Charlotte Thinks Out Loud

This is not really a story, more thoughts and remembrances.

Back in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds, they would cut out a hole in the floor and put in a cast iron grate that let the heat rise to the upstairs rooms. The grate also left through sound and if you were the type, you could peek down from the upstairs room to the downstairs room and see much of what was going on. When I was about eighteen, the summer before college, we moved into a house with heating grates. My bedroom was just above my mother's room and at night, I could hear her soft snoring as she slept.

I could hear other things too. My mother was a single mom, and she had the same good genes she passed on to me, which means she had soft skin and looked younger than she really was. She was not the nicest person, but she was beautiful, a flirt, and something of what I recognize now as a slut. Back then I didn't think that way. I just thought she had a lot of boyfriends. Many, many nights there were men in her bedroom, and yes, I would peek, peering through the cast iron grates, watching what went on that had the men, and at times, my mother, make such an array of passionate sounds.

Sex scared me, I had led a sheltered life in high school. And even when I first went to college, I stayed mostly to myself. But, when I was home. I would watch from above as the men, their hairy naked bodies, all larger than my five foot one mother, climbed on her and thrust into her like animals. Watching their cocks, which seemed so large to me, to into her tiny body seemed frightening. She would whimper when they entered her and then as they began to pound, always fast and hard, she would cry out. I didn't realize then that her cries were likely cries of pleasure. It seemed to me that she was being raped and it was exciting and scary, both, watching them.

As time went by, I came to realize that it was pleasure, not pain, that caused her moans and cries, and while I wasn't sure what was going on, I knew there were a few rare times, when something happened with her that caused her to almost writhe and cry out even louder. Those were, I came to understand later, orgasms. At the time, I only knew what she was doing was considered very naughty, not to be talked about, and very exciting. Watching and listening caused a new wetness between my legs and I found, if my fingers stroked myself there, as I saw men doing to my mother, I would reach my own moment of passion. It was hard, because I had to be quiet so they would not hear me as the orgasm washed over my young body.

The thing that fascinated me most though, was watching my mother perform oral sex.

I call it performing on purpose because I never thought she loved any of the men who shared her bed. And I could tell she was showing off, that what she was doing was not just about creating pleasure by letting a man's cock slide in and out between her lips, but that part of what brought the men such pleasure was watching her do it, watching their swollen cocks as it penetrated her mouth, as she liked, sucked and kissed, for both total pleasure. I watched and mentally paid attention to what men liked, what she did that always brought men to pleasure. Watching her, and their reactions as she lavished such love on their cocks, I came to see oral sex as the ultimate act of pleasure you could give a man.

So at twenty, after a couple of years of this, I knew a few things most girls my age (and remember, this was a fair number of years ago, not now when girls are having sex so early), didn't know. I knew most men would rather have a great blow job than other kinds of sex. I knew all about going slow, looking up into a man's eyes when you sucked him. I learned men REALLY wanted to cum in a woman's mouth. I knew ways to prolong a man's pleasure, and ways to make him come fast.

back then, at twenty even, oral sex was one of those things girls barely talked about, and only in whispers. It was talked about but rarely admitted to. It was supposed to be some deliciously naughty thing, a mystery that NO nice girl would ever do. I felt like I knew a secret.and when we talked about it late at night in the dorms, I had the image of my mother pleasuring men as I watched through the grates in my floor. They would all giggle at the thought when the subject came up, while I was wet with remembrance and anticipation of when I might actually give that deep a pleasure to a boy.

I was a late bloomer. Halfway through college, I finally started to grow some breasts, those marvelous things that get boy's attention. The first time I had sex at twenty, it was pretty crazy, but very frustrating. The boy practically raped me, he was so eager. coming just as I was starting to get really hot, and when he was done, he was done. He didn't want to do anything with me, and he did not want me to kiss his half hard cock, which I was desperate to do.

That was the story of college life. Yes, I got to give head, but it was always with the over zealous hormones of a college boy. I think I was face fucked a lot, and yes, guys loved it. But it wasn't anything like what I had seen, what I wanted, what I had been turned on by since I had been twelve. Getting married was not a lot different. I loved Alex and would have done anything for him, but he thought oral sex was nasty, and he had a love-hate relationship with it. It was terribly frustrating. I just KNEW I had some special talent to give, a secret knowledge that could bring crazy good pleasure to a man, and that's what I wanted desperately to do.

