How Did You Learn To Love Fellatio? Ch. 02

"I'm glad that she does. Wish I knew if I would."

"Hmm! You weren't suppose to get the wrong idea."

"I haven't, not the one I think you're afraid I could have. Oh, my idea is also wrong, but ... Too late, you really shouldn't have told me, but you did. Not your fault."

"I'm not your uncle."

"Next best thing to being one; better, tried and tested."

"We've had too much to drink!"

"Maybe, probably, but 'in vino veritas'."

My thighs had been twitching together. I wonder if his cock had moved under the table. My nipples were permanently aroused. Worse! I felt my hands sliding up under my breasts, my fingers slipping around them.

"Don't!" he murmured.

But my hands did, squeezing the sides of my breasts. What was I doing?!

"We have had too much to drink!" he repeated more emphatically.

"Yeah, maybe," I agreed, and let my hands slide down.

His expression relaxed a little, but then I recognized that his "we" suggested that he was including himself, wanting to blame the wine on how he was feeling. How? Just saying that he wasn't my uncle was the weakest excuse for not letting me suck his cock.!! Now I had really said it to myself!

"Yes, maybe," I repeated, this time remembering not to use the slang yeah, adding:

"Maybe, but maybe a good thing: you wanted to tell me about her - sweet - ..."

He nodded slightly with a little smile as I continued:

"... just couldn't anticipate ... Oh, I didn't get the wrong idea! I know you weren't wanting to suggest anything; you just couldn't anticipate that she and I had the same problem."

I liked my explanation. He seemed to, too, hardly smiling, but nodding. After a moment, he replied:

"I sure could not. Hmm? Hm-hmm! Kind of funny."

I nodded, chuckling with a cheerful smile, and he also did, and then we both laughed, releasing a lot of nervous tension. I liked his laugh, heard it often. Feeling very relaxed, I remarked:

"So, I don't have the wrong idea, and you're not my uncle, but, well, I said that already."

He nodded, then frowned slightly, looking past me. Then he looked back at me. I was looking at his eyes. They glanced at my breasts before they met mine. The corners of lips moved slightly, and then he murmured:

"You really want to."

It wasn't a question, sounded like he was just saying what he thought, that he had understood that I really wanted to. I nodded with a soft "um-hmm." The corners of his lips moved again. He murmured again:

"Maybe we haven't had too much wine."

"Maybe just enough," I murmured.

"Enough to tell each other all that, for sure."

"Not just a lot of words, what they said."

"You're good with words."

"Want me to say it?"

He nodded with slight smile. I felt my cheeks flush. They must have a couple of times before, but I hadn't noticed. I nodded, my hands slid up out of my lap, but stopped below my breasts. Of course, his eyes dropped down to my stiff nipples.

"I really want to," I murmured, as our eyes met again.

I heard a very soft, deep hum. Then he smiled slightly with a silent snort and said:

"No one ever said that to me before."

Why did my pussy feel so moist, when I was hoping that I could suck his cock? Oh, but I had licked my lips! He smiled a little better and added:

"May she would have, but I guess I acquiesced before she had to."

I was about to say that I hoped he would now, but he shrugged with a nod and put his hands on the table and stood up. I didn't have to say more! And his cock looked about as big as it could be without rising up. I must have looked at while I was standing; he smiled, when my eyes found his again. He chuckled with a grin and said:

"It told me that I should."

I must have been blushing down to my nipples, but I managed to smiled and reply:

"Tell it thanks from me."

We had to laugh again. He nodded towards the living room, and I followed him. He sat down in the armchair with a towel, an antique "fauteuil." a word I knew from classical literature. Was this how I could have ever imagined my first time would be, I thought, as I dropped to my knees on the thick oriental carpet. I looked up at him, and he smiled with a nod. I looked back down at his cock.

Nice cock; I was going to have to pick it up, even though it moved slightly. This was crazy! I had only shaken his hand at the airport several hours before, and now I was going to hold his cock! And at the moment, I couldn't even remember his first name! One's suppose to know a boy - man - be on a first name basis with him before one does this. Did he remember mine?

"It wants you to, too," he murmured. Had I been hesitating so long? Too strange! I had to chuckle and ask:

"Really?"

"Hm-hm-hmm! Really! It really wants you to."

I looked up at him with a grin, and we both almost laughed again.

