developed them by now..." I trailed off.

Smiling with a reassurance that I had not offended her, Barb replied, "Are you kidding? You're a knock-out! You look like a ballet dancer. Look at you. You're so tall, thin, nice proportions and cute boobs. A lot of tall women look like half-backs, but you're like a Victoria's Secret bikini model. Listen, Angie, really big boobs like mine are not all that wonderful. I never even shop for bras at fashion stores; it's mail order mainly. Most of the ones I find look like something my grandmother might wear and eventually they leave marks on my shoulders or my back. The underwires poke me when I work out. And sometimes I get chaffed here." She pointed to the arc running under her amazingly round, high, and seemingly firm orbs.

"Then, try finding an outfit; it's impossible. If the top fits I have to take in the pants. Or if the bottom fits I can never find a matching top. Forget about ever wearing a bathing suit. Plus, I was in track in high school and you can imagine how people gawked. That's the main reason I didn't go out for the team when I came to school. This semester I've started a belly dancing class. And given what we need to wear for the final, I've already started to see about getting a custom-made top."

"You may have the problems that stare everyone in the face, but have you ever tried to find jeans with a 36" or 37" inseam in a size 4 or even a 6?" I asked her rhetorically. "Most stores that advertise 'clothes for the tall woman' really mean 'clothes for the big woman,'" I added in my best radio voice while gesturing with my hands.

"Anyway, I ran track in high school and they gawked at me too," I said, "but it was because I was so thin and gangly. And, don't get me started on nicknames!"

"Well," Barbara added, "I've practically got the word 'bra' built into my name twice and with this pair, well, don't go trying to one-up me on nicknames, Stick."

That made both of us laugh.

"But, mostly it's..." she said, pausing. Then we simultaneously said, "men!" and we both lost it.

"Well, Angie, it's good getting to know you. I need to hit the books."

Semen Soap

A few days later at a shared dinner in the suite (with a bottle of wine, strictly forbidden on campus) we discussed our other two roommates -- and the fact that they rarely spent time in the dorm -- basically now living with their boyfriends.

"Rachel's nice. I knew her last year 'cause we had Psych together. Selma I think I spoke to once. Hey, I'd be spending time at my boyfriend's place if I had a guy like Doug or whatever Selma's boyfriend's name is," Barb told me.

"Yeah, I guess I would too," I answered.

When we carried our plates to the sink, Barbara squirted some liquid soap from a hand-soap dispenser onto her palm.

"You know what that looks like? It looks like a guy just came in your hand," I said.

Chuckling, Barb said, "I never thought about it, but you're right. It's almost the same consistency. It doesn't have that wonderful aroma, though. And thank goodness I don't have to taste it."

"Are you kidding?" I asked. "That was my most favorite thing my boyfriend and I did. I love the taste of his cum."

"Not me. I wish I could. But it makes me gag and almost barf," replied Barbara. "I get really turned on by giving a guy head. I love sucking it, feeling it hard under the soft skin. And believe it or not, I always come just watching it shoot. It makes me so wet. I love watching it. I just wish I could deal with the taste. The smell is cool, but the taste. Yuck!"

"Really?" I paused, considering Barbara's statement. "I gave Danny a blowjob whenever I could. Sure, the 'experience' was fun, but the cum made me hot. He always thought I did it because I cared about him so much. I think I sucked him just for the juice. I loved it when he came in my mouth.

"That probably sounds weird, huh? I don't know, I liked making love -- "

"You mean, 'fucking?'" kidded Barbara.

"Yeah. I like 'fucking,'" I replied with emphasis on the colloquial correction, "but I would be content and come so much more intensely just by sucking on it and having him cum in my mouth. In fact, in June, when he broke up with me, it was the last day we saw each other. I asked him if I could suck him and he said, 'I don't think it would be fair to Cheryl [his new girlfriend] for me to have sex with you.'

"I even begged for a few minutes. That's when I started to realize: I was desperate. I thought: Maybe I've become an addict! I mean, can a girl be addicted to cum?" I giggled a little and made a silly face.

"I knew it for a fact when I asked him to masturbate for me. And he did, with attitude: Right there in my bedroom he pulled it out and without saying a word or letting me even touch him, he started jerking off, almost angrily. I took a small mirror and made him come on that. I began to come when he did, just sitting there with my clothes on, not even touching myself. Just watching each shot of that beautiful white stuff sent me into a crazy state. I came, hard, at least as long as he did. I leaned over to lick a little drop from the head of his penis, but he just flicked it onto my desk.

"Then he zipped up and walked out. (I haven't heard from him since.) I slowly licked up his delicious, plentiful load of cum from the mirror like it was a gift from the gods. I came again when I tasted it. I swished it around in my mouth and made it bubble over my lips. Looking at myself in the hand mirror, I felt like a girl from a porn video. It was so hot; and I was so bummed that he'd left. I thought to myself: Am I crazy or what?

"And then I slurped up the little drops from the desktop and, damn, if I didn't feel another orgasm on the way." 

Barb, shaking her head slowly up and down seriously, took a few moments to ponder this revelation. Ending the silence she burst into a chortle, threw open her robe and baring her truly extraordinary breasts, remarked, "I just love it when they shoot all over these puppies, and, honey, when I whip these out they always come!"

With that, we literally fell to the floor, laughing like a couple of schoolgirls.

After finishing the dishes and the bottle of wine, we poured ourselves some cognac, brought out a bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, went to the sofa, and turned the TV on softly.

We proceeded to go to town with the cognac -- and the sweets.

After ten minutes of overindulging, I asked, "Do you really have an orgasm just watching them come on your boobs?"

"Do you really have an orgasm tasting cum?" Barb parried.

Both of us were surprised and tried to imagine what the other's feelings must be like. After a moment, Barb blurted out, "We should get us a guy, one who comes a lot!"

Then, after a beat, she added, "And often."

We looked at one another with astonishment, then broke into somewhat inebriated laughter.

"To getting ourselves a comer!" I raised my brandy snifter in a toast.

Lifting her glass, Barb responded, "Here, here. Or rather: cum, cum."

We both thought about that for a moment, dismissed it and then reconsidered it more seriously.

"You know, I'll bet any guy on campus would love to see your boobs. In fact, they'd probably pay to jerk off on them," I said.

"With your beautiful, long legs and rock-hard butt," Barbara replied, "I think any guy would come if you simply offered to model a bikini -- much less swallow his sperm."

We both sat back and mused about the possibilities, a definite wetness forming in both of our panties.

The discussion continued as we talked about relationships and sex. Having felt that it was a little bizarre, Barb and I were surprised that we both considered intercourse with its concomitant kissing and looking into the eyes of the guy we were with was an intimate event in a woman's life. Blowjobs on the other hand were simply mechanical, like playing with a toy. They were fun to watch, and to do. It was, for both of us, almost as though each cock had its own personality. Cocks were fun and watching them shoot could be considered entertainment.

In this light, we decided that we were definitely not cum sluts. We were cum amateurs (in the French sense of the word), and we both wanted to become cum connoisseurs. 

Eventually we each headed off to bed and our own private fantasies, with a vague plan in mind.

Holy Moley!

I was so enrapt in Angie's story that it was a shock hearing the pilot tell the mostly-sleeping passengers that we were flying over Omaha. (Did I ask to be notified of what we're flying over? Just get me to my destination.)

The cute-as-a-button girl in the row in front had fallen asleep on her boyfriend's shoulder, no doubt dreaming of sipping semen through a straw.

Angie stopped to stretch and her fingers touched the overhead bin. This babe was tall. I could imagine what she might have looked like fifteen or twenty years ago on a runway in a bikini: Legs for days.

After a sip of her cocktail, she continued.



"You're kidding, right?" was all Leo could say. He asked three or four times, moving his eyes from one of us to the other, occasionally ogling Barb's boobs as we sat in a coffeehouse just off campus.

Leonard Kilgore was also a sophomore, on a pre-med track. He lived on our floor just down the hall. He was a nice guy, medium build, curly hair and just plain "nice." We'd met him a few times in the elevator and Barb had Microbiology with him. She'd invited him over for dinner a couple of times so they could study together.

There was nothing going on between them, and we both just liked him. He was intelligent, funny, sweet and sincere.

And now he was being asked something he'd probably never have imagined hearing from one woman, much less two.


Suck Sisters of Seaton



"That's all there is to it, Leo," Barb responded. "You come over tonight, I'll show 'em to you, and you jerk off on them."

She teased him, "You know how to do that, right?"

"You're kidding, aren't you?" he asked again. "There's a hidden video camera somewhere and this'll have a gazillion hits on You Tube by tomorrow." Well, this was before the days of the omnipresent Internet so I suppose it was more like "and this'll be on the cover of next week's tabloids," or something.

"Honestly, Leo," I countered, "There's nothing secretive happening here.

"Barb and I were talking the other night. We're both in between relationships, we both love watching a guy come, and you (a) are a nice guy and (b) seem like you would keep this private, just among us."

"So what are you going to be doing," he asked me, "while I'm jerking off in front of Barbara?"

"Leo, it turns me on too. Let's just say I'll be there to provide 'moral support.'"

"You know, to tell you the truth," Leonard said, softening to our request, "I think the two of you are so hot. You have the most beautiful butt on campus and your legs, whew!

