Gorgeous Bastard

by Stella Blaze

  I heard her voice in my head again.

  I’m not stupid.

  No, I was the stupid one. I had to make it up to her.

  Flowers?

  Wine?

  Season tickets to the Charlotte Hornets?

  Whatever I was going to do, I needed to think of it fast. She’d be coming home sooner or later… and I wanted her here, in my arms… in my bed, sooner than later.

  I got an idea. A memory from back when we were just a family out on a Sunday, driving around.

  I got up, got showered and made a beeline for the door. I had something smooth and sweet to find, and not a ton of time. And I needed to compose an apology.

  I shook the pathetic out of my head.

  Maybe I’d just kiss the shit out of her until she forgave me.

  Chapter 30

  Cali

  By the time I got off work I realized I’d really screwed up.

  I mean, I royally screwed up.

  Joshua was right. I needed to keep us secret.

  And that meant from everyone. Friends, strangers, patients, and most importantly from mom and dad.

  Mom would freak out seven ways ‘til Sunday. Paul, well, he’s always been great. Calm, cool, collected.

  He’d understand.

  Maybe.

  But maybe wasn’t good enough.

  About a mile from work I ran into gridlock traffic.

  Nothing like moving forward five feet every ten minutes to make a girl think too much.

  I needed to do something special for Joshua.

  But what?

  I’d already beaten him at basketball. And though he’d seemed to get off on it, I didn’t think he’d take it quite the same way after what we’d said to each other.

  I looked ahead of me and saw a huge billboard with an ad for Vince’s Hot Dog Shoppe.

  I suddenly had a flash back to trying—and failing—to give Joshua a proper blowjob.

  I looked down at my phone and pondered who—if anyone—to call.

  My circle of friends has always been limited to the girls I played ball with. Almost exclusively.

  There were the girls I’d played ball with for two years here in town, the girls I’d played with in Charlotte the last two years, and now the girls at Chapel Hill.

  I picked up my phone and scrolled down my numbers until a name practically reached out and slapped me.

  Yolanda Riviera.

  She was half African-American, half Latin, one hundred percent in charge.

  She was the captain of the Chapel Hill Tar Heels.

  And she talked endlessly about her conquests, on and off the basketball court.

  I clicked on her number and tapped out a text.

  [Hey there Yolanda.]

  A couple minutes went by and I started to think she wouldn’t text back.

  But then my phone rang. She was calling me back.

  “Hi Yolanda.”

  “Is this that skinny little blonde girl who keeps letting Coach Pratt intimidate her?”

  I said she was blunt.

  “That’s me.” I took a deep breath and tried to push all that shit about the new coach and how he treated me out of my mind. “But that’s not what I called about.”

  “Too bad,” she chuckled. “Because you know I’d never let him talk to me the way he talks to you.”

  “But you’re you, and I’m…” Damn it to hell. “I need pointers on giving good head!”

  A couple of my fellow grid locked drivers looked over at me.

  I’d really just screamed that, hadn’t I?

  “My, my, my…” Yolanda sang, “Little Miss Tightly-Wound has cock on the brain.” She laughed one of those perfect laughs that comes up like a bubble in tar and erupts with a single, musical pop.

  I closed my eyes, sank down in my seat until I was pretty sure no one could see me anymore, and said, “I tried doing it last night, but I couldn’t get more than…” Dear lord this was embarrassing.

  “Spit it out, sugar lump,” she crooned. “What was it you couldn’t get more than…”

  She waited, not making a sound… not even breathing sounds.

  “I… I couldn’t get more than the head in my mouth before I started choking.”

  There, I’d said it.

  I also felt like everyone within a mile was watching me, staring, listening to me say “head.”

  “Oh… well, I’m more of a receiver of the oral sex than the giver. I guess I gotta be on top for everything.”

  “Oh…” I said, discouraged. I didn’t think I had the courage to call anyone else in my contacts. It would be too humiliating.

  Would I have call the most submissive girls I knew to find a master of fellatio?

