The Ecstasy of an Oral Connoisseur

September 3, 2005 | Category: Confessions, Sexblogs

Back in August, I offered up my own responses to a sexuality quiz that was doing the rounds at the time. Question 19 was:

What is the most interesting place you have received oral sex? And who gave it to you?

I didn’t have a really exotic place to offer. My development in that particular field of sexual activity is evidently stunted. But I did say that my most interesting place was probably the bedroom of a beautiful, sensual forty year old woman, where I was able to watch everything that happened to me in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that lined one of the walls.

This is that story.

The truth is, this is not an entirely new tale. In ‘The Allure of Mrs Robinson‘ I mentioned an older woman called ‘S’, and the impact that she had on my life during my late teens and early twenties.

‘S’ and I worked for the same company, back when I was a horny teenager trying to earn enough money to maintain my social life through college. The company employed a number of women in their thirties and forties, and to every one of them, I was mere tease fodder. Looking back, I realise now that I never stood a chance. My co-workers were married mothers, jaded, cynical and bitchy to a woman. To use a crude colloquial, they were women who would have torn Carrie Bradshaw and her effete Manhattan princesses up for arse paper.

The work was not enormously taxing or diverting, and so to sustain themselves through the long days, the women would devise increasingly Machiavellian forms of entertainment. Teasing the teenager was one of their favourites. Most of the time it was merely a case of them taking advantage of my youthful naïveté. But when they were feeling especially malicious, they turned my own rampant hormones against me. I lost track of the number of times I was treated to a glimpse of bountiful cleavage, or a flash of comely thigh. On one occasion, one of the women came into the canteen while I was on a meal break and proceeded to leisurely adjust the fastenings of her stockings and suspenders in front of me. It’s little wonder I’ve got a rampant fetish for the damned things now.

Some readers - the male ones particularly - might read that last paragraph and wonder what the hell it is I’m complaining about. But I’m not complaining. Not really. I’m just recollecting a time when I felt pretty helpless. On the cusp of adulthood, I still chafed under my parent’s rules. I felt compelled to study maniacally for exams that were allegedly going to be the only difference between a life of success and an existence of mundanity. I had a social life whose true potential was never going to be met given my limited finances. And I had sexual appetites that seemed to grow exponentially by the day, but a long-term girlfriend whose libido could be most kindly described as ‘glacial’. Having the shit teased out of me by a gaggle of horny middle-aged women was not good for my ego, or my blood pressure.

And tease me they did. They drew a sadist’s pleasure from cataloguing the various shades of crimson they managed to turn my face, and I lacked both the confidence and sophistication to fight back. It wasn’t that I felt belittled. No. I felt led on. It was like having to watch a posse of beautiful naked girls wantonly beckoning to you from behind a wall of six inch thick Plexiglas. Time and again, my cock was coaxed into a state of readiness, without any prospect of release, and to my chagrin, my work trousers did little to mask the succession of erections I endured. All I could do was lay in my narrow bed at night, wanking myself senseless as I pictured myself entwined with my various tormentors. I probably imagined fucking them all at one time or another.

‘S’ treated me a little differently though. She still teased me along with the others, but I always felt something else with her, an added frisson. The other women were lionesses who were only ever interested in toying with their prey. But when ‘S’ regarded me, it was as though she were contemplating an extremely hearty meal. And I liked it that way, because of the women I worked with, ‘S’ was the one who figured most prominently in my nocturnal fantasies, the only one I genuinely desired.

In time, I finished my exams, and left the familiarity of home and family behind to begin my career. My work was taxing and diverting, and as a result, I quickly gained the confidence and sophistication I’d lacked previously. Glacier girl had long since been disposed of, and I’d finally begun to enjoy encounters of the flesh that lived up to the fevered depictions of my imagination. It was a good time.

Four years after leaving, I bumped into ‘S’. I was in my old home town, buying a few supplies in a high-street store, and ‘S’ turned out to be the manager. She was as attractive and effortlessly feminine as I remembered. Catching up with her was easy, natural. When I was ready to leave, asking if I could take her out to dinner almost happened by itself. To say I was smiling when I walked back out onto that busy street would be an understatement.

At this point, bullshitting would be distasteful: when I drove to pick her up from her home, I hoped that our evening out would culminate with an offer to share her bed. I wasn’t consciously thinking in such mercenary terms. I liked ‘S’, I mean really liked her. She was intelligent, witty, feisty. Our past conversations had been lively and free-ranging. In short, she was fabulous company. But she was also an attractive, desirable woman, and though I wasn’t consciously thinking “drinks + dinner + entertaining conversation = passionate lovemaking”, the equation was certainly there in the back of my mind. I know, I know: I’m a cad. But at least I’m a self-aware one.