"But I've always been a, if you'll pardon the expression, 'tit-man.' I know every big-boobed model and porn star. But, I'm absolutely fascinated with Dolly Parton."

"Dolly's not a young woman, you know. She's got to be twice your age, Leo," Barbara said.

"Well, whatever. She's got the greatest tits I'll never see. I don't know or care if they're real or not. I know every movie she's ever been in and I must have all of her videos. I must have watched Straight Talk, Rhinestone, Steel Magnolias, The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, Nine to Five, all of her films a gazillion times. No, two gazillion times, once for each boob."

"Straight Talk, that's the one with James Woods, right?" asked Barbara, "where she plays a radio psychologist?"

"Yeah. I love that scene," said Leonard.

"You mean, 'Holy Moley'?" asked Barbara.

"You got it," he replied with a smile.

I looked at them like they were nuts. Barbara explained to me that there was a scene where they finally go to bed and you hear them speaking from outside the bedroom door. Then a black bra falls to the floor and that's when Woods's character says, "Holy Moley!"

"Yeah, almost every one my boyfriends has told me he loves that scene." Barbara said. "I don't get it, though. You don't see anything except a bra." She shook her head with a grin and shrugged her shoulders. "Men!"

Eventually, dear Leo agreed. It was fun talking intimately with him in a public place about such a private topics.

We discussed our desires in more detail. He couldn't believe it. He'd never known a woman who didn't need a fair amount of foreplay, some sensuality, and digital or lingual stimulation (as well as some good ol' in-and-out) in order to climax.

We both explained that we were a little different than some women in this respect. That sounded so much better than the cum aficionadas we had agreed we were -- and an avocation at which we were hoping to improve our skills.

To tell the truth, Barbara and I were so excited we were unable to sit still all day. I saw her between classes that afternoon. She mimicked fanning her face. I smiled. Then she rolled her eyes and surreptitiously did the same thing towards her crotch. I cracked up. Neither of us could believe that we were actually going to do this.

But during my last class (International Cultures) I was visualizing a beautiful penis - the tip glistening with pre-seminal fluid, balls gently swaying to their own rhythm - being aggressively masturbated and then spewing its delicious whiteness all over Barb's beautiful breasts, hoping that it might possibly shoot a volley or two (or three) in the direction of my mouth. I had a small orgasm just imagining this anticipated and soon-to-be-real fantasy. As I came back to my senses I just hoped I hadn't let on (aurally, aromatically or visually) that I'd just come. Fortunately the lecture hall was warm and most of the other students were in their own fantasy worlds -- or fast asleep!

Barbara and I had dinner and drank a bottle of wine, deciding to offer our guest dessert and coffee. We each showered and then looked at one another like we were mad. Should we put on sweats or pajamas? They would be functional, certainly, in the sense that cum stains could be easily washed out. But how sexy would that be? We were both knowledgeable enough to know that the more excited a guy got, the more he came. (Of course for me I only knew this first hand with one guy, but still...) Or we could go with the lingerie scene. Barbara liked wearing her lacy bras and looked very sexy in them -- even if they were big. (Most of her bras had four eye-hooks; some had five.) As my top half was not what men focused on, I considered something that would show off my legs and butt.

Eventually, after shaving our various parts, putting on lotion so our skin was smooth, and generally getting as put together as we could, indulging in lipstick, eye liner, eye shadow, mascara and foundation (all of it unnecessary), we were hoping we looked like we hadn't gone to too much trouble. Barb wore a lacey short black robe over a red and black underwire bra with lacey shoulder straps and matching red and black lace panties. I chose a spaghetti strap top without a bra and black near-thong bikini panties. We were ready: we probably overdid the perfume to cover up the scent of natural feminine pheromones filling the flat.

Around ten, Leonard came over in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, looking very tense, as though we still had not convinced him that something unpleasant was going to happen to him. When he saw us half-dressed, however, he let his guard down a little.

"Leo, you look tense. Would you like a beer or a glass of something?" I asked, hoping to calm him and allay any apprehensions.

"Sure, I'll have a beer, thanks," he responded. I got the beer from the refrigerator, making a point of leaning down with my backside not far from his face, and set it in front of him on the table. I knew he was staring at my legs and butt. Then he asked, "You two are serious about this?"

"One hundred percent," Barb replied. "Angie and I were just talking last week about sex. We realized that we may be in the minority of women, but both of us get off when a guy comes."

She wisely opted to leave out the specifics of our individual obsessions, deciding that those might be better left unsaid, even if it became obvious shortly.

To tell you the truth I'd only tasted Danny's cum. Sure, I'd seen videos with guys coming by the bucketful, but I'd never tasted any except Danny's. I was a little concerned that every guy's was unique and I might not like Leo's.

Anyway, after much discussion and quite a bit of alcohol -- completely prohibited in the dormitory, as I said -- we were able to convince Leo that we were serious and we all agreed that it would just stay among the three of us.

When we all felt that it was time, all of us were silent -- and petrified! We were even afraid to look at one another, choosing instead to stare at the floor.

After several moments thick enough with the fear of the immediate reality you could cut it with a knife, in a gesture that even surprised me, I got down on all fours, crawled over to Leonard, pushed his legs apart and slowly slid my hands along his inner thighs. They felt wonderful, the tense muscle underneath his jeans.

"This is the show, Leo. Let's see if you're true to your sign, if you really are a lion. Let's see what you got, honey," came out of my mouth, but I'll never believe I actually said it. Me, aggressive?

Being so tall even on my knees I was almost starring him directly in the eyes. I smiled and after a moment when I could see the fear fading, I began to unbuckle his belt. Just touching his pants began to get me hot. Then, like a surprise firecracker, the sound of my unzipping his jeans was like a starting gun for all of us.

Simultaneously, I had a small shock in my panties and briefly glanced down between my bare thighs to see if I'd possibly left a puddle of vaginal secretions. Thank goodness I hadn't. Barbara walked over from the couch and began to ever so slowly move to the background music we'd had on the player. As she opened several buttons of her negligee, Leo stood up to help me lower his pants.

In a second we'd gone from three reasonable, slightly drunken college students to a phallic focused ménage à trois. 

Though his body was going through the procedure to help me free his cock from the confines of his jeans and underpants, his concentration seemed to be on the baring of Barb's big boobies. By now she'd stripped off the nightgown and was slowly shimmying her breasts still encased in her large and lacy, red and black bra.

As I finally pulled down Leo's underwear I was pleasantly surprised to see a very handsome penis, popping to attention not three inches from my face. His balls were nice hefty round globes in a comfortable sac with much less hair than I'd been used to with Danny.

My review of Leo's equipment made me miss the unveiling of Barbara's breasts. As I stood up, as usual towering over everyone, I saw that Barbara had removed her underwire (Wow! I'd never noticed how huge those cups were! You could honestly hold a cantaloupe in each one.) and was moving back to the sofa.

Leonard, mesmerized by her breasts could say but one thing -- in an homage to his goddess, "Holy Moley!"

"OK, dude, now that yours is out and mine are out let's see it, let's see the white stuff," Barb urged with an unlikely bravado, feeling more comfortable with the sexuality in the room.

Leo had begun to stroke his cock slowly, bringing it up to full attention. I was a bit fascinated by how different it was, up close, than Danny's. Not better or worse, just different.

I walked the few steps to the sofa and both Barb and I sat down. Leo waddled over (his pants, after all, were around his ankles) and, staring at Barbara's tits as though his life depended on it, he began to stroke harder and faster, only several inches from them. He drew a bead right on her sternum.

Fascinated by watching how he was doing his thing, I noticed some fluid at the tip of his penis. Since I had to bend over quite far to get down to check out the liquid accumulating on the underside of the head, I noticed a couple of things that temporarily stopped me in my tracks -- though the alcohol and hormones were clearly contributing to my concentration dissipation.

Never have I seen a man more zeroed in on anything than Leonard was at that moment. There could have been an earthquake, someone could have yelled "Fire!" or it might have started to sleet in the suite, but Leo would not have been aware of anything. His entire being, his glassy gaze, the tension in his wrist, the flexion of his thighs, everything his body was doing was centered on three things: his imminent orgasm and Barbara's two breasts.

As I said, I'd bent down so low to see his pre-seminal drool that I was just about eye level with and only a few inches away from Barb's amazing breasts. Now, I've never been with or wanted to be with a woman, but on reflection this pair of breasts was beautiful and most would have thought them to be fake. They were not just big. Each one began at the same exact spot in the middle of, but high up on, her chest and was both firm and yet pendulous at the same time. It was unreal, as though each was a water balloon and quite globular. They had relatively-sized, slightly darker than pink areolas (though in hindsight they were probably larger than some women's tits) and perky nipples that stared at you, daring you not to stare back.

Even though I'd seen them a few times since moving in together, now that I was comfortable examining them up close and personal they really were magnificent in every sense of the word. I'd seen men trip and walk into things while watching her around campus, but I just knew Barb had them in the palm of her hand when she unveiled them to a date. They had no beauty marks, stretch marks or any blemishes at all. They were truly amazing. And speaking of the palm of -- Oh, sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell things in sequence.