  And then Yolanda said, “But I know a guy.”

  I blinked. “A guy?”

  “Yeah,” Yolanda said. “Roger… he’s my best gay, and the Captain of Temple University’s Basketball team.”

  “He’s an Owl?” I guess I sounded kind of stunned.

  “Hey,” Yolanda said blunt as a sledgehammer, “He’s one of the best players I’ve ever seen, and a natural born leader. Plus he can suck the chrome off the tailpipe of a ’57 Mustang.”

  Oh…

  So I was going to get fellatio lessons from the gay captain of the Temple University Owls… this couldn’t get any bizarre.

  “Give me a second,” Yolanda said, and then I heard a phone ringing.

  “Are you calling someone else?”

  “Yeah, sweet cheeks, you’re gonna have your first three-way… three way call that is.” And she snorted.

  “Hello?” came a dark, metallic rough voice.

  “Yo Roger! It’s Yolanda.”

  “Hey Yo. What’s up? You changing your bet on the Knick’s game?”

  “Hell no,” chuckled Yolanda, “Oakland is going to bust their asses… make ‘em their bitches. No, I need some of your extraordinary advice on giving head.”

  There was that word again.

  I sank lower in my seat.

  The car in front of me moved up a foot. I nudge my car forward.

  “I told you you’d find a man worth blowing one day! What’s his name and how big is he?” Roger said it all in that gruff, rough voice, so casually.

  Maybe I really was Miss Tightly-Wound.

  “It ain’t for me, Roger… you know I don’t throw down like that. It’s for my friend, the former virgin, Miss Cali Winters.”

  Oh god, she told him my name… and that I wasn’t a virgin anymore.

  Wow… I really wasn’t a virgin anymore.

  Wow…

  “Hey Cali, say hello to Roger.”

  Is this what they mean by being thrown under the bus?

  “Um… hi, Roger.”

  They both burst out laughing.

  “That’s adorable,” he sighed, his laughter abating.

  “I know,” Yolanda said, and then snorted again. “She was a virgin yesterday, and now she wants to become a suck-job master. So I thought of you immediately.” They both laughed again. “I mean, there is no one that knows their way around a cock like you.”

  “True story. You, Little Miss Tightly-Wound Cali Winters,”—and he remembered my name, and nickname, first time out. Nice.—“Came to the right man. Where are you?”

  “What?” I sounded like a scared little twit.

  “I mean, are you home? At your grandma’s?”

  “In my car, on I-40 West, in gridlock traffic.”

  “Okay, then. Take the first exit you come to and find a convenience store that sells popsicles. Do you have some Chloraseptic Spray at home?”

  I frowned. “I think there’s some in my parents’ medicine cabinet.”

  “Great, but you won’t need that until the big event. But the popsicles are for practice.”

  Traffic magically moved up and parted, revealing an exit for me. “You want me to practice blowing a popsicle… in public?”

  “Well, if you think you can make it home before I have to le
ave for my grandma’s birthday party in thirty minutes, then we can hold off. But if you can’t, I suggest you get over your shyness and get moving.”

  “He’s worth it,” Yolanda volunteered. “He’s helped like a dozen of my friends learn to give amazing head.” She snorted again. I’d never heard her laugh as much as she was with me. “One girl got accused of being a prostitute after she blew her fella.”

  “That was a proud moment,” Roger said, dead pan. “But we’re going to have to do this on FaceTime. And I need a couple props.”

  Chapter 31

  I ran into the 7-11 and searched frantically for some popsicles. I grabbed them, raced up to the register and bought them, my face burning with embarrassment. You’d think I had a pack of condoms and some KY lube.

  It had taken five whole minutes to maneuver through to the exit, and then another couple of minutes to park and grab my purse. Add to that the four minutes my mad dash through the 7-11 had cost me, and I was down to less than twenty minutes.

  Could I really learn to give amazing head in less than twenty minutes?

  Over the phone?

