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And in the heart of it was Sue. Middle age had not dimmed her appeal one iota. Phil unabashedly stared at her legs. Just stared. He usually had to be furtive looking at women, glancing out the side of his eyes, or turning his head ever so slightly. To look with open desire at female flesh, without having to hide himself...he felt a rush of gratitude to his friend.
"Are there things you've always wanted to do with a beautiful woman?"
"Tons."
"Do them. Anything you want. Just don't get us arrested."
Phil ran his fingers through that hair, that long blonde hair. It wasn't like a man's hair. It was soft, silky, luxurious. It felt wonderful.
He moved his lips closer to her cheeks. They didn't have the smooth perfection of a younger woman's, but that did not diminish their appeal. Up close, he could smell her perfume. He did not know what it was called, but it was intoxicating. He'd never been close to perfume, except when having lap dances. Only a few sex workers let you kiss them even on the cheek, and none on—
Sue's lips were on his. It was his first kiss. Her tits nuzzled up against him. His hands found their way to her ass — oh god, did it feel good! Her lips parted, and he had his first taste of tongue, smooth, sensuous, and succulent. He knew she could feel his erection, and as if to confirm it, her hand snaked down and caressed it.
Phil stepped back and took her tits in his hands. In public! I can play with her tits in public! Would men be jealous? Would women be judgmental? He welcomed both. He squeezed her tits, feeling the hardness of the lacy material under her dress. She was smiling at him — smiling!
Could he do it? He put a hand on her thigh. Still, the same smug smile. Her leg felt so soft and smooth. He stroked her gently, sliding his hand up the dress.
How many hundreds of times had he seen girls in short skirts, girls in alluring dresses, girls with legs too gorgeous to be real? How many times had he longed to feel those legs, creep up those skirts?
Sue was wearing...was this a thong? It was hardly underwear at all, in the sense he understood it. It was just a thin, loose string over the wetness...
Over the wetness! Prostitutes have only a mild wetness, one the customer is never permitted to touch with fingers or tongue. Sue was wetter than any woman he had ever been with, and he could feel the warm liquid on his fingers.
Phil's hand jerked with excitement. He was feeling up a woman! Live on the street!
"Get a room!" someone yelled from a passing car. Sue grinned.
"Let's do it," she said. "I want to suck your cock so badly, it hurts."
Phil signalled an approaching cab.
***
1982 it was. Fall.
Phil spent every afternoon alone. Both his parents were at work. His big brother went to a different school now. He didn't come home until late, late in the evening.
Phil was hungry. He opened the freezer. He saw ice cream! Tasty. He served himself a big bowl.
It was very good. He served himself another bowl. And another.
He was still hungry. He helped himself to some buttered toast. And more. And more.
***
1983 it was. Winter.
Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, please come put a penny in the old man's hat, went the record.
"Christmas is coming, and guess who's getting fat? Ha! Ha! Ha!" Phil's older brother loved making jokes like that.
Filled with a sudden, violent rage, Phil grabbed his piggy bank and threw it at his brother. It missed him by inches and hit the wall, shattering into fragments.
Their mother, hearing the loud crashing noise, found them seconds later, staring at each other, one face appalled, the other livid. The floor was filled with broken glass and scattered coins.
Phil never forgot his mother's face, filled with rage, mottled rage, the kind that makes you cower and run to the cellar, her eyes wide open, glaring like a tiger.
"I hate you!" she screamed. "I hate you from the bottom of my heart!"
***
1985 it was. Summer.
Phil and his mother were looking at the family photo albums.
"What happened to the cute little boy I used to have?" she scolded, pointing to an earlier incarnation. "Look at you now. You're like a barrel!"
Phil put his emotions in check. He would not let her see him cry.
"You are going on a diet right now. No more excuses. And no more books for you. You should run around and play, not sit around all day reading. Go run around the block five times, or no dinner for you."
Phil arrived late to dinner, heaving and exhausted. There were glasses of orange pop for the others, but water for him. Dinner was his favourite food, spaghetti, but he was served only half a plate.
"Stop gobbling like that!" his mother scolded. "No wonder you look like a barrel."
"Why can't you chew your food?" asked his father.
Phil tried to reach for a second helping, but his mother slapped his hand away. He was not permitted dessert, which everyone else ate with relish.