The beginning of the end of my marriage was also finally, the validation of what I thought I had to give, and my own pleasure in giving it. My husband, who was vanilla sex all the way, became obsessed with the idea of my having sex with another man, and him watching. I have to tell you, I resisted like crazy. It seemed exciting, I admitted it. But I also didn't think he could handle it, the jealousy, I mean. But Alex kept after me and kept after me and finally I gave in.

He brought home a friend he worked with. Tall, young and handsome and very polite. And, as I found out once we were naked, he had a beautiful cock. Straight, smooth, clean, with veins that bulged just a little. And best of all, he was slow. The first time was simple sex, with him on top and even though he came slightly before me, he stayed pumping his turgid cock slowly in and out of me. Even half hard it was bigger than Alex's cock and when I came, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. He pulled out and I shifted. I just HAD to try and give him head.

He seemed to know that this was not just something to do, but something I wanted to do, and he let me. Oh it was so delicious. I can still remember and relive it today almost like it was a slow motion movie. I can remember my being on my knees and lightly touching every it of him, letting my fingernails run over his balls, my finger tips caress him, my lips kissing his shaft up and down. I remember licking his head, round and round. I kept looking up at him, and I can't tell you, it was such a turn on watching his pleasure. My husband was to one side, mesmerized.

At last, after kissing his shaft, I began to take it in my mouth. He lasted no time at all, I hardly had the head in when I felt him tense up. Part of me was the eighteen year old girl peeking through the grate, excited at what I was seeing, now close up, but also totally aware of what was happening as he arched his back and his cum shot into my mouth. I practically came myself. It was so affirming and so hot, like living in my own porn movie that I had seen played over and over in my head again and again all the way through college.

But then it happened. My ex went crazy. There was no second sharing, with his coworker or anyone else. His jealousy was awful, made worse by the fact that he had caused it himself. Our marriage hardly lasted a year.

There were other guys. I got to give head to others, but I was surprise, now that I was dating men in their forties, how selfish they all were as lovers, and how more often my loving gift turned into a quick face fuck and then it was done.

Then there was Paul. Delicious, perfect Paul. The first time we made love, I don't think he even came, He kissed me, touched me, caressed me and fucked me in the wildest, longest array of multiple orgasms I had ever experienced. In fact, before that night, I never knew that multiple orgasms were real and not some kind of porn fiction. When he was done with me. I was a rag doll, limp from exhausted pleasure. We fell asleep together.

But the next morning, when I woke up, I was recharged. And when I looked down, I saw his cock, small yet still thick, lying there. I moved to the bottom of the bed, and began to kiss it. I ran my fingernails down his thighs. I took his small limp cock in my mouth.

And I felt it grow there as I had it in my mouth. IT was growing hard because of MY pleasure giving. Such a total turn on! Soon it was hard and straight between my lips. Then as I reached for his balls, I realized something else. It was shaved.

I pulled off to look at it in the morning light. I had never seen a shaved one before. 40 years old and never seen one for real! I was embarrassed, but it was so perfect, all velvety smooth, yet hard as a rock. I just stared at it. "Kiss it." he told me, and like some kind of zombie, I bent back down and kissed it. "Kiss up and down the shaft." he said and I did. His hips were moving just a little now with each kiss. I would look up from time to time and he would be looking at me, with a small smile of pleasure on his lips and in his eyes.

Oh the time I spent with his cock that morning! He told me just what to do, at times directing me to take him deep, at times just bobbing slowly on his head, at times licking. I saw myself as my mother, finally pleasuring a man who knew how to enjoy what I had to give. I found I loved his telling me what to do, how he liked it. I didn't have to guess. I knew I was pleasuring him just as he wanted it. I felt like I was his, totally his.

Finally he said with a husky voice "I'm going to come.". I didn't slow down. At that point, I just had to have, HAD to have his cum my mouth. And he did come.

Since then,he has shot pictures of me loving his cock and they are still the sexiest pictures I have ever seen. Paul's let me have other men (He is not jealous at all, or handles it very well.) I love him, be he has let me tasted and touch and be taken by other men. I still totally get turned on by giving head. Totally and probably irrationally. But it is what it is. And it all began when I was just eighteen, and even now, when I have Paul's cock, or one of the occasional other men he shares me with between my lips, I have the same unbridled excitement I had long ago.

Charlotte