Mars Memoirs Ch. 01

I'm stunned to see just how much cum I spilled onto my shirt and shorts as she pulls me into a sitting position, grabs the bottom of my tee and levers it over my head. As she shoves me back on the mattress, she wipes the goo off her hands onto my shirt and offhandedly tosses it into the air. Even before it hits the floor she's got my semen-spotted shorts and boxers past my knees, and they quickly alight on my shirt.

"There. That's better. Now, John, come here. Let's snuggle." Kyla lies down beside me and pulls me close, onto my side. I'm still quivering and twitching as she tucks my head into her shoulder and begins stroking my back, murmuring nothings, humming, comforting me as one would a child. It's incredibly sweet, very intimate. I melt into her, enthralled, until I feel her other hand lightly close around my limp dick. I start, freeze in anticipation of more delicious pain, but her touch is so light that it doesn't hurt, and I instinctively realize that she is just affirming her affection for it, her control over it. I swoon back into my post-orgasmic fog, her hand petting my back, lulling me into a trance.

I doze.

Slurping. My ears awake first as cognizance ebbs back into my blurry brain. Lips are surrounding my flaccid penis. I'm on my back and Kyla's tawny hair is spilling over my belly. She's fellating me.

"Kyla, wait, I..."

Her head appears and those captivating amber orbs lock mine to hers. "John, trust me. You've got more semen in those big balls, and I want it, every drop. Just lie back and relax." With that she smiles, eyes laughing, and gives me a little kiss as she flops my limp prick to and fro. She giggles. "Well, your Troublemaker just doesn't seem to want to get hard, does it? Don't worry, I know exactly what to do." Her head disappears.

Wet warmth surrounds me.

After the orgasm to end them all, I am absolutely certain there is no way I can come again -- maybe not for a week -- but her warm, soothing lips on my penis feel wonderful, so I lie back and let go, surrender. When previous girlfriends had given me head, I always enjoyed it. I'd thought that Marla was pretty good, but soon realize she's but a rank amateur, as the mouth of a master begins its work.

Kyla takes my limp noodle deep into her and sucks, gently at first, then harder. Then very hard. The strong vacuum draws more blood into my penis, and once it swells her first finger and thumb clasp tightly around the base of my shaft, trapping the blood within. "Good," she comments sensually, admiring her work. Holding my cock by its stem she licks the head like it's a melting ice cream cone. Savoring a tasty treat.

I am mesmerized as her lips again surround me. She relaxes her cock-ring finger as she sucks, then squeezes hard again, holding the new blood captive. "Good, John." More licks and kisses.

She does it all once more. Then again. And again. Over and over. Kyla inflates my penis like it's a limp balloon in a bell jar vacuum and, as it inexorably keeps getting bigger and heavier, the feeling is fabulous -- I can't believe this wonderful, beautiful woman is giving me such exquisite pleasure -- and I'm stunned to realize that her technique, her artistry, will be enough to let me come again.

But Kyla does more. Much more.

When she has me thick, turgid and semi-erect, phase two begins. At the same time she sucks, her tongue, prickly as a cat's, licks the underside of my penis, right where the shaft meets the head. My most sensitive spot. It is so intense that I can't help but catch my breath and twitch with each laving, and before long can't suppress my squirming, jerking and gasping. All the while Kyla's other hand tickles my testes, squeezing, kneading, cajoling them almost to the verge of pain. From their tingles and prickles I know my balls are working, striving, doing their best to obey her commands, to produce what she wants. I'm rapt and enamored, amazed that Kyla has me hard again.

In phase three, Kyla's relentless, powerful suction extends down my urethra like it's a soda straw. As my tube branches, reaching into the very core of my glands, she vacuums new, nascent sperm out of my exposed testicles. Her sucking siphons fresh embryonic fluid, just as it is produced, from both my susceptible seminal vesicles and vulnerable prostate.

My overtaxed organs spasm as they are drained anew with each searing suck. The three liquids blend when they meet, foaming and frothing, and I groan in rapturous torment as they are dragged agonizingly slowly up my shaft, searing every nerve as they creep closer, roiling and boiling, eager to erupt. As the first molten glob burns almost to the head of my cock, I writhe, shudder, and quiver, moaning and shaking uncontrollably. Kyla lies down on my stomach, then sucks again, dragging it up, to the very edge.

