Grand Prix

Everything in these memoirs happened, although I will admit real life was often slightly less... um, pornographic. They develop slowly, though, so if you're looking for something designed to get you off in three minutes you've come to the wrong place.

Writing about one's own life is in itself a form of masturbation, but masturbation is fun. Writing these dirty stories brought back many things and even people I had forgotten.

Their names and the places have been changed, because in cyberspace you never know who's looking over your shoulder.

I hope you have as much fun reading these stories as I had writing them.

-- Felix

If you spend much time watching heterosexual pornography you will notice that "sex" begins at the point where a woman, often fully dressed, drops to her knees and frees the man's cock, which she immediately puts in her mouth.

Depending on the length of the video, the woman now spends anywhere from two to ten minutes licking and sucking, maintaining eye contact with the man and making sure to push her lips right up to the base of the cock a few times and then pulling all the way back, so we're sure his freakishly huge schlong has been down her throat. Gagging and drooling is presented as part of the fun.

After moving on to other activities, the couple often finishes with the woman again on her knees with her mouth open, no matter where that thing has been.

In my own extensive research--for science--I've found that, after the novelty of a new man and a new cock wears off, very few women really enjoy playing with a man's equipment except to get it hard enough to use.

Almost all women will take you in their mouth and play a bit, and some obviously enjoy the taste and feel of a cock in their mouth. But in my opinion, almost none of them wants a mouthful of cum, even if she really likes you.

I can't blame them. "Don't come in my mouth" is often the only thing a new partner says during the entire act of sex.

And deep-throating? It's exactly like sword-swallowing, a skill so rare you can make a living doing it at fairs and magic shows. All a woman (or a man) has to do is overcome the body's reflexive urge to expel anything that might block its air supply.

And yet.

Once in a while I have run into a woman who wants you to come in her mouth--who gets off on making you groan while she swallows. And I have known one who trained herself, for whatever reason, to deep-throat.

Like a lot of people, I look back over the years and think about which lover was the first to do--or allow me to do--this or that thing that was considered "dirty." And if the list is long, I think, "Who was the best?"

Here are some fellatrixes I will never forget.

Arlene

Arlene was basically a summer romance, which is just an unexpected affair like any other, but with the wonderful addition of a predetermined ending.

It was the era of "Animal House" and "Wet Hot American Summer," which is appropriate because I had a summer job as a camp counsellor in New England, thanks to some friends at college.

The camp had an art class, and some crafts, but basically it was a six-week sports camp--no girls--and the whole thing, to me, was a foreign country.

I won't name the camp because it would be recognized by thousands of former campers. For a century, the sons of rather wealthy people on the East Coast have been spending their summers at that camp or one very like it, playing baseball and learning to paddle their own canoes.

Nearby, on the same lake but approachable only with permission, was a girls' camp. And there, the counselors were college women. And they were sick to death of basket-weaving and folk songs.

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On one of my first afternoons off, a rendezvous was arranged by someone who had been there before, and a carload of boys' counselors met up with a carload of girls' counselors at a pretty spot in the countryside. We were far from either camp: Our meeting would have been frowned upon.

A few of the people there knew each other well. Introductions were performed and we chatted as a group.

Toward the end of the afternoon, the subject of some upcoming local entertainment--a movie or a concert--was raised. "Dates" were arranged, and everyone quickly paired off except me and one of the girls. Her name was Arlene.

We hadn't really talked, but I had noticed her. She was bright. Her curly dark hair was cut fairly short, and she was tall for a girl, athletic, with long legs.

Now that we were in an awkward social position, I focused on her and realized she had a pretty face. She was also "built," as I would have said. She didn't dress to emphasize it; you had to pay attention.

"Everyone has a date but me," she said to no one in particular, like I wasn't sitting right there. To be fair, in those days girls didn't ask boys out. It wasn't done.

I actually said, "Well, what's wrong with me?"