For a brief moment I was envious, but then I thought about my own assets, my slender, long body, my legs and butt. I really didn't feel wanting. Except of course, in trying to find guys my size, but being tall is just who I am and that's a whole 'nother story). In fact, I briefly thought, 'Boy, what we would look like with her chest on my body! We'd look like some superheroine from the comics.'

So, there we were. My head was inches from her boobs and his cock. Barb had begun to caress her breasts, her perky nipples becoming perkier, and then I saw her other hand moving sensuously down her belly to her panties. I could smell a whiff of Leo's maleness and, being right above her crotch, a bit of the combined aromas of Barbara and myself.

Leo was now grunting and flipping little droplets of fluid around. One or two landed on his target, Barbara boobs and a couple landed on my nose and cheek. I scooped up the fluid on my face and licked it off my fingers. Yummy.

Then -- I couldn't believe this myself -- I leaned over and licked a tiny drop from right near one of Barbara's nipples. That did it -- for all three of us.

It was just at that moment that a spark set off a chain of near-simultaneous events.

Barbara's hand had just reached her clitoris when my tongue just slid across her areolas to her nipple and, pow! It was too much for Leo and Barbara and me.

Still staring at the sex fantasy (my tongue, Barb's boobs and his cock), he let loose a spurt of sperm and seminal fluid that seemed to last for a couple of seconds. It was as though I could hear it, what with my face only an inch away. It was beautiful, white, rich, creamy and, if my tongue to tit contact hadn't quite made it happen, that spurt put the two of us with the no Y-chromosomes over the edge.

Barb was frozen, her eyes gazing intensely at the head of the penis aiming its load in her huge-busted, natural cleavage, one hand just now rapidly rubbing her clit, the other pulling on her unoccupied nipple. If there weren't neighborhood dogs rushing to our dormitory attracted by the wealth of feminine aromas we were emitting, they must have heard her nearly inaudible squeals of delight as an array of extremely high-pitched tones came from her gaping mouth.

For my part, I began to come as Leo's first volley of semen splashed onto Barb's skin. It ricocheted off her right breast and then onto my face. That did it for me; I couldn't take it any longer. I reached over and grabbed onto his cock and aimed it into my mouth. From three inches away I didn't miss a drop of the second, and much larger, spurt. It was like putting your mouth under a faucet and turning on the tap. That one spurt seemed to completely fill my mouth with the most amazing, tasty, luscious cum. (I hate to admit it, but it was so much better than what's-his-name, my former boyfriend.)

That went on for what seemed like a few minutes. Leo kept on coming on Barbara's tits and into my mouth, Barbara kept coming, and I kept coming. I reluctantly swallowed each time -- temporarily aiming it back at her boobs -- but I didn't want to miss too many shots.

Finally, Leonard's orgasm began to diminish. I swooped my mouth over the head and sucked for all I was worth, licking around until he begged back because of the intensity of the feelings in that pretty little head of his.

But, I was a madwoman, I needed all of that cum. I began to lick the gobs of white liquid gold that were all over Barb's amazing chest.

And, if you don't mind my quoting this line from Seinfeld, "They're real and they're spectacular!"

Each time I licked, Barbara had another spasm of delight and each time my tongue found another rich puddle I savored the tingling feel of it on Barb's soft, smooth boobs and then the taste as I swirled it into and around my mouth. I had just one, long come.

When I'd found all the cum there was on her chest I saw a few on her thighs and, without giving it a second thought, dived for those with my tongue. Being only inches from my roommate's most intimate parts was a bit strange, but that lasted just until my taste buds received their prize, licking her soft, smooth thighs. Eventually, I got off my knees and sat down on the floor with my back against the sofa, still gazing at Leo's now-shrinking penis and Barbara's beautiful, slightly saliva-coated breasts. I had no shame about what I'd done. It had felt completely natural, and I think I'd had the largest and/or longest orgasm I'd ever had.

Barbara was still on a roll, her hand beginning to slow its movement in her crotch. Her mouth was still open and some sounds were emanating, but her eyes were now closed and she had not returned from planet Orgasm.

As for Leonard, he'd collapsed onto the armchair next to the sofa, his cock still in his hand, his mouth also open, but his breathing was beginning to return to normal. His cum had been so voluminous, I was thinking about his astrological namesake as Leo the Lion!

He had finally stopped staring at "the twins" and his eyelids were starting to droop. I, personally, was hoping for some more of the white stuff, but maybe he needed a nap. It was getting late.

Several quiet, feel-great minutes in which we all luxuriated passed. I again surprised myself when I crawled over the two or three feet, across Barbara's legs (taking the opportunity to take one long slow soft swipe with my hand to caress her from breast, to belly, and down along the inside of her thigh) and sucked Leo's cock into my mouth down to the base and licked his balls with my tongue. (I told you that I'd had a great deal of experience with my old boyfriend, um, Danny. Yeah, that's right, good ol' Danny.)

Leonard started to get hard again, but, well, you probably don't want this old lady yacking away at you all the way to Chicago, do you?

What? What did she say?

OK, then. Let's take stock of reality, I said to myself. You're sitting here next to a complete stranger named Angie and her fast-asleep husband named Steve. And for the past three-quarters of an hour Angie has told you a story that was so erotic and so "up your alley" from a somewhat sexually obsessive viewpoint, that you've probably had at least a few small orgasms just from listening to this wet, wickedly wanton, wonderful tale.

"Say, Angie, that is no way to end a story," I told her. "You can't simply leave it at 'Leonard started to get hard again...' You've got to tell me more.

"I mean, I've really loved every minute of your story. In fact, I, myself, am something of a cum-lover: no more than three hours ago I drank a Margarita glass full of the semen from about a dozen guys' orgasms."

"No way, dude!" Angie outrageously replied.

"Listen, let me get up to take a pee break and you can continue when I get back. I travel a lot for business, but this is the best flight I've ever been on without actually having sex!"

"You're on," she replied.

And with that I stumbled to my feet, not worrying if I'd left a puddle on my seat, and headed for the lavatories.

* * * *

CHAPTER 2

Most of the plane was either asleep or watching an edited-for-air-travel version of the latest political thriller or shoot-em-up. Some were doing a little of both. When I came out of the lavatory, I saw that same flight attendant sitting in one of those fold-down seats.

"You've been on my flights before, haven't you?" she asked.

"I knew you looked familiar," I answered. "Probably. I cover most of the west and southwest for work."




Suck Sisters of Seaton



"My name's Roberta, and I think we met once a long time ago," she said.

"You know, I remember that too, but I haven't a clue when it was. My name's Lisa, by the way."

"Nice to meet you -- again," she said.

"I'm in the middle of the telling of a great story by my seatmate so I've got to get back. I hope we can talk soon, Roberta," I said and walked down the dark aisle.

When I got back, Steve was still asleep. Angie gave me a bright smile that just beamed. I could picture her fifteen or twenty years ago, in heels walking down a runway. She must have been a knockout.

She moved her knees to let me by, and, given the length of her femur, that was quite a trick. As I leaned forward over the seat, I noted that the "cute couple" was fast asleep, with Miss Cumsipper sucking her thumb. Honest. How appropriate, I thought to myself and smiled, thinking: I know she's going to find a way to suck him off in their seat (I know I would have.) so I need to watch how creative she can be.

Angie continued her story right where she'd left off.



The Lion Sleeps Tonight

...so he'd just finished this huge ejaculation not ten minutes before and I'd crawled over just to suck up any errant droplets. The best way I knew to ensure a thorough job was to take him deep enough into my mouth such that none of his cum would get away.

But, as I was tonguing his balls with my nose pressed into his abs, he started getting hard again.

There's something about youth being wasted on the young, isn't there? Was it Mark Twain? I don't know. Anyway, I had him in an awkward position for deep throating and I pulled him slowly out of my mouth. In the ten or twenty seconds that took, he'd gone from "I just came and I'm too sensitive so leave me alone" to "I haven't come in ten minutes so let's do it again." Leo was turning out to be truly a lion.

I smiled and looked over at Barb, now the first and only woman with whom I'd ever had sex -- even if it was above the waist and cum-covered breast kissing. Seriously, it didn't feel uncomfortable at all. In fact, I knew I was feeling warm and a little woozy and wonderful. I just wanted more of what Leo had to give. And from the look on her face I could tell Barbara wanted to watch it again.

The two of us just looked at Leo's hand rubbing himself while he was staring at Barbara's boobs again. Hey, if we could stare, he could stare, right?

Well, a good time was had by all. In the next two or three hours, Leo came three more times. The first two seemed to be as large if not larger than the first. The last one was a little bit thinner, but still, I mean, four orgasms is serious work. As far as my count went I think I had an entire evening filled with one long orgasm, simply experiencing peaks and valleys.

Barbara actually gave him a titty-fuck the second time. I knew she was no stranger to this position because as he was getting close she moved the party into her room and the three of us got on her little bed, angled in such a way that we could see our reflection in her mirror. I was surprised to find that she took out some sex lubricant for her massive cleavage. I got to lick up the whole creamy delight, both his cum and her soft breasts again.