Then over. When my toes curl, my thighs and buttocks clench, and I hear my keening cry, I know that nothing can ever be as overwhelming as the climax Kyla is giving me.

Wrong.

Her finger plunging into my rectum has a cataclysmic effect. I'd never come as hard as just before, but it pales in comparison to the massive, astounding explosion of the second. Truly excruciating. As her fingertip plows furrows in my prostate, and her sucking and tonguing bleed my cock, it can't help but bulge and convulse, to ejaculate, over and over and over. As the feelings morph from tortuous ecstasy, to rapturous agony, then to actual torment, my maniacal, howling cries reverberate back to me. They sound like squeals from a stuck, dying pig, but I can no more suppress them than my thrashing and flailing, as I dance to the tune of her relentless tongue.

Even after my tool just obediently distends and throbs, suffering through dry heaves when there is no more cum to disgorge, Kyla keeps at me. Her torso has again blocked my hands from protecting my penis, and I can't pull her off. As she adamantly kneads my balls and mercilessly reams my prostate, my organs seem to turn inside out. They eject every last drop of immature, underdeveloped semen, and the spasmodic cramping she induces in my mechanism forces those last dregs up my pole and into her voracious mouth. The stuck pig just will not die and squeals on, as my desperate, agonized pleas for mercy fill the air and my hands futilely try to pull her away.

Kyla finally relents. The last massive suck is accompanied by her finger squeegeeing up my pole, driving out the last dribbles, and her mouth makes a loud pop as her lips finally release my tortured member. Reeling and convulsing, dazed and but semi-conscious, I role away from Kyla, curling into a defensive ball on the bed.

Her presence warms my back as her arms envelop me. Her rapid, excited breathing is hot on my neck as she whispers ardently, "John, that was so exciting! Thirteen! It was a great orgasm, wasn't it?"

Still dazed, I don't answer, and she continues, "John, that was such fun. Didn't you love it?"

Panting. Sighing. Twitching.

Insistently, "John, I want you to answer me. Didn't you like that? I thought it was wonderful." I shudder, as the lightest touch of her fingers on my chest seems too much.

I gather myself, and though my voice is tremulous, I do manage to form words. "It was incredible, Kyla, but at the end it was too much, way, way too intense. It almost hurt."

"Oh, poor baby. But you're really not hurt, are you?" Her fingers brushing my chest seem soothing, in contrast to her mocking tone.

"No, I guess not. But why did you keep going, even when I tried to get you to stop? When you knew it was too much for me to bear?"

Pause.

"You needed to be taught a lesson, John."

"A lesson? I don't...."

"All last night you thought you were in charge, didn't you, plying me with liquor, dancing, and sweet little lies? You were planning to seduce me, have your way with me, to fuck me, weren't you?"

"Well, I was really into you, Kyla, but it was just..."

Her voice turns icy, aggressive, and stops me cold, "You boys are SO easy. All I have to do is start stroking your Troublemaker," I wince as she recaptures my limp, flaccid noodle, "and you forget about everything. Your mind just blanks and then I can have MY way with you, do anything I want. Use your lust to control you. To punish you. Isn't that right, John?"

Confusion reigns; who is this angry siren? Where did sweet Kyla go? I manage, "But why would you want to punish me? I didn't do anyth..."

Kyla roughly shoves me onto my back, and stares at me belligerently from six inches away. I'm mesmerized by the seething, angry fire in her eyes as she continues, "You're all pigs, just like Bill, and need to be punished."

"What are you talking about, Kyla? Who is Bill?"

Kyla unloads. "He's an asshole, like all you guys.

"You see, even after I turned eighteen, I was still a virgin, a naïve and shy girl. One Saturday my older brother had a bunch of friends over to watch football. One of them, Bill, started making eyes at me, flirting, and lured me down to the basement, saying we'd play a game. He was really handsome and charming, a college senior, and I was flattered that he was paying attention to me. He pretended it was all just good fun, teasing me, poking me, touching me, then kissing me.

"It was really nice at first, snuggling on the couch, sipping the funny-tasting coke drink he gave me, and making out. I was exhilarated that he liked me, told me I was beautiful, and his hands and kisses made me feel all tingly.

"When he took it out it was the first time I'd ever seen a guy's erect penis. He put my hand on it and it was so soft, but the core was really hard, and I was amazed how the skin slid up and down the shaft. After a bit his face got all red, he started panting, and his body began to twitch each time I stroked it. I was fascinated, seeing how agitated, how hot and bothered, it made him, and how drops of clear fluid came out the tip. I started feeling woozy, probably because I was so excited, too.

