This is the second story I've written about auto-fellatio--sucking one's own cock--not to be confused with the practice of mouthing the tailpipes of motor vehicles. Read "Auto-Fellatio" if you like the topic or want some more background for this story.
As soon as I found out there was such a thing as dick-sucking, I knew it would definitely feel great. At the time, girls were not exactly knocking my door down to give me head, so I decided to see if I could do it myself.
I am naturally very flexible, and had no trouble getting the head in my mouth, and with a little practice, could get it about halfway in. It felt even better than I imagined. Around that time, I was taking voice lessons at school and learning diaphragm breathing. I discovered controlling my breathing was a key part of relaxing, so that you are not straining.
Later, I told my couple-of-years-older girl cousin, and she was fascinated with what I could do. She was a ballet dancer, and taught me some stretching exercises that increased my flexibility. Soon, the controlled breathing and flexibility exercises, coupled with strong motivation and natural limberness, combined so that I could suck my own dick down to the base with minimal strain and halfway down in complete comfort.
For me, fellatio is like yard work. I greatly enjoy the result, so will do it myself, but I'd much rather kick back in a lounge chair with a cold one and let someone else do it! Accordingly, after I showed girlfriends how to suck, I did very little auto-fellatio. Even so, I ran high hurdles and learned more stretching techniques that kept my inherently flexible self quite limber.
When I was a freshman in college, I took a yoga course for PE credit. The instructor was amazed how flexible I was, especially given that I had never taken yoga before. I, of course, did not tell him about my experience with auto-fellatio!
There was one super-fine girl in there who was a little sister at the fraternity where I was a pledge, so I always sat by her on the floor of the squash ball court where the yoga class met. Just oozing sexuality, Phoebe was a petite, freckled blonde hippie chick with a terrific compact body who'd wear tight, thin, worn out tee-shirts and way-too-big guy's gym shorts to class. She was just my type, and I really liked her a lot, but she was dating one of my frat brothers, and so was unavailable--or so I thought.
It was an 8:00 AM class, and it looked like she simply wore to yoga what she slept in. You know, roll out of bed, slip into sandals, and walk across the street to yoga just in the nick of time. Though she always looked disheveled, she nevertheless looked great--a natural beauty. At any rate, I could readily see her nippley B/C-cup boobs (I don't know exactly what size they were because she never, ever wore a bra, but they were absolutely perfect) through the threadbare tees. Even better, when she was sitting in the right position, I could easily look up the wide leg of those oversize shorts through her thin blonde muff at her poochy, panty-less pussy!
One day, Phoebe was my partner in a new, tandem position we were learning. She was sitting facing me in a lotus position, and I was sitting with my legs extended straight out in front of me, heels resting in the divots of her upper thighs, which placed my toes right in front of her boobs. Alternately, we were to both lean forward and down, then rear back with arched backbones to mimic some animal, I don't remember what kind now.
Well, when she was in the far forward position and I back, my bare toes squished into her excellent ta-tas while the soft hair on her head sensuously tickled my upper thighs and crotch. And when she arched back with me forward, I could see, between my ankles, nearly her entire pussy while. What do you think happened? Correct: Erection!
Since I had taken off my shirt and had on only a thin pair of nylon running shorts, there was no hiding my stiffie, especially the next time I arched back and she bent forward. We were instructed to hold the position for a minute or two, which put my boner right in her face. She noticed; she smiled.
Then, as instructed, I leaned forward and down again. This time, she jutted her chest out and gently swayed her upper body against the soles of my feet, and I could feel her nipples perk up as they rubbed across the pads of my toes. Though it had been a long time, something suddenly possessed me to suck my own dick. So, I tilted my head down over my hard cock, looked around to make sure no one else was looking, and placed my mouth on it, over my running shorts, of course. When I looked back up at her, Phoebe was smiling bigger than ever, and when I cast my gaze down at her pussy, I could see that it was getting moist. She was obviously enjoying this, which was exactly why I'd done it!