The third time Barb was beginning to fade out and actually dozed off so I just stared at his cock until he was about to come at which point I opened my mouth, and stuck out my tongue to provide a landing strip for his volleys of semen. That first mouthful (of his third climax!) gave me my biggest orgasm of the night. I totally lost count of how many I had, but that one was amazing. I closed my mouth and felt and tasted the cream coat my tongue and fall towards the back of my mouth and I must have lit up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. Wow. I do love cum.

All of us must have conked out for a few minutes. After that pause, though, Barbara seemed to be the most clearheaded as she reached into her nightstand and pulled out a condom. Barbara wanted to get laid and she would not take no for an answer. Leo was awakened by the gentle perfectly done fingernails of my roommate rolling the condom onto his rejuvenating cock.

No sooner had she put it on him, before she put herself on him. Plop. It just slid right into her. No foreplay, no teasing, no nothing. She just sat right down on him like she was sitting down on a bicycle seat. I think she would have been what guys call a "spinner" if she'd had normal sized breasts, but hers were so massive that it belied the fact that she weighed all of a hundred and five pounds, soaking wet.

It was the first time I'd ever really seen two other people, live, fuck. Neither one of them lasted terribly long, but they were awfully loud and got me quite excited, my mind bouncing between my roommate and her boobs, my dorm buddy, his cock, the three loads of cum I'd slurped and swallowed -- and how I was hoping to get some more.

Just watching got me extremely hot and I began to egg them on: Come on, come on, come on, I chanted in rhythm to their frenetic movements as I, for the first time all evening, barely touched my clit with just my index finger. No more was necessary. I came again.

And at that very moment, they both let out one simultaneous "Ooh!"

And, if I may quote Hamlet, "the rest is silence."

Well, it wasn't complete silence. I was saying that for the effect. Leo grunted each time he shot into her and Barbara echoed her own stratospherically-pitched pianissimo responses. Eventually, she fell onto his chest.

That was all well and good for these two fuckers, but I wanted my just desserts. I crawled back onto the bed and pulled his penis out of her. Afterwards, I mused about this intimacy and was actually a little shocked at my actions, I mean here I am with my hands and face at the interconnected crotches and the butts of my roommate and a guy I barely knew. But, at the time I wanted-- No, I needed the white stuff.

I sort of gently, well, actually, I rudely took hold of the base of his now-wilting cock and pulled it out of her. Without any delicacy whatsoever I rolled off the condom, brought it up to my face and stared closely at the relatively small amount of cum in the tip, feeling a little disappointed, but still excited.

Barbara and Leo were now lying there, looking up at me in a bit of amazement. Would I actually be so licentious as to slurp the semen from a used condom?

Hey, they came their way. I'll come mine!

I put the round circle into my mouth -- tasting another woman's vaginal juices for the first time -- pulled the tip straight up and squeezed slowly down like a toothpaste tube. Little by little, but without missing a drop I got my creamy reward.

Tossing the condom onto her nightstand, I dropped back down onto the bed in between the two of them. Being the tallest, I put my head on the headboard and my arms around both of them. Barb and Leo pulled up a sheet.

I looked down at Barb who gave me a twinkling smile. I could tell she was feeling as wonderfully satisfied as I was. We both looked over at Leo who was out like a light.

Simultaneously we both started to sing in a whispered tone.

"Awimaweh, awimaweh, awimaweh, awimaweh.

"In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight..." 

I couldn't believe how much I was engrossed in Angie's story. When she stopped to catch her breath I realized that, at least for the time being, the storytelling was having an intermission. What a disappointment. I was having so much fun I didn't want it to stop.

"Angie, what a night! I can't believe you were nineteen when you did that. You must have felt so free and so sexual. It seems like you were so comfortable with your sexuality."

"That I was. That I was," she replied. "But, that was just the prelude. If you're still interested, I'll tell you about, well, the first act, so to speak." 

"I'm all ears," I said. 

She excused herself and got up to take a pee break. 

* * * *

A moment after she left, my flight attendant friend Roberta was walking down the aisle and stopped by to say hello. We chatted for a moment or two about flying near the holidays, the crowds, drunken passengers, the usual strangers-on-a-plane stuff. 

Then we each felt some recognition of the other, that there was another connection we had from the past. "Did you ever spend time on the coast of Maine?" she asked. 

"I grew up there," I replied. Then I had a realization, "Wait a minute. You didn't spend a night in the marina at Wells Beach, did you?" 

"You weren't there the night that..." she began. 

"You mean, that was you?" I responded, my jaw dropping. 

I looked at her. She looked a little like the college girl I remembered. Now I was trying to remember the name of the 'older' woman from that crazy night from so long ago. Yes, it was Bobbie. Bobbie had to be short for Roberta. 

At that moment Angie returned. She looked at the two of us, staring at one another. 

"Do you two know each other?" she asked. 

"Uh. Um. Uh," was all either of us could muster. 

"OK," she said. "This sounds good. Let me get Steve to bed over in the middle and you need to tell me what looks like an interesting story." 

She woke Steve up, introductions were made and Roberta got him a couple of pillows and blankets. He smiled briefly and went to conk out in the empty seats in the middle aisle. 

"Roberta, you weren't called Bobbie, were you?" I asked. 

"It was you, wasn't it?" she responded. 

"Listen, if you two don't tell me what's going on I'll whomp you both," said Angie, "and I'm big enough to do it." 



Spoiled Seaman

I began to tell the tale, "The summer after I'd graduated high school I again worked for my best friend's father who managed a marina near Wells Beach on the Maine coast. My friend Elaine and I were inseparable. She and I had worked there every summer, gassing up boats, selling ice, renting out slips, and even varnishing and polishing, you know, decks, masts, teak, whatever.

"This summer we had told ourselves we were going to get oral sex. Neither of us had boyfriends who wanted to do it. They said we smelled or something. Duh! Of course we smelled. We smelled like women. Horny, soon-to-be-in-college women and we didn't want to get to college having given oral sex, but never having received it.

"You know how guys can be so excited when you're sucking on them, but as soon as they come, they fall asleep or have to go or whatever.

"Even though I loved sucking on my boyfriend's cock and drinking his delicious cum, no one had ever eaten me and I wanted to know what it was like. I enjoyed playing with myself, but thought it would be great to have a guy lick me.

"All summer Elaine and I kept trying to figure out who might be good candidates and then to figure out how to get them to put their mouths where our honey was. We tried to imagine what it would be like to have guy's tongues on our clits. We figured it had to be as good as masturbating and probably better than good old screwing. Intellectually we knew it probably wasn't too much more than coming from either one, but it was still an exciting proposition.

"Our boyfriends still refused to do it for one reason or another and it was, by now, mid-August and we were both about to go away to school. Our goal was quickly becoming a mission seemingly impossible. We began to get desperate as we saw our opportunity to 'become true women' slip away before heading off, as it were.

"One day, the week before we were to leave, Elaine and I found the perfect tongue-ster. He was an 'older' and sophisticated man. (You have to remember, we were eighteen. He looked almost old enough to buy alcohol; to us, that was an older man.) When he came into the shop he, Jeff was his name, told us he was a senior at BU (Boston University), that he had sailed his uncle's boat in for something and would be there for the night, staying on the boat, a pretty 37' cutter-rigged sloop, before sailing back the next day.

"We did our best to flirt with him and he seemed to be getting very interested. We made all these stupid allusions to almost anything oral. (I'd be so embarrassed today to hear whatever we said to him. Thank goodness there was no one in the shop!) Anyway, we offered to party with him that night. Our plan was going well, we thought. Elaine and I were so excited, we were ready to beg him to lick us right there on the counter -- in exchange for almost anything he might have wanted.

"But just as I was thinking of throwing the coy, flirting routine in the can and saying 'We'll both give you a blowjob, just eat us out!' what do we see come into the shop? His girlfriend, Bobbie, very chic in an expensive bikini and sarong, sunhat, $300 sunglasses, the whole thing.

"And, I must admit, she was a babe," I said, smiling at Roberta who still looked great.

"He introduced us and we saw our opportunity slip away with Bobbie's arrival. Though we both wanted to hate her, it turned out that she was really nice and they invited us to party on the boat with them that night. Since both of our boyfriends were out backpacking on the Appalachian Trail somewhere we said it would just be the two of us. They said, fine.

"We thought our fantasy was not going to happen, but at least we'd have a nice time on their luxuriously decked out boat.

Roberta picked up the story from there saying, "The four of us ate -- and drank -- on deck, but as the evening cooled down we moved to the main cabin below. We put on some music, smoked a joint and opened another bottle of champagne.

"When Jeff came to the galley to help me with the dishes he suggested a plan that sounded perfect for one of my fantasies."

"And," I interrupted Roberta, "at that same moment I was making a plan with Elaine on how we would fulfill our fantasy. It was to be an overly orchestrated night.

"When they came back from the galley, Bobbie said she was getting tired. Elaine and I were both getting wet between our legs, hoping we could move the conversation towards oral sex -- in a subtle way, of course."

Roberta added, "Yeah, real subtle! If I hadn't said something obvious like 'So, can either of you deep throat a guy?' you'd still be giggling and not saying a word to this day."

"We weren't that bad were we?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"Anyway," Roberta said to Angie, "One of my fantasies had to do with my deep throating skills. Believe it or not, I wanted to show them to another woman. I don't know why. I guess it's because the only people who ever saw me Do it were men. I wanted to show off.