"It was all so cool, and I felt so mature, that I didn't think anything of it when he eased me down on the couch and lay beside me. As he kissed me more, fondled my breasts and tickled my thighs, I started breathing hard and feeling really dizzy. When he told me to, I kept fingering his thing.

"I was stunned when he pulled the crotch of my gym shorts and panties to the side and put his fingers in me, and I tried to push his hand away. I wasn't strong enough though, and after I struggled for a while but couldn't get his fingers out, it started to feel amazing, especially when he diddled my clit, and then I didn't want it to end and took my hand off his. He put it back on his penis and the tip was all wet and slick as I slid my thumb on it. From the squishy sounds I could tell I was really wet, too, and got consumed in the feelings, how they kept building.

"Then Bill shifted over on top of me and I knew he was going to fuck me. Suddenly I wanted him to stop and struggled to get up, but he was too strong and heavy and my thrashing just got him further between my legs. He whispered, "Yeah, baby," as if he thought I was making it easier for him. He kept kissing me, and I was so dizzy I couldn't talk, couldn't tell him no. Between kisses Bill murmured that I was so sexy, really wet and ready, and just when he said that he knew I wanted it, too, I felt the tip nudge inside my lips.

"He covered my mouth with his hand, then just shoved it in. It hurt and didn't feel good how he started pumping it in and out of me, always faster and harder. It was just starting to feel better, even a little nice as the growing warmth began building and radiating out, when suddenly it was all over. He went all tense, shuddering and gasping, trembling on top of me.

"Afterward it was really messy, all his sticky goo oozing out of me and my blood everywhere. I cried a little but he just chuckled, hugged me, kissed me, told me I was a woman now, and that I'd get used to it, to being fucked. Like all girls do. As I wiped myself off, Bill cautioned that if I ever told anyone, he'd say that I was a slut, that I led him on. He showed me the awful pictures of me he'd surreptitiously taken, one of me staring at my hand on his cock, and one with my legs spread wide, his semen dripping out of me. I was so mortified I never said anything. He was a pig, just like all you guys.

"I knew he'd try to do it again the next week, so came up with a plan. I remembered how he lost control when he got close to coming -- he'd pant, his face got all red, and his body would jerk when I slid my hand on him. His mind just went away, and I realized that I could use his penis -- which caused all the trouble, was the Troublemaker -- to control him.

"When he came over the next week I pretended to have liked it and went down to the basement with him again. Once he started kissing me I went right for his erection, and just as I thought, once I got it out and started rubbing it, he got all flustered and just sat there panting and wincing. Of course he wanted to fuck me again, but I said, 'OK, in a minute' and kept stroking him faster. I got him to shoot out all his stuff onto his shirt and pants, which I knew would be really embarrassing.

"I discovered that, after his first ejaculation, I could make him spurt again and again just by keeping up my stroking. I also found out that once he couldn't shoot any more, his penis became really, really sensitive, and that I could make him suffer for what he'd done to me. So I kept going, jacking him, making him gasp and spasm, over and over, until he was moaning and groaning and finally begged me to stop. I did, but wiped the goo on my hands all over his shirt. He started to get mad, but I just smiled, grabbed his cock again and he settled right down. I've never felt so powerful, and really turned on, by being able to control him.

"I did it again the next week, and it was amazing how Bill got so into it, into me. In another week he was like a tame little puppy, and started asking me out, always wanting to please me, do anything for me so I'd jack him off. Even after I'd make him shoot over and over until he couldn't any more, then torture him, he'd always come back. It was SO fun that day I told him I never wanted to see him again. And showed him the pics I'd taken of him. Ha! You should have seen his face!

"Since then I've been taking my revenge on guys, punishing them, like I just did you. Now you know that women are powerful, that we can control you, not the other way around."

I am stunned, consumed with sorrow and anger at how Kyla had been so mistreated, at what had so deeply injured this wonderful, very complex woman for whom I have fallen completely. I push aside protective thoughts of revenge on Bill, as I need to concentrate. I must fix this.

As I search her fierce, injured eyes, the path becomes clear. "Kyla, I'm so terribly sorry that happened to you -- Bill was vile, and cynically got you drunk, maybe drugged you, then cruelly seduced you. He stole from you what you deserved -- making love for the first time with someone you chose, someone you loved. Like Mozart's Don Giovanni, he should be summoned directly to Hell. For eternity. I understand why you are angry and want justice.

