tagHumor & SatireI Love Dick

I Love Dick


"I am not a hooker!" I screamed at my roommate Julia.

Julia and I had just begun our junior year of college. We had shared a dorm room since we were freshmen. Julia, a willowy black-haired beauty with incredibly long legs and small but firm breasts made rather unique by huge nipples, often slept in my bed. Or I slept in hers. Neither one of us had found a frat rat yet who could spell cunnilingus, let alone do it very well.

"Sarah, you just showed me four one hundred dollar bills and said you got them for doing some dude," Julia replied snidely.

"It was an accident! The guy thought I was a hooker, and one thing just led to another."

"Maybe it was that 'I LOVE DICK' T-shirt you are wearing. Not only are the words sexually suggestive, but the shirt is too tight and you're not wearing a bra."

It was a Steelers novelty T-shirt, black with gold lettering. Under the "I LOVE DICK" in big black letters was the word "LeBeau" in much smaller letters. Dick Lebeau is the Pittsburgh Steelers Defensive Coordinator.

"Well, the damn shirt shrunk!" I snapped, not able to think of much else to say.

"Just where did this hookup happen?" Julia asked, frowning disapprovingly at me.

"You know that big truck stop on I-79 at the exit where we get off when we are going to the Glenview Mall? The battery on my cell phone went dead, so I stopped to use one of those outside pay phones at the truck stop."

"That truck stop is notorious for being a hooker hangout. I read it in the paper a couple months ago."

"Like I knew."

Now Julia had a strange look on her face. "So tell me exactly what happened—every little detail—and don't leave anything out."

I did.

* * *

The man in the silver Mercedes had pulled up to me as I stood at the phone, having just hung up. His window was down. He was quite distinguished-looking in a tweed sports jacket, blue shirt with a button-down collar, and a darker solid blue tie that had some sort of emblem on it. I guessed his age to be mid-thirties.

"Miss, could you help me?" he asked. "I have a problem."

"Hey, I'll try. What do you need?"

He smiled. Perfect teeth. I liked his smile. He removed his sunglasses. Not that he needed them at the moment. It looked like it was about to rain. I liked his eyes, too. I thought he seemed okay, so I smiled back.

"How much?" he inquired.

"How much for what?" I asked, confused. "How much to use the phone?"

He stared at my chest. "No young lady, how much for you to prove to me that you love dick?"


"Your shirt." He laughed.

"Oh yeah, I get a lot of comments on it." Then I laughed. "I have some other funny ones too. Actually, they are downright raunchy."

"So you must be a Steelers fan. Me too. Do you like to gamble? Would you like to make a little wager?"

"On the first game of the season against the Titans? Sure, I'll take the Steelers, and you can have the points. The Steelers are gonna kick some butt in that one!"

We chatted about the Steelers for several minutes. He seemed very friendly and nice. I didn't really suspect anything unusual, and he didn't make me feel wary at all.

"My name is James," he offered. "What's yours?"


Suddenly he stretched his arm out the window. The Rolex looked very expensive. In his hand was a crisp new one hundred dollar bill. "Please take it, Sarah, so you have some money to bet with."

I'm sure I looked somewhat perplexed, but my hand did reach out and take the money. "So what's the bet you want to make, James?"

Just then it started to rain quite hard.

"Why don't you get in, Sarah? You don't want to get soaked. I'd like to talk to you some more."

I did get in. I'm not sure exactly why, but I did. He pulled his car over to where some tractors and semi-trailers were parked. Nobody was in any of the trucks that I could see.

"So what's the bet?" I asked again.

"Hey, I just picked up some wine coolers at the state store." He reached over into the backseat and fetched the four-pack. "Tea Breeze, and cold. Do you want one?"

"Oh, I really like those! But I'm not legal—only twenty. If that doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me."

James chuckled. "It would bother me a lot more if you were under eighteen." He handed me one of the coolers and took one for himself.

