Adventures Unfinished Ch. 02y

Generally, I was honest with myself about my insanely preternatural ways, but there was this little voice inside me telling me not to be too open about my peculiarities. I decided they weren't ready for a lot. Not yet, at least.

"Pam, maybe you can relate to this, but I found out years ago that I really enjoy giving blowjobs," I said.

They both looked at me like I might have been kidding. When they saw that I wasn't, there was shock and awe in their expressions. They began to ask many questions at once. I told them to slow down and that I'd answer them, to some degree at least.

"This is a topic I'd like to know more about," said Pam matter-of-factly.

Dinah looked at her in surprise briefly. Then she admitted that she'd never had the confidence to really get into it. And then Pam again said that oral sex objectively excited her, but she'd never felt good about semen and gagging on it.

My first reaction was an internal "How sad" but I simply told them that learning more about it can and probably should be fun.

"You know the old adage: Practice makes perfect, right?" I said. "You give enough blowjobs and you'll get comfortable with semen. I guarantee it. You may even learn to like it. Plus, there's the wow factor."

"What's the wow factor?" they both asked simultaneously.

"Just like you, a lot of women are apprehensive about giving blowjobs. It's for any number of reasons: They don't know what they're doing and feel uncomfortable asking the guy they're with for assistance. They don't like it when a guy controls the motion of his cock in their mouths. They don't like semen. The list goes on.

"But, if you feel comfortable with the guy and you show that you're interested, guys love it. They're like, 'Wow! She's enjoying this. Awesome.' I can almost guarantee that you'll have them coming back for more."

"You've given that many?" Pam said.

"I'm a little uncomfortable sharing too many details of my past, but I'll admit: Yes, I've given lots of blowjobs. And, for me, the bottom line is that I love sucking cocks," I said, my candor surprising even me. I certainly wasn't going to tell them that I'd lost count of how many cocks I'd sucked. Nevertheless, I was on a roll. "At some point I realized that I started to have an orgasm when the guy I was with had his."

They looked at me in disbelief. I continued.

"And Pam, while drinking a glass of cum can be a challenge sometimes for the unfamiliar, other times it can go down pretty easily. Plus, it's such a sexy thing, isn't it?" I briefly looked away at Dinah who was listening to my every word, then I turned back to Pam. "The thing is, if or when you begin to love semen you'll love swallowing it. I guarantee it. Even if it takes some time.

"You see, once you're already basically 'infused' with semen (from doing all of that sucking to have produced a glass of the stuff), even if guys have good aim, it's still everywhere: in your mouth and throat and maybe even up your nose... Plus you probably have quite a bit more on your lips, chin and the rest of your face too."

I paused to let this sink in.

"So, drinking it is just more of the same -- from a practical point, that is. You can still get excited and even have climaxes by the drinking itself. I can, at least. Once you're bathed in it, swallowing is easy and sexy."

Both of them were a bit nonplussed. You can't make a statement like that about drinking a glass of cum without having done it. And, if you've done it then you've also had enough guys in one place at one time to produce a glass of cum. This was the stuff of porn -- not the stuff of real people, anyone they knew. Or so they had thought.

"Wow," each said at about the same time. "O - M - G! You've done it? More than once? Wow."

Whether I had gone up or down in their estimation was not immediately clear. I was back to being either a sexually liberated woman or a slut. The jury was still out.

There were so many things I wanted to discuss with Dinah and Pam. I felt like we'd just scratched the surface, but then Dinah and Pam reminded me that they had to make a trip to visit Dinah's mom for a short while down in SeaTac. They said they'd be back a bit later. Before they took off, though, I wanted to stay on this topic.

I added, "Just so I'm clear, as I recall, Dinah, you asked about Bruce's girlfriend and if she spit his semen out. And you said you've given a few blowjobs, but you didn't have confidence in what you were doing. And you also said that no one has ever gone down on you?"

Dinah nodded.

"You have a good memory. I can only imagine what that must feel like."

"You also said something that requires more conversation: You asked about why the guy wouldn't rather enjoy the women he was with rather than watch porn at the same time."

They both said that they couldn't figure that out. I replied that it was a topic we should return to.