We did several more iterations of this position, and each time, a little further in, I'd place my mouth over my cock. When it was her turn to lean forward, I could feel her warm breath exhaling onto my moist manhood. And, each time I'd rare back and look at her pussy, it was wetter. That was the final position for that day, and as soon as the instructor dismissed class, I grabbed my shirt and bunched it up to hide my erection, made even more obvious by the saliva that darkened those bird-egg-blue shorts. I wanted to follow her out, but was too embarrassed to stand up until everyone had left the brightly-lit squash ball court.
With the coast clear, I walked on up the stairs and out the door, hoping to catch up with her. Just outside, as luck would have it, there Phoebe was, lighting up a cigarette, and offered me one. Though I really didn't smoke, I took one anyway, noting that her nipples were especially rigid in the cool morning air. Lighting my smoke, she let her hand linger on mine and said she was amazed at my flexibility. I asked if she was referring to the "auto-fellatio," a term she thought was very funny, and she unabashedly said yes, that it really turned her on big time. I told her that I'd really enjoyed her breasts caressing my feet, could not help noticing her moist vagina, and that she, likewise, turned me on. When she said she did not have another class until 10:30 AM and so had some time to kill (It was just after 9:00, and I, too, didn't have another class until 10:30), I took that as a full-steam-ahead, so I asked her to get high with me in my dorm, which was just across the soccer field.
Six bongs later, I was blowing a mouth-to-mouth shotgun into Phoebe's lungs, and in moments, without speaking a word, we shucked our clothes and began French-kissing, our hands roaming all over each others' naked bodies. Without even a smidgen of make-up and a bad case of bed-head hair, she was nevertheless one awesome-looking, sexy babe. I put on some Allman Brothers and then proceeded to kiss and lick and nibble every square millimeter of her lovely physique, so light in complexion, sprinkled with freckles.
She was stroking my cock ever so fine with her diminutive hands, bent forward to kiss and lick it all over, and was about to swallow him whole when Phoebe stopped, looked up, and said, "I just gotta see you suck yourself again. Nothing has ever turned me on so much!"
Like I was going to say no! Not counting my little show in yoga class, it had been a really long time since I'd done it (recall above reference to yard work), but I scooted to the very edge of the bed, pulled my legs up beside my hips like a bullfrog, bent forward, and gave myself a blow job.
Frankly, I was surprised that I could go all the way to the base of my 7-incher with only the slightest discomfort after such a long hiatus, but I guess the yoga class had loosened me up, not to mention the motivating effect of this hottie's request. She was already sitting Indian style on the floor in front of me, and from there, transfixed on the freak show I was providing, she played with her tits and pussy, which was oozing so much nectar that there was a wet spot below it on the throw rug. Staring with wide blue eyes at my genitalic genuflecting, she brought herself to a stirring orgasm.
Shortly, Phoebe joined in by licking and nibbling my balls while I continued to suck myself, and she eventually pursed her sucking lips and darting tongue to run them up and down the underside of my shaft in tandem with me. I'd let my cock pop out of my mouth, and it would rub on her wet chin while we French-kissed for a bit before tonguing the tip together and lick-sucking our way back down to the base. Finally, she took over full blow-job duty with audible slurping zeal while I relaxed to thoroughly enjoy the sight, sound, and sensation. It was obvious she loved to suck dick, and just as obvious, I loved the way she did it.
As she patiently sucked, licked, kissed, and nibbled my cock and balls, my gaze alternated between her lovely face and terrific tangerines. So firm they barely jiggled, centered in their smooth, quarter-sized areolas were stiff pink nipples no wider than the eraser on a standard no. 2 pencil, but projecting out 3/8 of an inch. That Phoebe went bra-less was no big deal—lots of girls did in the 70s—but the exceptional thing was that those nips were always, always rigid. It occurred to me at that moment that it was her nipples that gave me a sexual rush the first time I met her at a party at the frat house. She was wearing some faded, worn-thin bellbottoms and a hand-embroidered, semi-transparent gauze blouse. Despite its loose fit, those nail-hard nipples poked in plain view against the cotton.