"If we both want to," I replied and looked back down and picked it up, a little heavier in my hand than I had expected.

I licked my lips, and then they slipped around his cock, pushing his foreskin the last bit off his knob. How could I ever have questioned that I would want do this?! Of course, it was meant to fit in my pussy, but it fit so well in my mouth, so nice and round, its head, and so nice to caress with my tongue. I knew where, from using my hand back in high school, but my tongue enjoyed feeling that place much better than the tip of my finger or thumb could.

His cock really had wanted me to, twitching in appreciation. I heard him - what was his name? - moan softly. How could he have been so difficult about letting me; he knew it would be good, even if I was a beginner? Or did his niece and whoever do it better with experience? That's what I wanted now, experience, not just to discover whether I could, whether I wanted to. I did! I knew that now already.

Oh! Yeah, I fondle guys' balls too. Did his hang down longer than theirs had? It felt like it for my fingers - nice, his sack so loose, and his balls seemed bigger than the ones I remembered. He chuckled; he liked that too.

Did girls bob their head with a cock in their mouth, fucking it with their mouth? His cock and he liked that too, twitching and moaning, respectively, but I couldn't enjoy licking it that way. Oh, of course, "cocksucking;" I could lick and suck at the same time. He and his cock liked that too, all three of us enjoying it.

Oooh, his sack was drawing up, a tight ball filling my hand. Already? I knew what that meant. Pity; I wanted to enjoy this for longer. He moaned deeply and mumbled something in French, then in English: "You don't have to."

I nodded and shook my head, understanding his suggestion, but indicating that I did want to. If I was going to do it, I wanted it all, no matter how strange a couple of girls had said it was going to taste. If his niece and other liked it, I was going to. And if he had first mumble in French, he must have forgotten that I was silly American with no experience, was doing it good. It must be, if he was about to let me taste it. Oh! He couldn't think I was his niece, but must have remembered that it my first time. Was he so aroused that he was thinking in French? Or had there been other girls doing it for their first time with him?!

I wanted it, sucking bobbing my head, licking when my tongue could. He moaned, and his hips twitched, helping to move his cock in my bobbing mouth, his cock trying to fuck it. "Ahhg!" Almost too fucking deep in my throat. I grasped his cock with my other hand to keep that from happening again, clutching his tight sack. He groaned, as his hips thrust up again, and my hand pushed my head back. Then he grunted, and his hips thrust up again.

It wasn't the head of his cock in back of my throat. A great spurt of liquid hit my soft pallet. I must have bitten his cock when I had to swallow; he gave a pained "uhn!" but his hips kept moving, and more spurts shot in my mouth.

I had made him come! But I hadn't tasted it yet, but then I did. Very strange, like nothing I could have imagined. I could understand that other girls didn't like it; I wouldn't have, if I had had to taste it somewhere else. But I had wanted it, wanted it this way. I realized that I was also moaning, when I recognized that he was. He fondled my hair, and I move it around in my mouth, tasting it, yes, savoring it, now that I had decided that I liked it, suddenly recalling the first time I had tasted a very pungent French cheese and not liked the taste. I did after that, and now I liked what he had given me.

He fondled my hair again and murmured, first in French, then in English:

"Come, kiss me."

I raised my head, letting his cock slip from between my lips, and looked up at him, nodding and licking my lips. His hands urged me to rise up. When I did, they slid down and drew my hips closer. The seat of the chair was wide enough that I could slide my knees up between its arms and his hips. He drew them closer, my pussy sliding up on his cock, and we kissed.

The French don't better French kiss than men elsewhere, but no other man had wanted to have his tongue in my mouth, while I thought it still tasted from his semen. He did. I still couldn't remember his first name. As our tongues caressed, it occurred to me that if I spoke French with him, I should use the familiar forms: "tutoiement." I had learned them, but not so well that I could really use them. Before he could forget and use French again, when I had recovered my tongue from his mouth, I murmured:

"Thank you. I really wanted to."

"And thank you! It did too, I did too, just difficult to admit."

"Hmmm! It sure seemed like it, but thanks, that you both then did."

"Um-hmm. Maybe better that it took so long for me to admit that I did."

"Or I could have thought that you had the wrong idea," I murmured.

"I didn't! But that occurred to me too, that you could think so."

"And that you could, about me."