"And, Pam, you even remember the three blowjobs you gave and each ended up being a negative experience. But you said you enjoyed the feel of a cock in your mouth. That's a good sign, especially if you ever want to have access to a quantity of— What did you say? 'I love the way a big bunch of semen looks, tasty and creamy.' That's really hot. Now you just need to get more experience giving those blowjobs."

They agreed that they needed more experience, but didn't know how to get it. I told them that I'd try to help them to figure it out.

And with that they took off.

As the crow flies my apartment was only seven or eight miles away from Barry's house. But when the crow has to take one of the floating bridges to the I-Five through Seattle traffic like the rest of us, it could take forty or forty-five minutes to drive to Barry's from home. So I doubted Pam and Dinah were going to make it back in time for pizza. But who knew? Maybe they would.

I thought about what the three of us had discussed and considered the whole love-vs-sex issue. For me this had become a sex-only issue. I always wondered when I was going to give up my wanton ways and possibly amoral desires and want to become half of a couple. Part of my brain hoped I would go in that direction soon. I also remembered Pam's polite encouragement to the guys to reciprocate if a girl goes down on them, they should do likewise.

Sitting there by myself thinking, I started to feel a little cold even with the robe so I began to get dressed. I had put on my bra and panties when I realized I had left a sweater downstairs and went to retrieve it. As I was walking down the plushly carpeted stairs I heard the guys discussing the porn they'd been watching and how they stoked their previously stated fantasies: What the girl did. How much she looked like she was enjoying it. How each of them would love to have sex with her. What each would like to do to her.

So I thought to myself: That was it! I could simply no longer abide this dancing around the subject of sex.

I made sure my robe was snuggly covering my lingerie clad body and walked into the den.

My entrance brought a sudden silence to the room.

"OK, pervs," I said, "what's up with you guys? Two attractive, sexy, brilliant and funny women were sitting here with you, almost naked. You like them, respect them and joke with them. You watch porn together. Or at least, they tolerate you watching it. Today you even opened up about your fantasies. And, although I sometimes find it hard to believe, they like you. But you seem to treat each of the girls like one of the guys." I looked at them, a look of distain on my face. "Well, you know something? They're not."

They looked at me with the same are-you-crazy look that the girls had given me. I had wanted to bring up the subject with all of them including Dinah and Pam but this would work too. I wanted to know if they had any desires for the girls or if they simply had their heads up their butts.

After several uncomfortable moments, Bruce, realizing that I was attempting to open a door the group had just assumed was forever closed, said, "You mean, Dinah and Pam would have sex with us?"

Not exactly the way I'd have put it, but at least he was in the ballpark.

I told them that I was not speaking for the girls and that they hadn't said anything about having sex with them. I simply reminded them of what I'd said. It was up to them to discuss it with them if they were interested.

"And, Bruce, to tell you what I think, Debbie, the one with whom you had oral sex, I'll bet she enjoyed both giving and receiving."

That made him smile, but he said that he doubted it. I explained that simply showing your partner that you're eager to satisfy her and that you want her to take pleasure in what you're doing is key. Most people, men and women, can deal with a lack of experience if you make it known that you want to please them.

Then the inevitable question arose. This time it was Hal, the guy who'd expressed his desire for a woman to lick up his cum. And, honestly, this was a fairly common desire in my circle. Of course my circle was loaded with guys who loved unloading into my mouth and watching me play with their cum. Hence, they were not necessarily representative of all guys. (Many guys, perhaps... at least the porn afficionados.)

Bruce began to explain that he'd really like to learn more about how to please a woman and I responded that I thought it was a commendable goal. Thus began a limited theoretical explanation of how to reach that goal.

In no time the guys and I were laser focused on this topic. Bruce started in with some more detailed questions about a woman's intimate parts. I was fairly successful at describing the lay of the land, highlighting the mistakes many men make in navigating this disappointingly misunderstood and too often poorly or completely unexplored territory.

It got to a point where a part of me considered taking off my panties and doing a show and tell with my pudendum (a word so rarely used and one that doesn't get the respect it deserves), but the discussion went on without me as the boys were bragging about what they did know about women's bodies. Instead of faulting them on their immature braggadocio -- their limited knowledge vacillating between textbook accuracy and real-world naiveté -- I sat back and found myself enjoying their sometimes brilliant and other times ignorant but endearing statements.