We drank them and talked some more about the Steelers. Both of us were very excited about the upcoming season and the possibility of returning to Super Bowl glory. He opened the glove compartment and pulled out his Game Boy Advance.

"Oh, so this is what you want to play and bet on?" I inquired.

"Maybe. I have Madden, but you need more cash to bet with, 'eh? The more money you have, the more money you can win."

"Makes sense to me," I purred. All this talk of green was starting to go my head, especially since I had exactly $23.42 in my bank account and only some change in my purse.

James pulled out the wallet in his jacket pocket and extracted another one hundred dollar bill. He handed it to me, but when I went to take it, he didn't let go. "I can't help but notice you are not wearing a bra, Sarah, and it is obvious you are quite well-endowed. Ever do wet T-shirt contests?"

"Oh sure, but not in this black T-shirt. White is preferable because you can see through it better. Hey, if I'm going to enter the contest, I want to win, ya know?"

"Yes, and I be you've won your share. How about spring break? Did you ever flash?"

I took another wine cooler, and felt a strange desire to be a little bolder with this guy. After taking a couple of sips, I said matter-of-factly, "Let's see, half the guys on spring break at Panama City two years ago probably have a pic of my boobs. And last year on spring break in Mazatlan . . ."

"You can have this hundred dollar bill if you take off your shirt."

I'm sure I looked a bit apprehensive at first, but I started to do it. When I had lifted my shirt from the bottom with one hand until he could see almost to my nipples and then stopped, he let go of the C-note. I put it in the front pocket of my denim cut-offs with the other one. Then I took the shirt all the way off.

"Wow!" he blurted. "You are totally gorgeous. I love redheads, anyway." He stared at my chest. "And those incredible big brown eyes . . ."

"My eyes are blue, James. We better get to playing the game and the bet soon. Classes start for me tomorrow at State, and I have a million things to do. Yeah, and I have an eight o'clock class tomorrow—that sucks!"

For a moment he looked a little taken back. "Yes, let's get down to it. I'm ready." He pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket again and took out two more hundred dollar bills and placed them on the dashboard. "You have two hundred, and there is mine."

"Okay, and what's the bet, James?"

"I'll bet you two hundred dollars you can't get all of my penis in your pretty painted mouth."

"Say what?"

"Sarah, so how about it?" His eyes begged. I still wasn't frightened in the least.

I contemplated the matter momentarily, recalling the "biggest" guy I ever sucked off, a basketball player I had dated briefly last semester. The dude really enjoyed making me gag. I reached over and put my hand in James' lap. He felt hard but not that big. I unzipped him and struggled a bit to get his cock out of his pants. By the time I did get it out, he was rock-hard but still not all that big, about your average six inches or so I estimated. Maybe a little bigger, but definitely not something I didn't think I could deep-throat. After all, I had practiced on some huge pickles before I ever sucked a real cock.

"You must need a blowjob really bad to pay $400 for one, I guess," I cooed, and I couldn't help but giggle.

"I need a blowjob real bad from the hottest redhead I have ever seen," he responded rather seriously.

"Oh, what the hell," I muttered with a shrug, and put my two C-notes on the dashboard next to his.

"Let's get out of the car," he suggested. "Nobody is around. I'd rather be standing with you on your knees."

"Whatever, dude, it's your blowjob."

We got out of the Mercedes. He leaned against it, and I got down in front of him. I placed my large purse under my knees so they wouldn't get scraped on the pavement.

James dropped his pants to his ankles. "Okay baby, suck it! Suck it good!"

"Does your penis have a name? Most dudes have a name for their dick. Why, I don't know. My pussy doesn't have a name."

"As a matter of fact, it does have a name. I call it Charlie the Tuna Tamer."

"That's a cute name. Well, let's take Charlie for a trip down my throat, shall we?"

"Oh yeah! Do you mind if I talk to you like a whore?"

"If it helps you get off quicker, go for it. Fellatio is the one act where I don't mind premature ejaculation."