At one in the morning, Phil's stomach was growling. He snuck into the kitchen and devoured half of a box of cookies his mother had hidden in the pantry.
***
Entering his hotel, Phil noticed the staff giving them knowing looks.
"They think...they think you're a prostitute," he said to Sue.
"Let them," she replied. She unzipped the dress before even stepping into the elevator. When they reached the room, she pulled off her panties and left them on the doorknob, a racy do not disturb sign.
And there she was, nude, and Phil was falling on the bed, and she was falling on top of him, and those luscious tits were on his mouth. He sucked them, they tasted so good, her scent and her hair were all around him, she was kissing him on the forehead, cradling him against her, whispering in his ears.
He'd done this before, in lap dances, but only for a few, precious minutes, with the merciless timer running, before the inevitable moment when he was asked for another twenty to go on. Sue never got tired of cradling him. She cooed at him as he suckled, stroking his hair, caressing his cheeks, nuzzling his ears.
Even for the most mature man, taking breast into mouth is fundamentally maternal. Deep memories of old feedings come back, a return to the safety and security of the earliest times on this earth. Sue felt this too. Soon she was murmuring, "suck it baby. Suck mommy's tits. Good boy." It felt right. It felt special, and close. Phil thought of his own mother. That memory sent a shiver down his spine, but now he had a comforting teat to banish the old anxieties.
When he finally let Sue go, she looked at his crotch and giggled. There was a visible wet spot on its front.
Only now did he take a good look at Sue's nude body. She didn't have the innocent, princess-like look of a girl. It was the hard, rough edge of a woman who knew her way around. Her tits were big and motherly, with deep dark aureoles. Her pubic hair was brown, even though the hair on her head was blonde. It must have been dyed.
"You know, although technically you're not a virgin, emotionally you are one, aren't you?" she asked.
"I guess so. You're the only person to come to bed with me for free."
"So if I do this right, you're going to remember this night for the rest of your life," Sue reflected. "My cunt is wet just thinking about it that way."
Phil shivered at the blatancy of the forbidden word cunt. They'd used it before online, of course, but it was another thing to hear it out loud. Sue was already thrusting her fingers into hers.
Desire touched Phil. Masseuses let you touch their pussies, but, since the man is lying down and the girl standing, he hadn't been able to explore them, just stroke the outside a bit.
He wanted to invade Sue's space, invade her body, treat her as the plaything he had always craved. "Say it out loud," Sue reminded him, guessing what he was thinking.
"I want to... to molest you," Phil said, finally settling on the right word.
"Don't worry about getting me off," said Sue. "Just take whatever you want."
"But don't I have to give you—"
"No. You don't. I'm a submissive. I take pleasure from your pleasure."
Phil was too horny and too male to dispute the point. He slid his fingers inside her, poking, probing, penetrating. She was putty in his hands. He dug deeper, curling his fingers, finding something soft and leathery.
She moaned as he stroked it.
Phil jammed his hand in harder. He put his left hand on her outer folds and pinched her clit, far from gently. He began to play with her private parts, as a boy might play with modeling clay. He squeezed her clit. She yelped. He pinched it. She screamed. Then he wiggled it between his fingers, while slicing into her cunt with his right hand.
And he had her, rolling and tossing her head, her entire body shaking. So intense was she that he felt his own erection diminishing a bit. He pulled his fingers out, dripping with liquid, his nose wrinkling a little at the smell.
Sue lay prostrate. "Holy fuck. Do you do this with your whores?"
"No, they don't let you touch their vaginas with your fingers."
"Idiots," said Sue. "Please tell me at least that they suck your cock."
"Yes, but only with a condom. It's not very comfortable either. You can feel their teeth scraping you, and they tend to suck too hard. Sometimes I feel like I'm inside a vacuum cleaner. I usually just do vaginal now."
"No vaginal for you today, buster. Today you are going to get swallowed."
"S-swallowed?"
"Did you think I was joking online or something? I meant every word."
Every word?
Phil stood up suddenly, eyeing her. His heart was pounding. He could barely even believe this was happening. He fought back the panic, the old fear that gripped him like a vice. You don't need to fear her, he told himself. She's already said yes. She means it. Sue's face reflected only calm amusement.
"S-stand in front of me," said Phil in a small voice.
She obeyed. She looked utterly desirable, like a mature porn star brought to life.