Though I'd kissed and nibbled them a bit earlier, I realized I had not spent nearly enough time at her boob station, so I leaned forward to play with them some more. Damn they were firm! I'm sure that some guys might have even thought they were enhanced—these were the silicone implant days—but they were 100% real. Twisting her nipples made them even harder, gathering up more of the surrounding areola and pointing up half and inch. She licked my fingertips for lubrication, and I went back to "work" twiddling and squeezing as she blew me ever more vigorously.
I was getting close to cumming, but there was so much more to do, so I forced myself to break off the head job and exchanged places with her to eat pussy. This was the first really good look I got at it, and all I can say is, "Oh my God!" because of its unusualness. Though her twat was not shaved (that was unheard of in those days), it was very easy to see and access since she had very little pubic hair. In fact, Phoebe had so little body hair that she did not have to shave anywhere at all, which rendered her legs incredibly soft, the tiny soft blonde hairs making them feel like velvet. The little wisps of blonde hair under her arms did not bother me one bit; she was, after all, a thoroughly natural, hippy-chick beauty .
Anyway, Phoebe's pussy: She had very large labia majora that pooched out and rolled back in to reveal a narrow strip of pink flesh—what I'd seen back in yoga class. When I pulled them apart, out folded a theretofore hidden pair of medium-large labia minora ¾ of an inch wide and an inch long! I've never seen such prominent inner lips on a gal with outer lips like that; most women built that way have very slender inner pussy lips. Above, her meaty clit hood half-covered a nubbin' that turned out to be blueberry-size when I fully peeled back the hood. She was so fucking wet! Pulling her lips through mine, licking and sucking her clit, it was all so delicious. And she loved me going down on her at least as much as I did, vocalizing in response to every little lick, suck, and kiss I performed, cumming hard and loud several times over.
Then I fucked her every which way, which we both enjoyed immensely. She had a really tight pussy, and her inner lips would fold inside her vagina on penetration then reappear hugging my shaft, pulling some of her pussy wrong-side-out as I withdrew. To tell you the truth, her pussy was too tight, so I had to concentrate mightily to keep from cumming prematurely despite her sopping wetness. It really was not a problem, though, as we both actually preferred oral sex, so we'd only screw in any given position for a few minutes before getting back to good ol' oral, often with me sucking myself first before she got so turned on she could not hold back any longer and dived in. She liked to give oral every bit as much as receive, so we usually wound up in the trusty girl-on-top 69 position. Sometimes while she sucked me ever-so-fine in this position, I'd disengage my mouth from her vagina, hold my finger still against her clit, and just relax to watch her work herself against it and her absolutely perfect ass gyrate, flesh jiggling up and down, round and round.
But I could never wait long before having to lock lips back on her pretty, rock-hard clitoris and luscious large labia while massaging those velvety soft tits and their long, rigid nipples. To this day, though I prefer lots of variety, I'd have to say that the girl-on-top 69 is still my single favorite sexual position, if I had to settle on just one.
She could easily give a true deep throat and swallow every drop of semen, but she loved cum so much that, occasionally, before swallowing it, she'd swish it around in her mouth and savor it first. She'd crack me up with her comments, which sounded like something out of Wine Connoisseur magazine, "Big and quite ballsy; with a distinct floral bouquet; dominant woodiness on the initial palate; strong, slippery mouthfeel; and a fruity, dingleberry finish. Should age well. The perfect compliment to tube steak." Funny.