"We all talked about oral sex, blow jobs, and fucking -- and almost anything else that would normally remain private -- because of all the stuff in our systems.

"I was getting tired though and after half an hour, decided that showing off my throating skills wasn't going to happen that night. I excused myself and the three 'party animals' continued talking as I went to the little stateroom foreward."

I picked up the story, "So Elaine surprised both and maybe all three of us and blatantly stated to Jeff, 'You know, I've never been licked.' I don't know where she got the nerve, but there it was.

"Jeff told us that he should get some shuteye or Bobbie would have a jealous fit, but to quietly come to the hatch above the foreward stateroom and he'd take care of both of us.

"We didn't need any more convincing than that. He just added that we needed to stay quiet.

"So, half an hour later Elaine and I had gone to the shop, washed ourselves, put on 'enough eau de toilette to fill a French whorehouse' and were waiting on deck when the hatch opened and Jeff popped his head out.

"He whispered to us that Bobbie was asleep and that we should sit next to one another with our touching legs dangling into the hatch and the other spread eagle abeam on the deck. Then he told us to lie back down and he'd eat us.

"We did exactly as he told us. He licked, kissed, tickled and stimulated both of us to the point that, well, for me, I just couldn't stop coming. It was hard not to cry out, but I didn't want to wake Bobbie. I was lying there staring up at the stars while Jeff alternated between Elaine and me with his lips and tongue. Each of us giggled when we would feel the other's hand also gently stroking his head. Life was wonderful.

"Then I started to think about Jeff. What was he getting out of all of this? I could hear him enjoying himself with an occasional moan, but I just thought it was the pleasure of licking us," I said, and paused for a moment. "I mean, I make sounds of delight when I suck.

"Then enigma was compounded when a few days later Elaine received a postcard in the mail from Bobbie in Boston that said, 'Thanks so much for everything. I know Jeff loved eating the cherry pies. I wish you could have seen the look on my face, but I was just too full. Good luck at college. Your friend, Bobbie.'

"That was the last time we heard from Bobbie. Of course, I've seen Roberta on a number of flights since I've been traveling for business, but since it's been so long I never recognized it was 'Bobbie.'"

"I should probably tell the rest of the story," Roberta began. "You see, I really did enjoy giving guys head, and I had worked hard through college practicing my deep throating skills on any guy that came along. Jeff was the perfect size and shape and I loved it when I'd give him a deep throat blowjob, especially when I'd lie on my back with my head off the bed. He'd just stand there and fuck my mouth and throat.

"So, unbeknownst to the two young women up on deck, getting their pussies swabbed by Jeff, he was simultaneously buried in my throat and I had my nose hidden between his balls. It was wonderful. I could hear the girls on deck trying not to make noise. I could hear the effects of everything I did to Jeff by his moans and groans. And I reveled in my creative genius at making this all happen without letting the youngsters up on deck know a thing."

"We figured that she somehow knew that he'd eaten both of us (hence 'eating the cherry pies,')," I added, "but we could never figure out how she knew unless he told her or what she meant by 'I wish you could have seen the look on my face, but I was just too full.' Now it all makes sense. You little turd," I laughed.

"I didn't think it was anything that you girls were thinking was anything but a little recreational sex," Roberta said. "I can't believe that was you, either. On one level it seems like so long ago and on another, it seems like just yesterday."

We continued chatting for a few more moments. She and Jeff had broken up after college. She'd married another guy a few years later and had two kids, but once they went to school she became a flight attendant. Then she got divorced.

"Before you leave, I've got to tell you that I became quite good at deep throating because of your tips for relaxing your throat," I proudly said to her. "You told us about it that night, but we didn't figure that was what you meant in your postcard, which Elaine still has by the way. Geez, I mean, what else could you have meant by 'I was just too full'?

"So, you were an inspiration for this 'youngster' to learn and develop as a human being, a woman -- and a sex fiend!" I finished, smiling.

"I am glad to hear that my misspent youth was not wasted," she said and then added, "I should probably see how the rest of the passengers are doing. See you later."




Suck Sisters of Seaton



All of this talk of sex and memories had made me so horny that I would probably have come if we hit a little turbulence. In fact, I know it sounds weird, but I was kind of hoping we would.

Wanting to hear more about Angie's college adventures, I said, "I can't believe that while my friend Elaine and I were losing our lingual-clitoral cherries to Jeff, he had his cock down Bobbie's or should I say Roberta's esophagus. He must have been a very satisfied customer.

"But, enough about my ancient history, let's hear more about the story of Barb's boobs, Leo the lion and your cum obsession."

Angie continued her story.



Rich Cream Filling

Well, we woke up the next morning and we all felt pretty OK about the night. We also decided to try it again. Everyone was more than satisfied by the previous night's events, so we figured, why not?

It was decided to save "the event" for Friday or Saturday nights when none of us had other plans and we could sleep in since our roommates were never there on weekends. This went on until winter break.

A few days after I got home to my parent's house, it felt like it was time to get some cum and since Leo wasn't available I didn't know what I'd do. He was with his parents a thousand miles away in Chicago. By the end of the second week I was getting desperate. I couldn't wait for my cum source to deliver the goods and by the time I returned to school I was ready to walk into the nearest fraternity, get on my knees and say 'ah.'

Leo returned to school the same day I did, but Barbara didn't return for two days. I let Leonard fuck me a twice, but only with a condom so I could capture his cum and drink it. In addition I sucked Leo three times each of those two days. I counted. I mean, classes hadn't started, exactly, and a girl gets thirsty, right?

After Barbara returned, things went pretty much the same way for about a month: Leo would come over for dinner on Friday nights and the three of us would come and come and come. Sometimes we added a Saturday. Barbara still loved watching him come, but she was getting bolder with his sperm. She'd tried to lick it off her boobs a few times and was OK with that. Then she let him come in her mouth.

It was funny since you could see she really wanted to try to swallow it. (Of course, I was disappointed that I wasn't getting to taste it.) She sat there and gave it the old college try, but her body just wasn't cooperating. She gagged a couple of times, like she had the dry heaves and ran up to spit it out in the sink.

I wondered if Leo thought, "There went another novel."

On a Friday night in February, just after our first set of exams the three of us were sitting around at the table in our suite, Leo having just arrived. Barbara asked Leonard if he'd take his cock out so she could suck it, while I was beginning to sauté some chicken breasts. It had been a stressful week and Leonard had not masturbated, he informed us, in several days. It wasn't going to take him long to come and he knew that Barbara, though she was getting better, still couldn't swallow.

As he leaned over to rub Barbara's breasts through her t-shirt and bra while stroking her head with his other hand, he noticed a package of Oreo Cookies among some other groceries on the table.

"Hey, Angie, since you're such a cum fan, how would you like to have an Oreo with my special cream filling?" he asked me as Barbara's hands and mouth were bringing him closer to his first orgasm in several days. "I'm ready to drop my load and it's going to be a biggie. Wouldn't you like a cum appetizer?"

Now I've never been terribly strict about most things having to do with protocol, but my mother taught me that you don't spoil your dinner by having dessert first. Nevertheless, I thought the whole idea of eating cum on food was very exciting, so I responded by asking them to try to hold off for a minute, finished sautéing the chicken, poured in the wine, chicken broth, onions, mushrooms, thyme, and other things I had ready for our coq au vin, turned down the heat, and put the lid on it.

I reached into the cabinet and took out a package of Reduced Fat Wheat Thin Crackers.

I walked over to the table, sat down, opened the package, took out one little cracker, put it on my outstretched palm and said, "OK, Leonard, let me have some cream dip for my cracker."

Between the hand job he was giving Barbara's boobs, one of which was now exposed like a huge, pink grapefruit living on her otherwise clothed chest, her bobbing head, the feel of her tongue and her soft, firm, luscious lips, and the exciting thought of coming on the cracker on my palm, he was more than ready. He almost roughly yanked his cock out of Barb's mouth and immediately began to shoot volley after volley of semen onto the cracker. By the fifth or sixth one you could no longer even see the poor little Reduced Fat Wheat Thin. In fact, I had to cup my palm to keep the whole load from overflowing. It looked beautiful and delicious, plus I enjoyed the warm spurts on my hand almost as much as I enjoyed the stimulating aroma.

Maintaining my hand in just that position I leaned over and sucked the remaining drops from Leo's cockhead and fingers, making a little spermy mess on my face that tingled delightfully. That sent me off on a surprisingly short but intense orgasm. I shuddered and closed my eyes momentarily, not even thinking about the pooled appetizers in my hand. Wow!

That, I thought, was totally cool. I opened my eyes and saw Barbara with her hand down her jeans, her eyes almost closed, but still staying focused on her crazy roommate's cum covered cracker. Leo had dropped onto a chair, but was also staring at my palm. 

As all eyes were on me and I had had my warm-up climax (That must be an oxymoron!), I brought my semen-besotted palm to my lips. So much sensuousness: The cum shined brightly in the neon ceiling lights and the aroma itself was exciting me again.

I dipped my tongue into the pool and simply moved it around my palm trying to locate the cracker. Between my tongue's initial tasting of the cum and the feeling of it caressing my palm I began to squeeze my legs together as another slow-moving orgasm started from deep inside me.