"Kiss me," he said.
She stepped forward.
"On my feet," he corrected.
Her eyes lit up. Quick as a flash she was down, groveling on the floor, pressing her lips to his socks.
"Let me pull them off for you," she volunteered.
Never had it occurred to Phil that even taking off your socks can be highly erotic, if you're with the right woman. Phil could not see what she was doing — even if his erection had not blocked his view, his belly would — but he could feel his pant leg being lifted, her nose scraping along his calves. Then he could see her, gripping his sock toes between her teeth—
"You're pulling them off like a dog," he said in surprise.
She looked up at him, eyes sparkling. "Want me to be your little bitch?"
Bitch!
He had, online, called her a slut and a whore, but had never dared say bitch. He'd never used that word even with commercial phonesex operators. It was out of the question. It was an insult, a putdown, a terrible thing to say.
Sue was quite taken with the idea. She rapidly pulled off his other sock the same way. Then she sat on her haunches, lolling out her tongue, making doglike panting sounds, even wiggling her ass back and forth as if she had a tail. Phil didn't know what to make of this. He had never met someone so utterly lacking in shame.
"Take off my clothes," was all he could say. Sensing perhaps that he wasn't quite ready for the dog act, Sue reverted to more human behaviour. She stood up and kissed him deeply on the lips, pressing her pussy against his zipper.
She unbuttoned his shirt and helped him out of it. "Is this what you've been so worried about?"
"Yes," he replied. How could he not be ashamed of his hideous body? He avoided mirrors as much as he could. Photos of him were a rarity. For as long as he could remember he'd regarded his body as something grotesque, despicable, worthy only of shame and pain.
"I think it's beautiful," said Sue. She caressed his belly gently. "Don't be ashamed of who you are, of what you are."
"But the porn I look at, the women I stare at, they're all thin and gorgeous. You're thin and gorgeous."
"That's okay," said Sue. She started kissing his belly, digging into it. "You want what you want, and you have what you have. Nobody said they had to be the same."
"Yes, they did. Isn't it hypocritical—"
"Shh," said Sue. "You worry too much about what's right and wrong, and too little about what you feel, and what you want. I know what I want — to suck your cock. I will be quite upset, at this point, if I don't get to."
She knelt and licked the front of his pants, then fumbled with his button and zipper, slowly pulling off the last of his clothes.
Phil was shaking, trembling, erection wilting. Sue tried to think back to what it had been like to lose her virginity, over a quarter century ago. Then she tried to imagine what it would be like to do this having led the life Phil had led.
"I think you need to lie down," she said.
She lay down beside him and started licking his chest. "I love your chest. I can suck on your chest just like you can suck on mine," she said. Fat is more pliable, more manipulable than muscle, and it can be sucked on, not just licked. Phil felt a hot spot spread under her tongue. His cock was lying comfortably between her breasts. He put his arms around her head and stroked her hair.
"You don't need to worry," she soothed. "Mommy is here. Mommy will take care of you." Somehow, these were the right words to pierce through Phil's wall of anxiety. Her tongue felt so relaxing, it was like a balm of peace, bringing release and softness wherever it went. She kissed and nuzzled him on the parts of the body he had long been most ashamed of, most repulsed by: his belly, his sides, his navel. She even took the trouble of licking his waist, the embarrassingly remote region that lay under the overhang of his belly.
"God, your cock is gorgeous," she said.
"Mine?"
"Yes, yours. It's just the right size. Not too big, and not too small. I can get the whole thing in my mouth, easy. And it's the right color. Your brown skin is so beautiful, so rich and textured. Not too dark, not too light. Not a hint of pink in it, I never like seeing pink men."
Phil's cock jerked at the praise.
"And," added Sue, laughing, "white cum contrasts so much better on darker skin!" She kissed the tip of his cock.
Now Phil was bulging, straining with anticipation. He wanted to grab her head and impale her on his rod. But he restrained himself. He had only one load to shoot, and he wanted as much pleasure as she could give before he fired.
Sue's tongue teased him, tantalized him, brought out long-buried feelings and surfaced them into a paradise he had never felt before. She spread his legs apart and went for his groin. The feeling of her wet tongue was like a strong drink, a soothing warmth that permeated him, excited him, filled him with a hunger for more. Her tongue was on his balls. Phil felt himself losing coherence, babbling, giggling.