Our post-yoga class surreptitious soirees thenceforth became a fixed part of the Spring Quarter schedule. Yoga met on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, and we'd hook up like clockwork after class every Tuesday and Friday, literally running to my dorm room to make the most of every minute together. Some days, we'd even blow off the 10:30 class and have sex for three-plus hours until lunch. My nerdy roommate had back-to back classes during the morning hours, so no one was in my room during that time frame. That, plus the fact that my room was on the end of the hall by the fire escape, which we used to access my room, made it a cinch to rendezvous on the sly.
Having to sneak around was no doubt fun, but I did feel guilty about fooling around on her boyfriend—a great guy who readily shared his wicked weed—who was my fraternity brother, no less. He was a very hairy fellow with a full, grizzly beard, and I always wondered if that had something to do with her attraction for me, as I had a smooth, clean-shaven face and hardly any body hair. She and I never let on to anyone that we had something going, and no one had a clue that we were regularly fooling around.
There were plenty of times that all three of us would be at a Friday night frat party after she and I had massive sex together that very morning. Moreover, I really liked her tremendously--over and above the great sex--and she said she felt likewise. But she and he, both juniors, had dated since the beginning of college and were a standing item, and I, of course, was a lowly freshman. Who knows--maybe he could suck himself, too! At any rate, I only fucked a few girls other than Phoebe that entire Spring Quarter.
One of them was another girl in our yoga class who actually asked me out the very next class after Phoebe and I first hooked up. Babette was a pretty good-looking freshman sorority girl whose best features were long, gorgeous, thick brown hair and huge tits, so of course I said "yes." All of our dates were boring sorority functions, and though she was relatively conservative, she liked sex but had the attitude that it was part and parcel of a date, kind of an obligation, to ensure the guy would go out with her again.
So we fucked in her dorm room on our very first date. To say she was not spectacular in bed would be an understatement. She gave head, but poorly, as you could just tell she didn't really like to. As for receiving oral, she did so reluctantly, pulling me up to fuck her after only a few minutes. Babette had a giant pussy I could screw forever without cumming, though she easily climaxed pretty quickly, gazing up with a hurry-up-and-finish look. Only rarely did I spurt inside of her. I honestly don't' think she even knew there was any other way to fuck than missionary until she met me, but try as I might in other positions, that's the only way she could cum.
Her breasts had wide, faint pink areolas and nipples that never really perked up, but they were massive, cantaloupe-size, and just made for titty-fucking—also a first for her. Because her boobs were very sensitive, and it was a sure way to make me cum, titty-fucking was the one thing we could enjoy sexually at the same time. So our sex almost always ended with her lying face-up, pouring a generous helping of lotion in her canyon of cleavage, squeezing her huge tits tightly around my shaft, and me fucking them silly until I squirted.
Babette was the polar opposite of Phoebe, and she didn't mind one bit that I was boinking another girl in our yoga class. In fact, I used to tell her in detail about Babette's lame attempts at sex, and we got a big charge out of that. I know, nasty, but fun. Of course, Babette, like everyone else, had no clue about Phoebe and me. I really, really liked Phoebe and was her "other boyfriend," albeit the back door one, even though I probably spent as much or more time with her than he did.
I transferred to a different college my sophomore year, but would occasionally visit friends at my old school. When there, she and I would usually be able to hook up for an intense, if often brief, sex session that was, like before, predominantly oral. It was fantastic every single time, and in the whole time I knew her I only came IN her pussy a few times, and then it was only an accident due to her super-tight pussy! She was a card-carrying Sperm Swallower, and that was just fine with me.
Another thing that was a permanent fixture of our sexual soirees was my auto-fellatio, as that was the trigger that turned her on to the nth degree. The last time we were together was at the end of her senior year, and while we were getting dressed after torrid sex in the back of HIS Volvo 240D wagon in the park, she said she and he were getting married the following weekend, then moving to New York where he had a job with the UN. I never saw her again.
Too bad, too, as Phoebe was a girl I would have loved to have as a regular girlfriend.