My tongue made contact with the edge of the cracker, but I needed to taste more cum. I needed it in my mouth, so I pulled my tongue back into my mouth, put my lips onto the surface and, in a very unladylike gesture, slurped a good amount of cum into my mouth. It was like nectar of the gods. My orgasm continued, growing bigger, as I moved the semen around my mouth, under my tongue, mixing it with my saliva. I opened my mouth to show "the gang" how much fun I was having, slurping it down my lip, onto my chin and then sucking it back in several times. Then I bubbled it between my teeth as I smiled with my lips coated with half of Leo the Lion's large load.

Deciding to try something I'd never done with cum, I gargled with it. I made gargling noises that seemed to fill the suite.

Eventually I swallowed the yummy gargle.

Now excited to taste food and cum together for the first time, I reached with my dry hand to pick up the semen saturated Reduced Fat Wheat Thin. I lifted it the two or three inches to my mouth, daintily put it on my tongue, closed my mouth and chewed.

The cum had cooled to room temperature by now and it was strange, yet exciting. It tasted exactly like a cum-soaked cracker. The texture of the cracker was no longer exactly recognizable as a firm cracker. The texture of the semen, however, was still there and I enjoyed that. It almost felt like the cracker got in the way. I told myself, though, that maybe this is an acquired taste, like caviar. Letting the food and drink combination sit in my mouth was just fine. I enjoyed the semen flavor and by now the cracker just added to its saltiness. I was thinking about a cum chaser, though, and wondered if Leo could get it up again before dinner.

"Oh! My! God!"

Surprised, no, really shocked by those three stunned ejaculations (I love using that word even when it doesn't refer to sex!) the three of us looked to see from whence they came.

Standing at the doorway we saw Rachel, her jaw lowered, mouth agape, eyes wide open. Our roommate picked that moment to come home. 

I'm there with a palmful of semen, a mouthful of cum-on-a-cracker. Leo's there with his pants and underwear at his knees, his little lion smiling with its one eye at the throng. Barbara has this one giant jiggling jug sticking out of the top of her top, its nipple and perfectly round areola starring back at Rachel, a very wide white bra strap exposed, sitting on the floor on her knees, and a hand vigorously moving in her crotch. All three of us not three feet from one another.

No one moved -- except, of course, Barbara.

* * * *

CHAPTER 3

"Oh!

"My!

"God!"

Rachel had obviously entered while I must have been mid semen gargling (not a construct I hear often, but sounds like something done below deck of a Nimitz-class carrier) because we never heard the door open.

The three us of caught in flagrante delicto must have been quite a sight. I still had a supersized load of semen on my upraised palm, Leonard with his pants and underpants at his ankles sat in a chair and otherwise-clothed Barbara had one of her giant boobs staring straight at our surprise visitor with her hand viciously rubbing away between her legs. Oh, what a sight. No wonder Rachel had a look of utter disbelief on her face.

For several long seconds no one said anything, Rachel's three staccato interjections having pretty much said it all.

There didn't really seem to be much point in any of us hiding anything or trying to make it not look like what it was.

As the seconds passed Barbara kept diligently working towards her goal, ultimately coming with a serious song of delight. (Good for her, I thought, this is a girl who can stay focused!) Leonard and I enjoyed Barbara's joyful noise and I could see Leo's little lion begin to stir.

I finally decided to take some action -- as my recently interrupted and now simmering low-key orgasm wanted to come to fruition -- and began to chew and then swallow the semen-laden Reduced Fat Wheat Thin Cracker that had been sitting in my mouth. This and the continuing climax initiated minutes ago, in turn, caused me to breath even more heavily through my nose. (It's amazing how breathing through your nose seems so inadequate during sex. On the other hand I'd been taught not to chew with your mouth open and I certainly was not going to break that rule at this juncture.)

In any event, a round of orgasms continued for 2/3 of the females in the room until finally our breathing began to return to normal just as Rachel slowly raised her lowered jaw and started to breath again.

Finally, Barbara and I both said quite casually, "Hey, Rachel. How're you doing?"

Leo picked up a hand to wave slowly in a circular movement and then continued the movement in a very nice wide arc ending directly on his prick, almost like a slo-mo replay of a receiver reaching for a ball in a football game.

"Rachel," I said, deciding for the nonce that there really wasn't much else in the way of other stimulating conversation, "Would you like some semen?" Then I pointed like a spokes-model with my free hand to my coated, upraised palm.

She still stood there, aghast.

"OK, then, more for me," I said. I proceeded to suck up the remainder of the pooled cum in my hand, lick the whole thing to get every last drop, and have a nice little temblor, just a 3.8 or 3.9 on the Angie-Richter (Isn't that the name of a comedian?) scale, not large, but more than enough to enjoy. 

I licked my lips, took a deep breath, savoring the cum-tingle in my throat, opened my eyes wide and focused on the still-voyeuristically-paralyzed Rachel, while licking any cum I missed off my fingers.

"You're all... I mean... Angela, you're all -- spermy!" she stated, chronicling the obvious. "Barbara, you've got semen staining your top. I won't even ask which one of you is having sex with, I mean, who is or what is..." she stammered, not sure exactly what to do or say.

Forget about the sex. With the three of us in various states of sartorial disgrace, it appeared it was all too much for her. She crossed the common room, taking off her coat, walked into her own, rarely used room, and closed the door.

The three of us were still on a post-sort-of-but-not-quite-coital high. We looked at one another, smiling. After a few moments, the smiles became broader until we all were rolling on the floor with laughter.

As I said: oh, what a night.

Booby Dancing

The next few weeks saw some slight shifts in us all. Barbara became more comfortable with and actually began to enjoy when Leonard came in her mouth. Of course, she still couldn't swallow it, but we thought she was getting closer.

As men have explained it to me, having a nice, warm, wet mouth and tongue to come in and on is where the magic truly is. The swallowing, I'm told, is sexy, but the coming is the prime time event. It's weird. Men just can't enjoy the blowjob. They feel a sense of disappointment if we don't swallow. What's that about? Does swallowing make the blowjob any better? How can that be? If you hold a cock in your mouth until it's returned to normal non-aroused size and then take your mouth off it, the blowjob is over. I'll never understand why what a woman chooses to do then with the cum matters.

Now, for me personally, it's the taste of the cum that's at least as big a turn-on as any other part of sex. And I can't imagine why any woman would want to dispose of it anywhere but down her throat. Then again, I may be in the minority on that point. In fact, one night on a bet, I held Leo's semen in my mouth for a couple of hours. I kept it there, trying not to bulk it up with saliva until he came in my mouth two more times that night. My jaws were a little tired, but it was fun. The taste kept exciting me each time, though I must admit it was hard to not swallow when Barbara baked some chocolate chip cookies. They smelled so good. It was a conflict, but I came so hard just by swallowing if you can believe that. I won the bet too, but that's really another story. Let me try to stay on track.

We all became very comfortable with our sex trio act. Leonard never complained about wanting more fucking or more sucking or anything. Barbara and I were feeling more and more comfortable about our sexual encounters as they were on occasion bordering on the homosexual, but never overtly or overly so. Licking cum off her tits was a turn-on for all of us.

Things continued this way for another few weeks. We never saw Rachel again after that one night and none of us even heard from her. Whenever her impeccably timed presence came up in conversation it always ended with "Let sleeping dogs lie" "No news is good news" or occasionally something relating to fixing unbroken things, unopening cans of worms, or Pandora's box.

For whatever reason Fridays were our primary night. We still hadn't told anyone about our unusual encounters and we were all busy with school and other activities. Each of us would go out on an occasional date, but our Friday night sexual encounters appeared to keep our sex drives reasonably under control, hormones notwithstanding.

I must admit, though, that it was around this time that I had a minor revelation that I simply didn't want to admit to myself: I began to crave more semen, but I also wanted to be in a steady relationship. (I mused about the words "paradox," "dichotomy," etc.) I didn't have a guy in mind, I just began to feel that these sexual escapades were fun, but empty. Yet, how could I possibly be in a relationship and have more cock and cum?

On a Wednesday evening Barbara, smiling grandly, met me at the door when she heard me opening the lock. "He wants to bring his roommates," she announced with a clear mixture of apprehension and anticipation.

"He wants to bring his roommates?" I mused aloud quizzically. "Hmm. Has he told them? What will that do to 'the arrangement'?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "Can you imagine? Four cocks."

"Barb, you're supposed to be the one with all the experience, remember? Leo's cock doubled the total number I've known intimately, you know, face to face. You mean, you've never been with a group? I know we've never discussed it, but I expected you with that body of yours would have had at least a little gang-bang experience."

"Well, yeah, but it was more happenstance than planned. I was kind of young and still all lovey-dovey with this guy when I was a senior who said his friends were-- Oh, never mind. This is just so cool. I'm like totally stoked."

Then upon reflection she asked me, "Do you know his roommates? Who are they? What do they look like? Are they cute? Are they nice guys?"

"Ahh," was all I said, considering that we pretty much had no idea who they were.

But, hey, in the spirit of "you're only young once" we decided to recite that wonderful quote from the Tom Cruise flick of long ago, Risky Business, where his buddy Miles always tells him when he starts to question if he should do something: "Sometimes, Joel, you just have to say 'What the fuck.'"