He began calling her names, those words that had such emotional power. Slut. Whore. Bitch. They were not just words of sexuality, they were words of rebellion. Words no decent man would say, no decent woman would want to hear. But neither of them were decent. They were being indecent, obscene. Sue was licking his balls, and, in contemptuously final dismissal of moralistic feminism, she was enjoying it as much as he.
"You're not going to last long, are you?"
"No," Phil panted. His jerking cock tapped Sue's nose.
"Good." Sue stuck out her tongue and drew it along the tender underside of his cock, the epicentre of male sexuality. This is where fingers went to masturbate, a tiny ridge of passion. Sue flicked it like a banjo, sending surges of feeling up and down Phil's body. He could endure no more. He grabbed her head and pushed it onto his cock. His hips thrust into her.
I'm in her mouth, he thought savagely, frenziedly. This whore has me in her mouth. Her magic tongue was sending nuclear fire through him. One thought alone burned into his brain. She's going to swallow—swallow—
and then—
He had done it. He had cum on a woman's tongue, for the first time in his life. Had he been too rough? Had he hurt her?
She was slithering up his body, a definite smirk on her face. She opened her mouth. He saw his essence lying there. She swallowed it.
His eyes widened, too deeply moved for words. She took him in her arms, holding him against her breasts.
"Was that," she asked, "everything you hoped it would be?"
"Everything," he said. He held onto her tightly. "Thank you so much. I'll never forget this, as long as I live."
She smiled. "How long are you here?"
"I leave on Saturday." It was Monday night.
"We don't have much time," she replied, making another lunge for his cock.
Phil had to block her.
"I can't."
"You can't cum more than once? Damn."
She decided not to mention that Keith had easily been able to do it, at least when he was Phil's age. "How long before you'd be up for another round?"
"Tomorrow morning?"
Sue looked at him thoughtfully. "I think we could work that out. Meet me at my office." She walked to the desk and wrote an address on the writing pad.
Phil didn't want her to leave, but she was a married woman and there were limits to how late she could stay. He stared at her body as she dressed.
"I had a wonderful time, sweetie." She kissed him. "You be a good boy now." She pinched his cheek before leaving.
Phil tried to take stock of his emotions. How often he had longed for his mother to call him a good boy when he was little, but he was past that now. Or was he?
Still, he had a feeling of warmth and contentment inside, quite a contrast to the feelings of abandonment and isolation he often felt after paid sex. His heart and cock felt deeply, warmly satisfied, and yet at the same time hungry for more. He was still naked, still wet, still pondering these thoughts, when he fell asleep.
Chapter 3
1983 it was. Fall.
Sue was ready at last. It had been a long time for her, over six months. Never since her early teens had she gone for so long without it, so great was the trauma she'd been through.
And this man, this proud and tall man, this pillar of the community, respected and liked by all, had been her rock. He had been what she scarcely deserved.
Now she was in bed with him, and she would give him everything he deserved. She was wet with anticipation.
His body, muscular and powerful, titillated her senses. She could not stop caressing it, fondling it, kissing it, licking it. She bathed him with her tongue, each of his moans music to her ears. The further down she descended, the more excited she got. He was a god. His chest made her tingle, his belly made her quiver.
Then she came to his cock. She could not see it in the dark, but it tantalized her. She paused for a moment, admiring its length and girth, breathing in that intoxicating scent.
She opened her mouth and began to take it in—
"What are you doing?" Keith asked sharply.
"I'm sucking your cock, baby," she replied, then dove back on him.
He pushed her away. "Stop it!"
Sue's mind was reeling. What was happening? What had she done wrong?
"You don't love me?" she asked, confused. Of course he didn't love her. Nobody loved her.
"Of course I love you," he replied. "That's why I can't let you do this."
"I don't understand," she pleaded, her heart melting. "Don't you want me to suck your cock?"
"Of course not," he said. "Why would I do that to you?"
Nobody had ever refused her sucking their cock before. No one.
"I don't understand," she repeated. "I...I love you. I want to suck your cock."
"Sue," he said gently, "don't you realize that this is the problem? You've acted like a whore for so long that people treat you like one. Your body is your temple. It's made in the image of God. Use it for the purposes it was intended. Your mouth is for smiling, and talking, and laughing, and singing. Not for sex."