You young men should take note: Don't ask questions that can be answered with punch lines. I immediately regretted what I had said, but fortunately she was a nice person and resisted the chance to knock one out of the park. We made a date.

I didn't know then that her grandfather owned both camps.

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Fast forward through several things I do not remember to a moment at the end of our date, when she and I were parked in my ancient Chevy, well-hidden in the woods. The two of us were making out enthusiastically on the huge front seat, as we had both known we were going to.

I upped the ante. I don't remember what I touched, probably her breast, but it was enough for her to protest, shrugging away from me and saying, "No," in a gentle voice.

That was a perfectly normal thing to do. Even though we each expected the other to have had had some experience, we barely knew each other. On most first dates, you take it slow, in case your new sweetie turns out to be nuts, or doesn't believe in bathing.

Also, although she didn't mention it, she couldn't be sure that I wouldn't go back to camp and blab about everything we did (like I'm doing now). As I said, everyone knew who she was, except me.

But I was impatient with this early resistance. I knew we had only a few weeks to enjoy this golden opportunity for unsupervised lechery, and I didn't want to play the "Please, how about letting me just touch this?" game anymore.

So I told her exactly what I was thinking. I also told her that I liked her very much, which was true. She probably could tell. And I told her I understood if she didn't want to go "all the way"--I admit I said it--on our first date. I told her I would always stop when she said "stop." And I would never blab.

But other than that, I begged her to behave as if we already had been through all the preliminaries, because I wanted to get busy doing naughty things to each other.

To my surprise she felt very much as I did. She explained why she couldn't just get crazy. She had made a promise, she said, not to "do it" until she was married. She didn't say whom she had promised, and I never asked. It could have been her grandpa, her mother, or maybe a fiancée.

"Then we won't," I said. I promised again, at great length, that she would always be in charge, and she acquiesced. Boy, did she acquiesce.

The making-out immediately changed. It was full of promise and a fair amount of laughter. We kissed deeply and began groping each other with abandon.

I quickly freed her breasts, which were beyond what I expected--high and full, with responsive nipples. True to her word, she didn't resist. In fact she helped me as I opened her blouse and undid her bra. Clearly, she was horny, and made loud happy noises as I sucked on her nipples and played with her.

Now that I could do almost whatever I wanted to, I took my time.

She told me what she liked, and even lifted her hips and helped me take her pants off. She leaned back and opened her legs for my hands, showing me what turned her on. She even allowed me to reach behind her and play with her asshole, which turned me on, although many girls considered it "icky" in those days.

She wouldn't let me go down on her, though, and she made no move to undress me, although she was caressing my crotch. We went on and on, with her undressed and me dressed. I had a major league hard-on, and it was uncomfortable, but she seemed happy, so I was happy. Frankly, I was amazed that we had advanced so quickly to a level of sex-play that usually took weeks or months with a new partner.

After a few minutes more, she gently moved my hands away and started putting her clothes back in order.

"Well, crap," I thought. "That's that." But I had to admit she had gone a long way in a short time, and I looked forward to our next date.

Little did I know.

Once she was buttoned up and once again wearing pants, she pushed me back against my seat without saying a word. She grabbed my belt and undid it with one hand, then unbuttoned my jeans in one sharp tug. Those old Levis were great that way.

She pulled my shirttails and undershirt up and out of my pants, then pulled my pants and underpants down to my knees. I began to get the idea that she had done it before.

"Holy shit," I said.

"Can you move this seat back?" she asked.

In answer, I scooted the bench back as far as it would go. Fully dressed, she knelt next to me on the seat and began to toy with my cock, cradling my balls with the other hand.

"Wow," I thought. "She has done this before."

I was quickly hard again. I was wondering, if there was to be no fucking, if she would let me come in her hand. Then she leaned forward and took me in her mouth.

She was very good at it. I realized that her "promise" did not prevent her, in her own mind, from making men happy. She was happy, too. She was making humming sounds.

"You taste good," was the last thing she said.