Plus, when you did the math there'd be two cocks apiece, three or four orgasms each... It was the first time mathematics had ever physically stimulated me.

We invited them over for dinner.

So that Friday Leonard brought the three roommates over at 6:30. None was an Adonis, but they were pretty nice guys, not too good or too bad to look at and we figured that they must have the equipment, and expected that it all worked as it was supposed to work. In other words, we'd get our cum.

We were up pretty late that night. I think each of the guys had three or four orgasms. I lost count of my own at an absurd multiple of a two-digit prime number. (You see, I told you math suddenly became very erotic.) There was lots of sucking and even a reasonable amount of fucking.

As we were still playing with foods and cum, we experimented with that, too. I had cum on toast (kind of boring) and a cum-drenched chocolate chip cookie (a little too chewy). I finally had a couple of cum-filled Oreos. And for your reference, they're better when the cum's still warm. Plus, you have to eat them open-faced or when you put the top on, the cum either gets absorbed by the cookie or it squirts out the side. I also had a cum-coated Reese's Peanut Butter-filled Chocolate Cup. That was really good. (It was not a night to count calories!)

The next night, we all (the six of us) decided to go to an early movie. It was a fun night, getting close to Spring break, and still quite cold. On the way back to the dorm, the six of us went into a market for a few things. One of the guys found something I still find exciting to this day.

Everyone was tired and the guys were a little sore from probably eight or ten orgasms in the past day or so (as Friday night's events continued well into Saturday morning). When we got back from the movie Barbara and I gave everyone a round of blowjobs. (I got to do all the swallowing, of course, but Barb could suck with the best of them. She occasionally tried to swallow, but I took her aside and told her that watching the look of her retching was not attractive. She decided she'd continue to try when it was just Leo. Good idea, I told her.)

Afterwards we opened some champagne to celebrate the arrival of mid-terms and anything else that seemed appropriate.

Barbara still had energy, but I was beat. I begged off any more of our quirky oral sexual delights and went to take a nap to in my room.

I slowly woke up an hour or so later - feeling very peaceful and rejuvenated - to the strains of what at first sounded vaguely like instrumental "world music," percussive and exotic.




Suck Sisters of Seaton



Then I looked in my mirror and became very afraid. What a sight!

My hair was a mess, caked in spots with dried cum. I had dried cum on my cheek, forehead, nose and chin. My eyeliner was, well, as I said, it was frightening.

I washed the dried cum from as much of my face as possible, put a brush through my hair, put my hair in a quick ponytail and the covered it with a baseball cap.

I threw on a baggy t-shirt and a pair of boxers and I walked out of my room to see a sight you don't see every day.

The lights were out. There were half a dozen candles around the common room. There were at least six or seven people standing or sitting around, illuminated by candles placed in such a way that was reminiscent of a Georges de La Tour painting (without any of the religious themes, of course), you know, rich fall colors of umber and ochre caused by the candlelight, but with lots of deep shadows.

Some sort of middle-eastern, tintinnabulating music was playing, but sounded so extremely present, as though someone had upgraded our sound system.

It was pretty dark, but I saw a girl sitting on the couch, seven or eight guys standing or sitting -- most of them using their hands.

In the center of this tableau was Barbara, dancing in an amazing outfit.

I'd forgotten that she'd told me she was taking belly dancing this year. She never said much about it other than complaining once or twice about how hard it was finding a top for her costume.

She looked beautiful and moved with such sexual power and sensuality, I became turned on immediately. She wore a low-slung belt consisting basically of golden chains and other baubles over a thong. Her cheerleader-cute legs were partly covered in some see-through material draped from the glittering hip-belt. In each hand was a pair of finger cymbals and there were many golden bracelets at her wrist and one or two on her upper arm. She had an anklet or ankle strap with shiny metal on one leg that also tinkled when she moved. But the most amazing thing was her top. It was basically a very dark blue bra over which were applied some gold and silver patterns that, though probably there to be decorative, served only to emphasize the size of the cups. It was as though her bra began low on her rib cage, not that far from her belly button and extended up and out in a semicircle finishing back at her upper chest near her clavicle.

I knew she would not have purposely made herself look even bigger than she naturally was. Yet, whoever made this top must have wanted her to look like she was holding not breasts, but soccer balls in each cup. Wow! I would be walking into things too if I'd seen her like this on campus. (Of course, my tongue and an untold countless number of sperm had been having an intimate on and then off relationship with those breasts for the past several months.)

I could not see all of the guys, but I know one was Leonard -- and his roommates were there. In addition, there were two guys playing instruments: something that looked like a lute and something that looked like a small hourglass-shaped conga drum.

Then it dawned on me that one of the other guys was Doug, Rachel's boyfriend, and that the girl on the couch was, in fact, Rachel. None of them saw me as I came in from behind them, and, though she was facing in my direction, Barbara was so into the movement of her hips and legs, she didn't see anything other than a cohort of comely cocks all pointed in her direction.

It was wonderfully sexy seeing all these guys with their hard-ons out, stroking themselves. At first I felt a little sorry for the musicians. Then I realized that most of the music was coming from the sound system; they were simply adding some live quality to the recording -- and both of them had their little guys out too.

As I said, Barbara looked beautiful and sexy. She danced like a professional; I was amazed at how well she could belly dance. One could actually notice it -- if you could tear your eyes away from her boobs. Few appeared to notice her slender waist, relatively small but feminine hips and cute, toned runner's legs.

What was truly a surprise was seeing Rachel. We hadn't spoken to her since the night she saw us on the floor. It turns out, part of her amazement was how she thought it was very sexy seeing us like that. Feeling like she might have been missing out on some entertaining events on campus, she decided to bring Doug and one of his roommates to the dorm to get to know us and just to spend time there. In addition, the two musicians, who played regularly for Barb's class, completed the array of men: eight men in all.

"You know, I need to take a potty break. I promise to continue this when I get back if you really want to hear it.

After she left I considered this erotic tale of a sophomore year in college. Two semesters, but, boy, what semesters! I briefly thought about her grades and those of Barbara. Then I thought about Barbara and those boobs. I wondered if they were still so big and round after all these years. Or, were they literally down at her navel. Nature and genetics can be so cruel sometimes.

The next thing I knew, I was inhaling the fresh, effervescent aroma of a glass of California champagne. I must have fallen asleep, but under my nose was a wine glass filled with the bubbly. Angie had come back with a towel inside of which was hidden a newly open bottle of champagne, compliments of Roberta.

As I reoriented myself and brushed some crumbs off my blouse, I looked over the seat at the "cute couple." You guessed it. She was completely covered by a blanket with her head in his lap. I saw a little movement, but, hey, when I've been in tight or semi-public places I've put a cock in my mouth and milked it with my mouth and throat with just that little amount of movement. It may be a little excruciating for the guy but eventually he'll come. Now, I don't know if she was awake or asleep, whether he had it out or not, but somehow they made the opportunity present itself. Good for them. The more cum the merrier!

"Please don't stop your story," I said to Angie. Then I added, "Gee, you've got me so excited. And I don't say that often to women!"

Anyway, I forgot to tell you about the thing Leonard's roommate found at the market.

Angie continued.



For several minutes I stood there, amazed by Barbara's hip's sexy and intricate movements, the stares and glazed looks at the guys around the room, and how vigorously several of them were stroking themselves. I knew that if I were in there, doing the old play by play, I'd have been licking my lips, getting ready for a big one. For now, though, I was getting excited by this X-rated de La Tour tableau.

There was one thing I didn't see, though, and it was a tribute to my little Barbara, always selflessly thinking about her cum-on-the-addled-brain roommate. On the coffee table around which everyone was squeezed, was a champagne flute partly filled with the semen from every guy there. Eight luscious loads, just sitting there.

After I'd gone to nap, Barbara had asked each if he could cum again. (It turns out that not only did watching cocks shoot their stuff turn her on, but watching me imbibe it pushed her over the top. Women! Go figure!)

So she'd decided to suck and jerk them all and then to collect it all in the champagne glass. I don't know how she did it, but she had managed.

I hadn't discovered this yet, but I finally moved slightly into the room and tried to find some space on the carpet so I could watch the show. But, it was when Barbara saw me that things began to get interesting.

Her gaze met mine and she didn't miss a beat, in fact, she made a fast gesture to the musicians and I noticed that a laptop was plugged into the sound system. The drummer then hit a button or two and the beat picked up markedly -- as did Barbara's body movements.

As if on cue everyone, including Rachel, said in unison, "She comes to partake of man's essence."

Had I been asleep for a year and all of these pod people had taken over my friends' bodies? Or had they been initiated into a coven presided over by head witch Barbara?

Actually, it was none of these. They had just talked about my little obsession and Barbara's little obsession, and, well, one thing led to another and yada yada yada, there was a half-filled champagne flute of semen that was about to become completely filled.

The speed picked up for all concerned. The movement of Barbara's body, the jingling of her chains and finger cymbals, the stroking of the guys' dicks, and the energy and tempo of the music all quickly rose to a fevered pace.

Then I noticed Rachel was wearing only panties. I'd hardly ever seen her and here she is almost naked, and, in case you were wondering, she had a very respectable rack!