As the topic began to veer toward what they like to look at, we were all a bit shocked back into the world of other things -- i.e., the real world -- in response to the doorbell.

3. Bulk

Barry went to answer the door as the room became silent, trying to learn who was there. It was too soon for Pam and Dinah to have returned. Barry thought they had a key anyway.

The natural instinct to be quiet when attempting to hear a distant conversation turned out to be unnecessary, however. Although we couldn't hear Barry well, the doorbell ringer's voice was like that of a bass on the stage of La Scala. Pam and Dinah could probably have heard him down in SeaTac.

As they approached, we could hear Barry explaining that all of the guys were surrounding a beautiful half-naked woman. (That would be me, I thought to myself. As much as my inner, self-loathing voice never believes it, it's still nice when someone uses "beautiful" to describe me when he's not trying to have sex with me.) And I was wearing a big, fluffy robe covering almost all of me. Not exactly an ensemble for seduction.

The new voice said, "You and your nerdy buddies? Surely, you can't be serious."

To which Barry said, "'I am serious and don't call me Shirley.'"

One of the guys, Clark maybe, simply said, Airplane!, which received a round of derogatory interjections that included "Duh!" and "Of course!"

And then Barry and the new arrival walked into the room.

"Hey, Barry, old buddy," said the newcomer in a smarmy tone.

The faces in the room were a mixed bag, some glad to see the new guy, others not so much.

Bruce whispered to me enigmatically saying, "This'll be interesting."

I was about to ask him what he meant when Barry's new guest entered. He was a very large guy, about my age. No, he wasn't just large. He was huge. I figured he was over 300 pounds, maybe my height or a tad taller. As I considered his dimensions, I thought that he was definitely more than 300 hundred pounds, perhaps 350 or even more. He was wearing a baseball cap that read "Bulk Up!"

He'd obviously taken it as his credo.

Barry introduced him to me as Billy "or simply Bulk."

The shock of seeing this huge person -- for whom the word presence almost took on a new meaning -- was followed by the shock of what he said to me in my big, fluffy robe-covered body.

"Jesus! Look at the tits on you. That's not just a rack. That's a whole fuckin' storage unit!" Billy exclaimed. After leering at me, slowly up and down, he added, "Jeez! How do you stand upright?"

The sudden silence was emphasized by Billy's statement still echoing around the room. And it was accompanied by almost visual discomfort on their faces.

My first reaction was one of shock. It was followed by a feeling of wanting to sock the guy. In the end though I was so nonplussed by his outrageousness I had to laugh.

Internally, I went through my litany of You're-so-fat-that jokes ("We could end world hunger if you went on a diet." "You're not fat, you're just a few feet too short." "For you, what's the difference between a bar and a MacDonald's? Bars stop serving people when they've had too much."). But what came out was a genteel, "Nice to meet you, Billy."

I felt like following it up with, "What did you have for breakfast, Billy? Oregon?" but then I realized that I knew him from somewhere.

"So, Patrice," Billy -- or Bulk -- said with a sardonic smile, "you drinking enough fluids these days?"

Then it dawned on me whence I knew him. Too late I realized that I should have taken him aside before he said another word. The cat was enigmatically climbing out of the bag.

It was at a little sex party that Mace and I had gone to near the end of Mace's time in Seattle. Believe it or not, that extremely overweight fellow won an ejaculation contest.

Not for the first time that night and probably not the last, Maya looked at me aghast with just a dash of sexual excitement. I just shook my head and shrugged. Then she asked tentatively about the guy. But without giving me a chance to say anything she followed up with a volley of questions about the party, who was there, what it was like and especially what an ejaculation contest was. I tried to deflect the questions, but it was no use. I'd been dodging so many of her questions that I could again see her polite temperance for my loquaciousness about to hit a breaking point.

"Breathe, Maya, please," I told her.

And I shared just a bit about this rather unconventional party. Well, maybe more than just a bit.