"But I'm confused. Why would you want to punish me for something that he did? I thought we had a wonderful time last night -- I certainly did -- and yes, I was doing everything I could to make you like me, but that's what people do when they get involved. I had the impression we both enjoyed ourselves. You certainly seemed to be acting in a way that would attract me to you, also. Isn't that right?"

Kyla remains mum, so I continue, brushing her glowing, warm cheek gently as I say, "You know it's true. We behaved just like men and women do who become interested in each other. I certainly wanted to kiss you, and much more, but I wasn't domineering. I didn't force you to do anything. In fact, you were much more assertive than I. You felt my penis before I even dared to touch your wonderful breasts. Please, Kyla, you need to be fair. Isn't what I'm saying right?"

"Well, of course. After you came on to me so rudely at dinner, jostling into line so aggressively and insisting on talking to me, I decided that you needed to be taught a lesson. So, yes, I was forward, responding to your ploys and pretending to enjoy everything. It's how I do things. How I get even."

"I don't buy it. Do you remember the final song we danced to last night?"

"Of course, it's a classic, 'Love Me,' by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. Elvis made it famous but I like Chris Isaac's version better."

"When we were dancing, you started to sing the words to me. When you sang 'But love me,' you'd always pull me close, push your breasts into my chest, press your thigh between mine, and rub against my cock, which I know you knew was hard."

Kyla giggles slightly. "Well, I do know how to turn boys on. You're SO easy."

"But it was much more. Each time you sang, 'Just to feel your beating heart, beating close to me,' you melded every part of your body into me, sighed, nibbled my neck, then kissed me. It was incredibly sweet and amazingly intimate, Kyla. I can't believe you were faking that. We connected. I know it was real."

"Well, it was a pretty romantic evening, and I guess I did like you. A little. But..."

"And it worked. I fell for you, Kyla. Hard. You are all I've been able to think of since. You know the feeling -- suddenly, like magic, everything is perfect, beautiful."

Kyla nods. I keep brushing her hot cheek, feathering touches on her flushed neck as I continue.

"I also know you were attracted to me. Turned on. When we were kissing, you made sounds, motions, your breathing was different. Either you're the best actress in the world or you were as into it as I was. Come on now. Admit it."

"I was just working my magic on you, John. Nothing more."

"And just now, when you were getting me off, teasing me, torturing me so wonderfully, I know you were aroused by that, too. As a matter of fact, you still are."

"No way! As if you could tell!"

"Your face and neck are hot and flushed, and your breathing is shallow and rapid."

"It's just warm in here, that's all."

"Kyla, I can smell you. And I don't mean your perfume."

Kyla's magical eyes quaver, then fall from mine. It's true.

I shift to my side and brush her arm with my fingertips. "Let me make love to you, Kyla, like you did to me, but gentler. I promise I won't try enter you, to violate you like Bill did, no matter what. But I've fallen for you, totally, and want to make you feel as good as you did me. Please." I continue to feather my fingers across her skin as we converse.

She shudders slightly, but avers, "No, you're wrong. I'm not turned on and certainly not attracted to you. I don't like boys." The breathless quality of her denials contradicts her words.

"But I know you're aroused, on edge. Let me make love to you. It will be wonderful, and again, I promise, upon everything I hold sacred, I will not take advantage of you, I will not fuck you."

"My fiancé will take care of me later. I certainly don't, unh, need you." Her breath had caught after "don't" as she shivered under my fingers. I keep stroking her as I begin asking tangential questions, like what her internship was like last summer. Was it Camus or Kafka who advised to distract the mind whilst arousing the body? Perhaps Sun Tzu?

Kyla's breath keeps catching as, under cover of our random conversation, I expand the scope of my feathery touches. To her back through her thin blouse. A peck on her forehead. Fingers find skin in the gap between blouse and shorts. She tenses; I retreat to the safety of her clothed back. All's well, and I nuzzle her ear. When my fingers again blunder into the gap, feel silky skin, it's old news. Accepted. I nibble her neck as my hand moves up, under her blouse, just a bit. Falls back to safety, then ventures further. I brush her lips with mine. My hand moves to the side of her waist, and, yielding to my coaxing pressure, she eases onto her back. I lightly kiss her lips again. She smiles. She knows what's going on.