I was still trying to come up with a snappy response when she pushed me sideways on the plastic-covered seat until I was against the driver door. Then she made room for her body on the rest of the seat, bending her hips and knees and resting her head in my lap.

I stroked her hair and cheek gently as she did wonderful things with her lips and tongue, then I reached down and cupped her ass through her jeans. She made approving noises, so I slid my hand down her back and under her waistband to cup her bare cheeks. Her belt was too tight, though. It was rough on my wrist and I suspected it wasn't really comfortable for her, either.

To my surprise, she stopped what she was doing and undid the belt, giving me just enough room to play with her butt.

Looking back, I realize what she was doing with the clothing thing. Making sure that one of us was fully dressed at all times helped her control the situation. At the time, I thought it was just odd, but I didn't care. Once again, I gently played with her asshole, which made me even harder than I already was. I then pushed my hand down through her crack and under her to toy again with her pussy. All was right with the world.

After a minute or two, she raised her mouth away from me and laid her head on my thigh, facing my cock. With one hand she started lazily stroking me with a loose wrist--not stiffly, like a beginner. I remember being thankful that someone had apparently taught her to do it. It was fun just to watch.

Usually when you are being manipulated by a partner it feels a little awkward. Things aren't being bent quite as they would be if you were doing it, and the wrong fingers are in the wrong places. But Arlene was doing it exactly as I would have ... and the results were the same.

After no more than eight or ten seconds of that, I warned her, "I'm going to come!"

I hoped she wouldn't be grossed out when I came all over her hand, among other things, because I wasn't going to stop and look for my hankie.

She reacted as if scalded--not to get out of the way, but to jam her mouth back onto my cock like a dog with a bone. I was astounded. She started expertly jacking me with her fingers again, and I exploded, groaning and saying appropriate things like, "Oh my god!"

She stayed on me, sucking hard and milking me--and swallowing it all.

At that time in my life, a few women had dutifully taken me into their mouths, but this was the first time I remembered it in detail.

Not only had she jacked me off like a pro; not only was she the first to let me come in her mouth; she had jumped at it, making me come that much harder. And she had swallowed my load like it was dessert.

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She did it again, too, many times over the course of two summers. (We both returned the following year. I came back simply because of her.) At first we just looked for good places to park the car, then tried to find more comfortable places to hide, especially in the second year.

And although she kept her promise to whomever it was--we never had standard "intercourse"--things gradually became more interesting.

The following vignettes from our two summers are sharp in my memory, but I don't remember the order in which they happened. They're just scattered memories from two very fine summers in the age of Aquarius.

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Sharing is Caring: One night early in the first summer, probably the third or fourth time Arlene had finished me in her wonderful mouth, I began to feel a little bad that she had to do this all the time, when there was really nothing in it for her (in my opinion).

I was well aware that most girls thought it was icky, and I tended to agree with them.

"You know," I told her, "you don't have to swallow every time." I told her I felt that I was being selfish.

"Tommy," she said, "I wouldn't do it if I didn't like it."

If she was telling me the truth, and I think she was, I had just learned two important things about Arlene. She actually enjoyed sucking me off, or at least didn't mind it, and she didn't feel obligated to do it.

Did I kick back and just enjoy the situation? No. Following my custom of a lifetime, I had to keep talking about it. I wanted to know if she really enjoyed it, because I personally wasn't sure how I would like a sudden mouthful of cum, etcetera.

I don't know if that was what gave her the idea, but soon after that conversation she looked up at me from her position in my lap one night and said, "Tommy, this time when you come I'd like to share it with you. I'll save some in my mouth and kiss you and give it back to you. OK?"

"All right," I said. I didn't particularly want to, but it seemed fair. In porn, this swapping cum sounds hot, but my reluctance was based on experience. I had tasted it on several occasions, always hoping it would be fun, but I was always disappointed.

I know that some people actually enjoy swallowing cum, but I'm pretty sure it's easier when they are themselves totally turned on. And that probably means they have not just finished ejaculating.