I noticed because as everyone was reaching a fevered pitch, she leaned over, and picked up the champagne glass. Next, she knelt down on the floor in front of Doug, sucked him deeply into her mouth, then jerked him, with a deftness only long-time lovers can know, directly into the glass. He shot a beautiful volley of semen against the side of the glass. That began to put me in an orgasmic state. Between the lighting, the music, and the intensity of close to a dozen part-friend-part-strangers participating in a "partaking of man's essence" scene how could one help but have an orgasm.

Just as Doug finished dropping his load into the glass, Barbara, now in a heated glow, put her arms behind her and began to shimmy as the music hit a climax. Suddenly, her top, the one large enough to hold balloons came off and flew across the room, landing in a corner.

The music crashed and stopped. All that you could hear was Barbara's rapid breathing and a chorus of groans, moans, and rapidly rubbing flesh.

Rachel darted her hand directly into her crotch and that was the end of her being the glass-passer. She managed to give it to Doug's roommate and then collapsed backwards against Doug's knees the moment he fell back onto the sofa.

Barb was staring intently at the glass and the cocks that were feeding it, her voluminous breasts, shimmering with a hint of perspiration. The guys were so excited that they seemed to orgasm at about the same time.

It was clear that there was a problem with this: there was only the one glass and the guys were having multiple orgasms (You go, guys! I thought to myself.)

I was still unclear on exactly what I was supposed to do (even though I was very clear on what I wanted to do). Barbara, God bless her, took control of things. She grabbed the glass from whoever had just finished coming in it, plopped down on her knees on the low coffee table and put the glass between her breasts. Then she rapidly said, "Come here. Come on, come on, come on."

Since the glass and her boobs were the center of attention anyway, it all made sense to put one and two together (sorry, couldn't help it) and every one who was ready to come shot on one of her boobs or in the glass. As each guy finished it seemed there was another ready to take his place in the batter's box (or would it be the pitcher's mound?? Sorry, if I'm mixing metaphors.) This continued for another few minutes. Amazingly each had come within a few moments of the others. (I wondered to myself if there was a hormonal thing like women who live together all having their periods at the same time. Then I decided it was probably just the extreme, odd, rare situation. Most guys don't get to jerk off on a beautiful woman with an extraordinary body on an average Saturday evening filled with blowjobs and champagne.)

While the guys were doing their thing, the three of us girls were going to town with our own little buttons at such a rapid rate that I thought we all might get carpal tunnel syndrome if we weren't careful. Nevertheless, everyone came within a few minutes of one another.

Finally, the guys all fell back either on the sofa, a chair or the floor, though none could take his eyes off Barb's boobs. I thought they looked even bigger than usual, but it was probably just the lighting and the pheromones.

Barbara had one hand on the glass and one in her pussy, the latter now still and pressing firmly as she made her almost inaudible high-pitched come song. Even Rachel was comfortable enough to moan aloud as she joined the gang in this ultimate sexual experience.

A few moments passed. The guys had all begun to soften while we girls had had some amazing climaxes of our own. The only sound to be heard now was deep and slowing, but still faster than normal, breathing.

Slowly, Barbara got off the coffee table, carefully brining the nearly full champagne glass towards me.

I licked my lips in anticipation. This was fascinating, an absolute turn-on, and I was scared out of my mind. I began to have concerns about doing it. Licking up cum from her boobs or on a cracker or from a condom was one thing, but as I tried to calculate the amount of semen in the glass coming toward me, I had second thoughts. This would be a moment of truth. Would I become a true cum guzzler, living up to the legend that had really not quite preceded me or would I find the amine-rich liquid to be a little more than I could handle. It was one thing to have it warm or relatively so. It would be another to have a few ounces of fresh, mixed with a few ounces of, well, let's say, more mature semen. There is never a shelf-life stamp around when you need one.

With a smile, she kneeled down next to me, put the glass on the floor behind her, put a hand under each breast and held their white coating up towards me. I smiled back, darted my tongue out of my mouth for a second, and dived into her cleavage, feeling semi-warm wet cum on my cheeks and chin. I began to lick and slurp up every drop I could find. Knowing how much Barb liked the feelings, however, I probably spent a little more time on her areola and nipples than there was semen there. What a turn on. She had the greatest -- and only -- tits I ever sucked on, but when they were covered with cum how could anyone resist.

Ultimately, there was no more luxurious liquid on her chest. I looked over to the gang and saw that all the guys had gotten semi-hard again. Rachel was just staring at the two of us, but clearly she was anticipating watching me drink.

There comes a time in a young woman's life when she has to decide if she's going to keep playing it safe, doing what she's always done, or if she's going to boldly go where she's never gone before. I knew I was at that crossroads as Barbara's breasts faded into the background and the lovely crystal champagne flute floated in front of my face.

I took the glass by the stem. The cum almost reached the top; there was less than half an inch of unfilled space. I briefly thought about how different the glass looks now than it normally does when filled with, say, a blanc de noirs. It was white and opaque rather than straw-colored and transparent. It had bubbles, but there was no movement. It was warmish, not cellar temperature. My mind was getting off the subject as I was stalling for time to make my decision.

It turned out that the expressions on my friend's faces made it for me. When I looked over the gang there was such excitement, anticipation, and animal lust in their eyes I knew I had to drink this glass filled with two rounds of their juices.

That turned me on like a light bulb.

I took one last whiff of the aromatic liquid, put the glass to my lips and drank in a mouthful. It was thick, creamy, exciting, and uniquely delicious. I bubbled it around my mouth; then I opened my mouth to show everyone the white wonderliquid. Though it was still quite thick I was able to swallow. It was then that an orgasm the size of a Peterbilt 389 hit me. I was gone.

I wanted more of it, I needed more of it. I turned the whole glass almost upside down and drained it into my mouth. I didn't care about its thickness, sliminess, warmth or lack thereof; all I cared about was putting it inside of me. I was having an oral orgasm. It felt as though nothing existed except my tongue and my throat and my quickly warming tummy.

Finishing the glass, I licked the inside as best I could then I used my finger to scoop out the rest. I then used the fingers of both hands to scoop up any more from my face, chin, eyebrows, anyplace where I could find it. As long as I kept tasting more, I kept having my orgasm.

I looked over to see if there was anything left on Barbara boobs, but saw none. I crawled across the floor to the guys and licked each one's head for anything left over from the last orgasm or anything newly developed since.

Eventually my orgasm died and after that performance I must say the only dry eyes in the place were those on the one-eyed mice.

* * * *

Several minutes passed and we all just sat there, satiated, but still with a slight buzz of excitement in the air.

"Barbara," I broke the silence, "you were wonderful. I can't believe how talented you are. Your dancing was breathtaking."

"Thanks, I've really been enjoying the classes. It's not track, but it's a good workout and it's one of the few exercises I can do and not feel like my boobs are a hindrance."

"Yeah, where did you find that top? You were complaining about not being able to find one in your size."

"It turns out my teacher is pretty large breasted and she knew a woman who makes custom belly dancing clothes," Barbara said as she got up to retrieve her top.

"Yeah, Barb," Leonard asked, "how big are your boobs?"

For whatever reason, that hit a chord with her. "You know," she responded with more than a little frustration, "what is it with men? What is the big deal about numbers? Why can't you just enjoy? I mean, I have large, large breasts. If they're a 32G or a 38F or a 30 triple D, what the hell does it matter?"

Leonard looked like a school kid who'd just gotten a scolding from teacher.

"Geez, Barb, I'm sorry. I guess you're right; it's none of my business." he sheepishly replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry I chewed you out. It's just that it's my body. I didn't ask for them to be this big. And, on someone as small and thin as I am, they just stick out like, well, like a huge pair of boobs on a small, thin woman. Sometimes my back hurts, the underwires always chafe me, I can never find clothes that fit, and mostly I can never talk to anyone, male or female, and have them look at my face!"

There was some discussion about the size of boobs in general and how guys can't understand how uncomfortable it can be for a woman. Then one guy talked about men in the Renaissance wearing codpieces and how they would often stuff them with material to make their package look bigger.

"We should do that today," someone suggested.

"Hell," Leonard said, "I still just want to know what size bra you wear."

Barbara picked up a pillow and threw it at him, now laughing with the group. "It ain't gonna happen. If you like my boobs, fine. If you don't, fine. Whatever size they are is none of your business."

"Guys need numbers," Leonard said. "We live for quantification: How many times did you come? How big is it? How many days have you gone without coming? How far can you shoot? How much can you shoot?

"We think about these things all the time. How much can you press? What's your GPA? Whatever! I just want to be able one day to say, like in the Dolly Parton movie, 'Holy Moley!'"

"Not gonna happen!" interjected Barb.

After some more friendly banter Barbara got up to get some more champagne out of the refrigerator and some sweets.

"Wow, Angie," Rachel said, "That was amazing. I don't think I've ever seen that much cum, even in porn. And, I've never seen anyone drink it like that. You must have had about twenty loads of semen."

"Yeah, it's weird. The stuff is such a turn-on for me. I have the biggest climaxes when I taste it," I said. "I guess I'm every man's fantasy -- oh, except for the lack of boobs, of course.