It was a good evening, but the conversation - whilst wonderfully entertaining - was a long way from being sexually charged. I’d actually begun to mentally down-shift, to get into a platonic frame of mind. I was disappointed, but I don’t think it showed. I was enjoying myself too much for that to happen.

It was on a trip to the bar to get a drink that I realised that chastity was not to be on the menu. A bronzed mirror lined the back wall of the bar, and as I waited for our drinks to be poured, I caught the reflection of ‘S’ watching me intently. I affected nonchalance, ignorance, but as her eyes swept over me, her gaze seemingly lingering on my backside, I felt a subtle charge running up and down my spine. When I went back to the table, I knew that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

When we pulled up outside her home, she smiled casually and invited me in for coffee. I waited in the lounge while she busied herself in the kitchen. When she came into the room, she had a bottle of Chablis and two glasses. “I thought this might be a little more enjoyable than the coffee.”

We sat side-by-side on a big leather sofa, sipping our wine and chatting. Under her helmsmanship, the conversation began to take a decidedly sexual turn. ‘S’ asked gently probing questions about my previous girlfriends. She teased me about Glacier Girl, speculating that she must have frozen me stiff. I swallowed my wine with some difficulty, fighting the urge to fidget. ‘S’ turned towards me a little more, and the base of her wine glass pressed against the outside of my thigh. As she spoke, she gestured with her hand, and the edge of the thin disc of flame-blasted silica ran softly up and down my leg. Suddenly, I was inside the eye of my most intense fantasy, the one that swirled with worldly women with a taste of life, and a desire to tutor me whilst milking me of my youthful vigour. The Chablis was spiked, infused with dark, sexual magic. In half a bottle, I’d been transformed into Benjamin Braddock, and Anne Bancroft was inching expectantly towards me.

“Would you do me a favour, EA?” she asked, her sultry eyes looking deep into my own.

“What?” To my ears, my voice sounded more befitting of a desert survivor.

“Would you make love to me?”

And with those six words, I rediscovered my balls. I put my own glass down, relieved ‘S’ of hers, and then kissed her. She may have been beautiful, sensual, worldly, not to say much older than me, but she was still a woman, and I understood how to kiss them. Her mouth was slow and warm and moist, and she tasted of Chablis and passion. I broke the kiss reluctantly, and whispered, “Yes, I think I could probably manage that.”

We kissed on the sofa for a time, and then she took me by the hand and led me upstairs. She didn’t allow things to progress too far in the lounge. “I want you in my bed,” she said with a sigh. It was as though she’d peeked inside my mind and stripped the dialogue direct from my fantasy.

The mirrors were the first thing I saw when we entered her chamber. They might well have been sited there with more practical intentions in mind, but I instinctively knew that ‘S’ was a woman who enjoyed watching; watching herself, watching herself being pleasured. The implication daunted me, made me hesitate. ‘S’ didn’t mind. She took charge effortlessly, stripping me to my shorts - “Mmmmmmm. Boxers,” she’d cooed as my trousers hit the floor - and then disrobing herself as far as her lingerie. White lace. Very chaste. In my fantasies, she’d always worn the deepest blacks and most shameless reds. Stockings too. In reality, her slender legs were bare. I had a flash of insight, that the real world should not be used for the blow-for-blow recreation of our fantasies. Disappointment is likely to follow.

‘S’ pressed me back against her big bed, eased my boxer shorts down my legs. My erection sprang forth, eager for her inspection. I waited for her judgement.

“Lovely,” she said with a wicked smile.

She unclipped her bra, revealing beautifully full breasts capped with hard, maraschino-pink peaks. She crawled over my body, brushing her nipples against my thighs, making me quiver like a virgin. She worked her way up to my mouth, kissed me deeply, then worked her way back down. I started to sit up, but she placed a restraining palm against my chest.

“No. I want you just to lie back.”

FellatioAnd then she started to lick me. Her tongue danced around the insides of my thighs, over my balls, along the inside of my groin, across my belly. It never stopped, and it never touched my cock for a second. After an age of delicious torture, her tongue flickered along the length of my shaft, hesitating just before it reached the underside of my cockhead, and then reversed its course, tracing a second shining path along my trembling length. She painted my cock with her tongue for another age, getting closer to my cockhead with each upsweep. I turned my head to watch her reflection licking me. I’d become my own porno star, in my favourite porno fantasy. I was also in an ecstasy of nonfulfillment. My body begged for her to lick my straining glans, to suck me deep into her soft, knowing mouth. I watched, bewildered and bewitched, as a clear drop of precum oozed from my cockhead and descended into my navel.