  The 7-11 parking lot was pretty much deserted, so I pulled one out of the box of twelve—red white and blue bomb pops—with one hand, and held my smart-phone up with the other.

  Roger was a stone fox.

  Dark hair, dark eyes, a classic roman profile, and tattoos running up his shoulder from his arm. I wondered if his arm was sleeved in the metallic looking loops and swirls.

  “I got them…” Pant, pant, “now what?”

  “You’re gonna suck on it… what else?”

  I felt myself flush.

  “Look, sadly that thing is about the size of the average male genitalia.”

  I looked at it and scowled. “Really? Jo—I mean, his is a lot bigger.”

  “Well congratulations, you picked a good one. Now back to the popsicle. Start sucking it into your mouth, and push it back in there as far as it will go.”

  I unsheathed the icy treat and did as I was told. It was surprisingly easy… until it hit the back of my throat. Then that gag reflex kicked in and I had to pull it out.

  I looked at the now shiny red, white, and blue ice pop and couldn’t believe I couldn’t even suck down something that small.

  “Harder than it looks, isn’t it?” Roger said, his raspy voice kind of hypnotic. “Now this time, try and keep the thing in there, really let it rub against and then past where your gag reflex is.”

  I so hoped I wouldn’t throw-up. Not in my car, or on the asphalt of the 7-11 parking lot.

  I gave the parking lot another look-see, and then went at it with the popsicle again. This time I went real slow, already afraid of that gag reflex… but when the icy treat touched it, I didn’t gag. I held it there, and then started to move it around until it slipped on past whatever caused the gag reflex.

  “That’s it,” Roger praised. “Now pull it out and do it again.”

  The popsicle was getting thinner by now, and it was much easier to push it back in my throat.

  Thank god I really loved the red, white, and blue bomb pops.

  But I didn’t think I’d be able to look at them the same way ever again.

  I had a confusing moment where I imagined Joshua naked, but instead of his enormous hard cock sticking up from between his legs, there was a gargantuan red white and blue bomb pop sticking out from his crotch, looking ready for take-off.

  “Hey, Yolanda, I think we lost her!”

  I blinked and looked down at the screen of my iPhone. Roger and Yolanda had gone split screen on me.

  “Sorry. Where were we?”

  Roger reached over and pulled something out from beyond the camera’s view. He stabbed it onto the table in front of him, and when his hand left it, it still stood there, suction-cupped to the table. It was a towering clear, purple dildo with little gold flakes making it shimmer as it slowly stopped jiggling.

  Now that was more the size Joshua was.

  “How am I ever going to be able to do something that big?” I asked.

  “The same way a concert pianist makes it to Carnegie Hall. Practice, practice, practice!”

  Well, sure… that made sense.

  “And don’t worry, your fella won’t mind you practicing on him. Believe me. Even bad head is better than no head.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, that makes me feel so much better.”

  Roger snickered. “Okay, I’ve got five more minutes. Now that you know you can touch something to the back of your throat and you’re not automatically going to puke, you just have to play around with that and hone your skills.

  “I’m going to show you some techniques here that will help.”

  He scooted up until his face was right above the shiny purple dildo.

  Oh no, he wasn’t…

  “First, gently grasp the penis at the base, like so.” He reached his big, calloused hand out and grasped the thing around the base. “Be careful not to scratch or bite the penis. Because a wound of any sort is far more difficult to heal on a penis.”

  My brows furrowed. “Why’s that?”

  “Because that thing gets hard and soft all the time. Especially at night. So any healing that might have happened gets stretched out and re-tears, usually just making things worse.”

  I nodded. “Check, no biting or scratching the penis.”

  Was I really discussing penis post-injury care with a gay collegiate basketball captain?

  “Warm up your lips like this.” He puckered up like he was going to kiss someone, and then he started moving his puckered mouth around left, right, up, down, and then around and round.

  I think I’d seen this technique in movies about acting classes, and on a Facercise YouTube video my mom started doing a year or so ago.