"Better not ask! I began to have my doubts about your saying you were like my niece."

"I was! Funny. Not that, that I had to ask myself why I had questioned that I wouldn't want to."

"My good luck."

"Mine especially."

"And without my niece?"

"Hmm? How? If you hadn't mentioned her? Or if I hadn't needed your having told me about her?"

"Hmmm? We wouldn't be here like this, for sure."

"Not tonight," I agreed.

"If I hadn't mentioned her, but we had all our clothes off?"

"We did, without her."

"You didn't have to tell me that you'd done that."

"You could have remembered the towels, so that I didn't."

"I really wanted to," he replied.

We chuckled heartedly at his reply. When I leaned back a little, his hands slid around and found my breasts. I smiled with a hum and said:

"Better than my holding them."

"Oooh! That was when I started to worry about whether I wouldn't."

"That's good! And without her - and clothes?"

"Wouldn't we have wanted to, somehow?" he suggested.

"Maybe wanted to, but one of us would have had to say, do something."

"Not me!" he replied with a grin.

"Good thing that you have a niece. You can tell her thanks from me."

"And from me," he agreed with a smile, squeezing my breasts, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples.

I purred and murmured:

"Maybe I could have done that, just inadvertently, you know, when you had looked at them, just to let you know that I liked that you had."

"You would do that? A nice American girl?"

"Wouldn't a French girl?"

"Hmm! Probably! Just never happened - to me."

"Because your hands were there first."

"Not this time," he replied with a grin, his fingers doing nice things to my nipples."

"Feels good, but I didn't do that to them."

"They feel good too."

"Mmmm! Not like they do for me.

My thighs twitched against his hips. He smiled in response. That twitch had been a reflex, the next one wasn't. He hummed, looking in my eyes with a serious expression. My thighs twitched again, a reflex. He murmured:

"I like to do it too, owe you something."

"Mmmmm!" I responded, wondering if I had really felt his cock move under my pussy.

"I really want to," he murmured.

His cock had moved. Anything he wanted to do. I nodded and murmured:

"Pill."

"Not that way," he murmured, nodding.

I moaned again with nod. Somehow, we changed places, me sitting on the chair, he dropping down between my legs. A couple of guys had licked my pussy, one once all the way, but not like this, in bed, not so that I could look down and watch him. And when they had, I had always been worried that they wanted me to suck their cocks, why I hadn't let them finish licking my pussy, but he wanted to!

His hands urged my thighs up over the arms of the chair. I saw him looking at my open pussy. Did it look as good as his niece's young pussy that first time? Good enough that he moaned as he lowered his head. I moaned at the first touch of his tongue.

Maybe cocksucking came naturally for girls - if I could my first time - but I knew guys' tongues didn't intuitively know what a pussy wanted, and I had been too reticent to tell them. I didn't have to tell - his name suddenly came to me, finally - Étienne, the French form of Steven/Stephan.

Étienne's tongue knew, knew how and where! This was going to better than many missionary style fucks, just lying there and letting him screw me. I moaned and grasped my breasts; it was going to be better than all of those. When I moaned again, his eyes glanced up at me, and he moaned, letting me feel vibrations on my pussy. Had I earned this, deserved this?! At least, I knew his name now.

Was I so much aroused from everything before that I was already so close? It was so good, what he was doing! I didn't want it to happen yet, but couldn't stop him. I groaned and almost cried out:

"Oh! Étienne!"

Hearing his name spurred him to greater effort. My hips twitched, and my fingers mauled my nipples. Imbecile kids' fucking was nothing in comparison! He was grasping my hips to keep his mouth on my pussy. Let it happen. I resigned myself to the inevitable.

It happened, but it had never been like that before! My body was jerking uncontrollably. Had I peed?! It had felt like it, but he was moaning, sounding like he was pleased, and his tongue was lapping up from below my pussy; he wanted to taste it, like I had wanted to taste his semen.

I moaned, trying to relax, but my pussy couldn't. Could I remember feeling it had contracted like that before? His tongue lapped up again. What did it taste like, what did I taste like? And again; he must like it. I hoped so with a long sigh, and heard him sigh - "my" Étienne.