Finally, she gently guided my erection back to the vertical, and engulfed me with her mouth. I wanted to scream out, but I had no words, no voice. I was stunned. Her tongue was raw silk, swirling about my flesh in a slow blur, endless in its inventiveness, unending in its giving. I’m painfully aware that my words will never be adequate enough to capture the majesty of her mouth, but I can say this: if there is fellatio in Heaven, then this is what it feels like.

‘S’ seemed incapable of tiring of fellatio. She loved the act, perhaps even loved my cock a little. She even seemed able to gauge the rise of my passions from the flesh and blood thermometer in her mouth. Each time I felt myself getting close, she would instinctively ease back on the stimulation. As the level of my sap fell, she would deepen the sensations again. It was like surfing endless waves of pleasure, and I didn’t even have to move. I just watched the reflection of her mouth rising and falling over my shaft.

And then she pulled back and stood up, easing her panties off. A narrow strip of coffee-coloured hair adorned her mound, enticing my eye downwards. She knelt on either side of my legs, working her way up the bed, up me, bringing her sex to my cock.

“Ready for some real action?” she asked.

Real action? I thought incredulously. I looked up at her doubtfully. “Are you sure you’re … ready?”

‘S’ smiled, nodding. “Normally, I need lots of foreplay. But I’ve been so turned on today, all day, thinking about you, thinking about this…” She took my hand, pressed my fingers between her thighs. The lips of her sex were full, engorged, her sex itself open, gaping, soaking my fingertips with its juices. “I just want your cock now.”

Woman riding astrideShe eased herself over me, until the tip of my cockhead nuzzled at her clitoris, then her sex. Without hesitation, she lowered herself onto me, taking my length in one long, fluid descent. She rode me for a long time, longer than I thought possible after the stimulus of her mouth. She ground out one orgasm against my pubis, fingered herself into a second while her free hand cupped and squeezed her breasts fitfully. My eyes alternated between watching her caressing herself, and the reflected sight of my cock, made hard and slick by her cunt, as it glided in and out of her. Finally, ‘S’ rolled off me, pulling me with her, somehow keeping me inside her. She brought her thighs up around my hips, rocking against me as her voice and her body urged me on, urged me to fuck her, fuck her, harder, faster, yes, yes, yes, until I knew that I’d passed the point of no return, no stopping, no delays, no refunds. I wondered if she wanted me to withdraw, but she locked her ankles behind my arse, pinioning me inside her, binding me to her.

“That’s it, EA, come, ” she whispered. “Come, come, come.” And so I did as I was told, spent myself deep within her, my seed splashing hard and hot against her womb. And then, drained and content, we lay gasping in each others arms.

Would you be surprised if I told you that that wasn’t the only time we fucked that night? Or that I saw ‘S’ again?

I didn’t think so.

But that’s another tale, for another time.

If you’re good.


 
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8 Comments

  1. The Girl on September 3rd, 2005
    1

    Goodness me.

    Here I was, just checking in, and I find this: a beautifully descriptive and wonderfully stimulating story.

    How am I supposed to concentrate on other things now?!

    It’s a privilege to be a distraction for you, Girl … be that fleeting or otherwise.

    ~EA

  2. Ellie on September 3rd, 2005
    2

    This is an amazing story. Incredibly well-written. Not to mention what it has done to my train of thoughts . . .

    Thank you, Ellie. And it was a pleasure de-railing you…

    ~EA

  3. Scribe called Steff on September 3rd, 2005
    3

    That was enjoyable.

    Thank you, Steff.

    ~EA

  4. A.Cat on September 4th, 2005
    4

    Wow what an awesome sensual story. I enjoyed reading every minute of it. Thanks for sharing.

    You’re welcome, Cat. I’m delighted you enjoyed it so much.

    ~EA

  5. Goose on September 4th, 2005
    5

    Oh my you speak to my heart. I’m married and happy but deflowering a young man is a favorite of mine.
    Thanks,

    Goose

    Hello Goose:

    I hope that it’s a fantasy that yields as much pleasure to you as it did to me…

    ~EA

  6. Rosie on September 4th, 2005
    6

    The thought of ‘teaching’ a young man is such a great fantasy. And your telling of the tale was wonderful - such impressive oral action.

    I’m flattered, Rosie, thank you. And I’m pleased to have been able to offer up a fantasy you enjoy so much…

    ~EA

  7. gman on February 4th, 2007
    7

    I think I’d give it another try? :!:

    Is that so? Any particular reason why?

    ~EA

  8. kimmie on November 8th, 2007
    8

    “No. I want you just to lie back.” …what more could you ask to be told…sometimes us girls just have to take control x

    And I for one am more than happy to relinquish control…

    ~EA

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