(My tolerance for odd smells and tastes drops away almost instantly after I have come. At the height of arousal I am perfectly willing to do things like putting my tongue up an asshole or licking piss from a pussy, but I know I'm not likely to enjoy either of those things when I'm not turned on.)

I don't remember exactly how I felt as Arlene did her usual wonderful thing that night. I must have been a little excited even though I was hesitant, because we were being extra perverted.

But I remember the kiss. I remember Arlene bringing her face up to mine. I don't remember it as icky, and I don't remember the taste or texture bothering me. I just remember the fact of the kiss. The transfer. The honesty and the mutual significance of it. At that moment, I felt very tender toward her. And I still do.

That truly felt like making love.

I think that moment was when I learned to ignore the downside of cum in my mouth. Years later, after I was married, my wife and I swapped cum fairly often, and I think it made her more inclined let me come in her mouth, sharing or no sharing. It also made me more inclined to go down on her and try to get her off again after I had already come.

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Speed Racer: At some point in the first summer, I remember bringing Arlene back to her camp from a night out. We made out in the car for a minute or two and she unzipped me and began slurping around my cockhead, but as soon as I was inside her mouth, I blew.

I mean, no bobbing, no jacking. It probably took less than five seconds.

I thought she'd be pissed off, but she snorted with her mouth still on my cock, then swallowed and said, "Must be some kind of a record."

"I've been thinking about it all day," I said.

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Turnabout is Fair Play: Even during our first summer, we began to look for something a bit more comfortable than the front seat of a car. We tried spreading a blanket one moonlit night in a grassy field behind a hedge, but the ground was lumpy and hard, and mosquitos were on patrol.

So we went indoors, sneaking into one of my camp's outbuildings. The floor was hard, true, but there were no mosquitos, and it was warm.

It was there that I finally convinced her to take off her clothes at the same time as me. I wanted both of us to be getting stimulation at the same time, and she must have felt the same. I moved into a 69 position, and while my cock was warmly ensconced in her mouth, I began nuzzling her prominent mount of Venus.

"Don't go inside," she said. But by that time I had figured out that her reluctance had nothing to do with her Promise. She actually thought I would find her pussy icky in some way. Her boyfriend back home must have been a selfish putz.

I said, "You mean like this?" and I pushed my tongue hard into her and started lapping like a hungry dog. I don't know if it was really anything new for her, but it certainly changed our lovemaking. People don't really need to fuck to have a nice time.

After that we spent much of our time face to face with each other's genitals.

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A Real Bed: The very best night together came toward the end of our second summer, when we managed to get a simultaneous night off.

I don't remember how we managed it. Most nights, no matter what I was doing, I had to return to camp at a reasonable time because I had a cabin full of young boys. There were always counselors on patrol, but these kids were sharp, and if they were left alone long enough, they were perfectly capable of getting drunk and setting fire to something.

But on this occasion we somehow managed to travel together to a town not far from the lake, where Arlene had a friend who not only lived in a regular house, and had a regular bed, but wasn't there.

We spent hours just rolling in the luxury of being able to explore each other's bodies. I sucked her toes and licked her asshole. She took my balls into her mouth one at a time, and she licked my asshole. I am quite sure I came in Arlene's willing mouth at least four times that night. All my facial muscles and my neck got sore and stiff from eating her in every way I could think of, and I'll bet she was a little stiff and sore, too.

One memorable moment came when I realized that it wasn't really dark. We could see each other quite well in the light from the window next to the bed.

The light was coming from a ceiling lamp upstairs in the house next door, and when I rolled off Arlene at one point and looked up, a guy about my own age was sitting at that window and watching us. We might as well have been on stage.

I started to say something to Arlene, but figured she might not think it was funny. I thought about pulling the shade, if there was one, but the guy had disappeared, and I didn't want to lose my illumination of Arlene's wonderful body. I decided not to worry about it and stopped looking up.

Bonnie

I give Bonnie second place here not because of her lovemaking, which was simply intense, but because our night together was a one-off. And so was she: one of a kind.