We both sighed again, and then - shock! - his tongue back there again! Don't! Not again! His tongue didn't hear my silent cries. My pelvis twitched, and my whole body convulsed again! Oh, fuck! It had been good, but I couldn't stand that. One fantastic orgasm was all right, and that one too, but I can't stand any more - I thought. His tongue flipped there again, just a couple of times. I grasped my breasts with a pained moan, and his tongue flipped again. My body jerked. Had I peed again? His tongue was lapping up the length of my pussy.

Thank God! Enough, Étienne, I silently thanked him. Too soon! His tongue flipped up just once, and my body spasmed. Don't! I silently commanded, anticipating the worst. It was like waiting for another electrical shock. Don't know how I got that image, but it was, the waiting, and then the shock, his tongue flipping there again!

"Oh fuck!" I cried out: "Enough! Oh fuck!"

He raised his head. My eyes had been clenched shut. They opened, seeing him nod. But he had misunderstood my desperate exclamations; he rose up, and his cock plunged in my pussy!

I closed my eyes and let it happen. No one had fucked me so hard and fast. After the first couple of thrusts, my pussy wanted even still more. How could it?! It did.

"Fuck!" I gasped, a resigned acceptance of what he was doing.

He did, and somehow my pussy wanted it. I had another orgasm, and he had his. When his grunts subsided, I reached up and drew him down over me, just embracing him. We gasped and sighed. Had my pussy squeezed his wilting cock out? It slipped out, and I felt my pussy dribbling. Eventually, he raised his head and looked down at me. A slight, wry smile passed over his lips, and one, over mine. He hummed softly and murmured:

"Maybe we shouldn't have done that."

"If you wanted to? I didn't know that I could - want to."

"You did?"

"Kind of had to, but then I did, before you stood up, and then ... It was never like that before."

"I shouldn't have, that much, 'and then'."

"My fault, using that word. Should watch my mouth."

He smiled with a nod and replied:

"I told you that you were good with words."

"Hmm! Just one to be careful to use."

Did he or I initiate our kiss? Then we both had to go to the bathroom, the nearest. "Mine," he said and we rushed to his bedroom, to the adjoining bathroom. He gestured for me to use the toilet. I did. He was moving his legs like a little kid that had to go, then gave me an apologetic smirk and turned to the washbasin. After a few moments, he said:

"I'll wash here," and looked back at the bidet.

"Never used one," I replied, then adding: "but now know why the French do."

"Just because we didn't used to have so many bathtubs and showers."

I used the bidet, tried to, first spraying myself, but then washing my pussy and thighs. He offered me his towel, and I dried myself. We left the bathroom. In his bedroom, he stopped and glanced at the big double bed, then at me and said:

"Maybe, probably we did much too much today, Dorothy, but, well, I guess you understand ..." He glanced at his bed again.

He had remembered my name; if he had ever forgotten it during the day, when his cock was in my mouth, my pussy, or his mouth there. I smiled and replied:

"It would even be worse, if we didn't, terribly funny. Not really, but how would we look at each other in the morning?"

"You really are good with words." I replied:

"I really want to ..." quickly adding: "be good," with a smirk.

"You are."

He held out his arms and we embrace, with a fond kiss. When he said that he had to turn out the lights, I said that I would clean up in the kitchen in the morning. He nodded, and went off, then I heard him clearing the table. I waited, and then ventured to get in the bed. I had never slept in double bed. I folded back the covers and waited for him, suddenly realizing how tired I was. When he returned, he smiled, apparently approving that I was already in bed. He turned out the light and crept in bed with me. We embrace again. I murmured:

"Too tired even to talk."

"And I wouldn't know what to say. Good night. Bonne nuit."

"You too, bonne nuit, about all the French I can manage right now."

I rolled over and he moved closer to me, sliding his arm over my side. I pulled his hand up on my breast. He held it with a hum, and I hummed, and fell asleep before I could think about anything.

Oh, it was wonderful! Of course, we knew it was only for a week together, looking for a room for me. Then he suggested, however, that I take the cheapest acceptable room for a mail address and stay with him. It was wonderful for almost a year together. We both reassured each other that it was it was just for so long. That only made it better. We never did it again that much at one time, chuckling about that we had our first time.

But we did other things. Once I wanted to suck his balls and sat under him. That was a little funny, not that I was sucking his ball, although he was chuckling. I suddenly remember the statue of Romulus and Remus under the she-wolf. When I told him that, we both laughed. Then I was sucking his cock again, and we were both moaning - like so many times before.