  Then Roger stuck out his tongue and waggled it around a bit.

  “Really, Roger… do you really have to do that?” Yolanda complained. “I’ve seen your tongue in action before. Remember Remy Martin, the star forward for Louisville?”

  Roger’s expression turned wistful. “Best tasting Cardinal ever…”

  He shook his head and smiled. “Next, try and build up some saliva in your mouth. You want your first suck to be very wet.” He licked his lips and gazed down at the big purple phallus with real hunger in his eyes. “Start out with some licking if you like.” He leaned forward and licked up and down on the dildo’s shaft, his tongue going from long, dog like lapping to a deft flick, kind of like a tongue whip.

  I suddenly wondered where the phrase tongue lashing originated.

  “But,” Roger said as he leaned back from his task for a beat. “For my money, the best part of a suck-job is the sucking.”

  He licked his lips again and slowly leaned in toward the dildo. “Don’t forget to sheath your teeth,” he said. “That goes back to no biting or scratching.”

  He demonstrated a partial smile while covering his teeth with his lips—reminded me of when people mimic having no teeth.

  And then he did it. I watched in horror filled fascination as he lowered his mouth onto the enormous purple phallus, taking it into his mouth, and then further, and further… until his lips were all the way to the bottom.

  Wow…

  He must really practice A LOT.

  He came up halfway and then went back down, repeated that move a few times, and then came all the way up to the head and did a half-suck, half-tongue-lashing thing.

  He was truly a blowjob master.

  He sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Did you see what I did to the head there? I flourished my tongue over the sensitive flesh of the cockhead. That will drive a guy wild.”

  He grabbed the phallus by the base again. “But since you’re a beginner, here’s a trick to get past the not-deep-throating thing. While you’re sucking, forget being lady-like, and drool. Let that drool flow, and as it slides down his shaft…” He stroked his hand up and down the shaft of the dildo, and then lowered his mouth
onto the head again, demonstrating what he’d just explained.

  It looked complicated… but it also looked a lot easier than trying to cram all of Joshua’s cock down my throat.

  But I was going to learn to do both. I wanted to please Joshua as much as humanly possible. Plus I really wanted all of him in my mouth.

  He came up and breathed heavily. “If he’s really big, at some point his cock will cut off your air supply. Just remember to breathe through you nose on the way up. But if he’s on top, face fucking you, don’t be shy. Let him know he’s suffocating you.”

  And just when I thought I couldn’t be anymore embarrassed…

  Roger pulled the dildo up from the table, making a popping sound.

  “You see this?” he asked, pointing the head of the purple dildo at the camera. He was pointing his fingers at the small faux opening at the top of the phallus.

  “Yes.”

  “That there’s the piss slit. I’m sure there’s a fancier name for it, but that’s what I call it. Dig your tongue in there for added stimulation.” He flipped the dildo over and shoved the large purple balls into the camera. “And these are the balls: testies, testicles, the boys, family jewels—whatever you wanna call them. These babies are SENSITIVE. Be gentle at all times… unless your fella’s into BDSM.”

  “B what?”

  “B&D is bondage and discipline. S&M means sadomasochism: meaning getting off on inflicting and/or receiving pain. The sadist likes inflicting, the masochist likes to receive. It can also mean dominance and submission… and tying people up. The two work hand in hand pretty well.”

  Is there anything kinky this guy doesn’t know about?

  Roger checked his watch. “A couple minutes left, so… about the balls.” He shoved them into the camera again. “Lick them, suck them, massage them lightly. Just don’t get carried away because if you hit them the wrong way, or twist them, it’ll hurt like a mother.”

  I sat there in silence as all that he’d just told me melted into my brain. Because whether I liked it or not, I was going to remember everything he’d said… and everything he’d done.

  Forever…

  “Oh, and there’s a trick for dulling the gag reflex altogether, besides some Chloraseptic sprayed in the back of your throat. Just make your left hand into a fist, with your thumb inside, and squeeze. It’s some sort of pressure point thing.”