From the beginning it was clear to both of us that my relationship with surprise benefactor Mace was never going to be a forever one. I was fortunate to know and truly to care about the man. He was a good friend and a good person. He deserved to enjoy his life and all that entailed, including his sex life. All the time I was helping him with his daily medication (Boy, even though it was for a physician prescribed medication, that sounds much better than simply saying "sucking his cock every day"! Or "giving him a daily blowjob, sometimes more than one". Of course, what's a few hundred additional blowjobs for someone with my track record!), we each had occasional dates with other people. Mace never exhibited any sort of possessiveness. In fact, he wanted me to go out and, if I wanted to indulge my rather odd sexual proclivities, he was supportive, even encouraging.

He told me that some of the guys with whom he played rugby had invited him to come to one of their couples parties. They were not orgies really, nor were they anything like some of Hollywood's beautified sexual indulgences: extravagant luxury houses where high class escorts, barely wearing outré costumes, wander about in four-inch heels providing requested favors for all.

No. These parties were eight or nine guys and their girlfriends -- and in two cases, their wives -- getting together to liven up their sex lives. Given the natural competitiveness that many men have as well as the whole visual aspect of the male anatomy, it was mostly focused on the guys and their cocks: how they worked, what they could do, and of course how big they were. It gave the guys and their girlfriends the opportunity to talk about -- and sometimes to see -- what other guys were up to. All very laid back with positive-energy laughter, no judgement, and lots of X-rated activities, often friendly competition. It was to have fun with dicks and games. Sort of like "Fun with Dick and Jane" but for adults.

So, Bulk had been at one of these parties that I'd attended -- accompanied by a normal looking woman who was quite nice and very funny -- and he surprised everyone with his rocket cock.

Maya was rapt, listening to my story. I was still tired, becoming more so with each moment, but remembering all these experiences was keeping me excited -- if not making me even hornier. I knew I was in fact going to be up all night.

"You actually knew this huge guy? And he had a 'rocket cock'?" Maya asked me. I nodded. She nodded back and then gave me that now all too familiar look of frustration. "I can understand a huge guy with a nickname like Bulk. But what the hell is a 'rocket cock'?"

I told her again that at these parties they often had contests, fun things, mostly sex play stuff.

So naturally, she again asked about Bulk and I told her about the contest in which he was a clear winner.

It was a cum shot distance contest. Any guy who wanted to compete was required to ejaculate at one end of this dining table that seated eight, aiming towards the distant end. When he was through, whichever one of his shots that was the furthest from the shooter's end of the table was the winner.

Maya asked if the guys masturbated or if their girlfriends made them come. It was a valid question. I told her that as I recalled all the girls got their guys going by sucking their cocks, but each guy knew he would have better control of his ejaculation's trajectory by going solo for his climax.

With all the sex talk -- and the fact that most of the guys probably refrained from coming for a couple of days before the parties -- all the guys shot good amounts of semen. Each guy would shoot and then the game master would measure from the end of the table to the furthest globule. Once it was notated on a whiteboard, scoring being a big part of the fun, the table would be cleared and cleaned for the next contestant.

Now all these guys were buddies. They knew of Mace's performance issues and his unique pharmaceutical regimen. They also knew of my peculiar tastes. And in fact, I'd found enjoyment with each of their cocks and some of their cum at one time or another. So, after each guy ejaculated his girlfriend was offered the load sitting on the table. Six of the girlfriends/wives politely declined the offered cum. With no other takers (the other women all having more conventional sexual interests), I got to suck up six loads off the table.

It was fun to make a sexy display of the act of licking it up. During that period of time, it wasn't often that I had the opportunity to taste a lot of cum. Of course, I enjoyed my usual morning load from Mace, but it also often made me horny for the rest of the morning. Although some of these guys shot globs of the stuff all over the tabletop, at least three or four of them left loads that wound up in just two or three locations.

That day I was wearing a scoop necked cotton tee and a bra with lace on the top of the cups. When I leaned over the table to lick at those globules I put a good deal of my bust on display. This was deliberate on my part. I felt that providing visual stimulus would offer the guys an eyeful, which might stimulate them to perform better -- and to offer me more of their cum as the party went on.