"Suck it bitch! Tickle your tonsils and breathe through your ears, you spunk guzzling gutter slut!"

I began to play with his cock with my hands and traced my lips with the head.

"Ready or not, hear you cum," I purred.

"Gobble it, you chatty cunt!" he blurted. "You talk too much for a stupid fucking whore. Just play the skin flute. Make Charlie spit, bitch! Go get your pearl necklace."

I covered my teeth with my lips, put him in my mouth, and slid my moistened tongue over the head until my lips closed around the shaft just behind the corona. I began to slide him in and out of my mouth, mixing it up by licking the sensitive underside of his shaft and family jewels, and then I softly blew on the moistened areas. I gripped the base of his cock with my left hand and slid it in tandem with my mouth while I fondled his balls with my right hand. His heavy breathing, moans of pleasure, and dirty words told me I was on the right track.

"Oh yeah, you fucking cocksucker . . . ohhhh yeah . . . ahhhh you slutty fucking cunt . . . oh yeah . . . ohhhhh yeah . . ."

After only a few minutes, I could tell his climax was close. I began to deep-throat him. All the way in and all the way out—over and over as fast as I could. James began to thrust his hips upwards to meet my eager mouth. Deeper and deeper down my throat. When he was on the edge of orgasm, I practically stopped doing anything except hold him tight by his ass cheeks and let him fuck my mouth.

"Ohhhh you dirty fucking cocksucking whore . . . ahhhhh . . . oh yeah . . . ahhhhh . . ."

And then James exploded spasmodically. I swallowed most of it. Only once did I come up off him briefly as he ejaculated. I let him watch his cum shoot in my mouth, as I held the head of his cock on my tongue. Then I put him back in my mouth and sucked out every last drop and held him there until the swelling subsided. When I finally pulled him out, I wiped off the little bit of cum that was dribbling from my chin with a Kleenex from my purse, stood up and said, "Wow James, you really did need a blowjob bad!"

"I told you I did. Thank you, Sarah. That was incredible! Best blowjob I ever had."

"Thank you, James. It's been a pleasure meeting you." I reached into the Mercedes and took the four bills from the dashboard. "A real pleasure."

"The pleasure has been all mine, Sarah."

I got out, went to my own car, and drove away.

* * *

After I finished telling Julia the story, she remained silent for several minutes, seemingly mulling over the episode. "Damn girlfriend, you got $400 just for sucking some guy's dick? We'd be rich if the frat rats paid for it like that. The most we get is a few big plastic glasses of warm foamy beer."

"Exactly my thoughts."

"You poor girl, you got him off, but he didn't do anything for you. Would you like me to fix that?"

Julia didn't wait for an answer. She pulled my T-shirt over my head, and then she unbuttoned and unzipped my denim cut-offs and pulled them and my panties off. Her ravishing tongue went quickly to work and didn't stop until my entire body shook in the throes of multi-orgasmic ecstasy.

* * *

The next morning Julia and I went to our eight o'clock class, Myths and Rituals of Creation and Procreation, taught by James Manchester, PhD. He was new to the university. We got settled at our desks as did the other students. The professor then walked in. I sat through his lecture in a state of semi-shock.

When he finished and the students began to file out, I lingered so I could be the last, and I spoke to Dr. Manchester briefly.

"What's up with you, Sarah?" Julia questioned when I met her in the hall. "You look freaked-out or something."

"I won't be going to that class with you any more, Julia. I'll be getting an 'A' despite my poor attendance."


"Our professor, Dr. Manchester, is the guy from the truck stop last night. I'm meeting him again tonight. He wants me to wear my 'I LOVE DICK' shirt again. Oh, and he is going to wear his T-shirt that says 'VAGINATARIAN' on it and show me how he won it."

Julia looked at me, now quite amused, and asked, "Does he have a friend?"

* * *

Author's Note: If you add me as one of your favorite authors, you can easily tell when I have new stories.

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