“One,” I whispered sharply into her ear.
Repeating the process, I began to tease her.
“All the way in…all the way out. Two.”
“All the way in, oh my God, Kelli, you’re so wet. You feel that?”
“Yes. Yes…” She pressed her ass toward me, pushing her clit harder against my knuckles.
“All the way out. Three,” I said as the tip of my finger cleared her wet lips.
“In. Out. Four. In, and out. Five. In, and out. Six. Halfway there, Baby Girl. We’re half way there,” I said, pressing my elbow against her back, pulling her hair slightly tighter.
“In…who owns you, Baby Girl?” I asked, pressing my finger inside of her, and holding it there.
“Who? Who owns you?” I repeated, whispering in her ear.
“You, sir. Oh God, you do,” she answered, getting louder as she answered.
“That’s right, you…are…mine. Seven,” I said as I slid my finger out.
As I pressed my finger inside of her again, I released her hair and slid my hand to her neck, cupping my palm around her clavicle, and began squeezing her lower neck with my thumb and fingers. As I slid my finger out, I squeezed her neck a little more.
“Eight, Kelli. I want you to cum. Cum now.”
“Oh God. Oh God, Erik. Ok,” she said in short choppy breaths.
As I squeezed her neck steadily, I began to quickly slide my finger in and out, as fast as I could. She was wet enough that her inner thighs were covered in her wetness. My finger slid in and out with ease.
“Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Cum, Kelli, cum for me. Fourteen. Cum. Fifteen. Cum, you sexy little bitch, cum. Sixteen. Cum. For. Me,”
She began to contract and her knees locked. As they did, I began to slide my finger in and out as quickly as I could, being careful not to allow it to slide all the way out. As she began to moan, I buried my finger deeply into her, and pressed my knuckles into her clit. Rotating my hand back and forth, massaging her clit, her body shuddered.
“Oh fuck, Erik. Oh. My. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck,” she said loudly as she pulled herself away from my hand.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” she asked, turning to face me.
Grasping the inner portion of her shorts, she tried to reposition them, as if she felt exposed. Her entire body shook in an exaggerated fashion, and she bent her knees.
“What the fuck?” she said again, still standing directly in front of me, looking down at me admiringly. She smiled lightly, her lips pursed.
“Is there a problem, Kelli?” I asked.
“I’m weak for you,” she answered, and then continued, “You make me cum so hard, so easily. It’s like you have some way to crawl into my mind. I both love you and hate you for it.”
“Oh really,” I responded.
“Oh, God. I didn’t mean that. The love part. You know what I meant,” she apologized.
“You’re fine, Kelli. I know what you mean,” I responded, nodding my head.
She went back to her seat and sat down. As she reached for her purse, her hands were clearly shaking. I debated whether or not to mention it. I decided there was nothing to lose in doing so, and I brought it up.
“Your hands, they’re shaking,” I stated, pointing to her outstretched arm.
“Yours would be shaking, too. If I were you, and you were me, you’d shake. I guarantee it. You do something to me, Erik. Something no one else has ever done, and probably never will do. You told me you were going to ruin me. Well, congratulations, I am officially ruined. Smelling you makes me wet. Seeing you makes my heart race. Having you touch me, touch me anywhere…makes me shiver. Having you bring me to orgasm makes me shake. The aftermath of an orgasm with you, the post-coital state…is beyond any other orgasm I have ever had. Ever. Just the aftershock,” she tossed her purse in the center of the table and held her hand out, palm down, arm outstretched.
Her hand was clearly shaking. She attempted for a few seconds to hold it still as it continued to shake. Laughing, she pulled her hand back and placed in in her lap. I admired the color of her hair, almost blue-black. The color of her hair suited her so well. Straight and black, very healthy looking. The color complimented her skin tone, and her skin complimented her hair; a perfect match. Lost in admiration of her gorgeous natural features, I realized she was speaking.
“…and then I want you to pull it out and bend me over. So, what do you think?” she said
“Excuse me?” I asked, only hearing a portion of what she had said.
“You want me to repeat it?” she asked, looking puzzled.
“I’m sorry, Baby Girl, I didn’t hear you,” I offered as I crossed my legs, and leaned forward.
Smiling, she began to speak again. “I love it when you call me that. How could anyone ever get sick of you? Ok. What I said was this. I want to suck your cock. I want you to put your hands on my throat, and squeeze it. I want you to fuck my mouth until my eyes water. And then I want you to pull your cock out of my mouth, and bend me over and fuck me. Ragged. Fuck me ragged Erik,” she said, leaning closer to me as she spoke.
“You said all of that?”
“No, I added to it. I want you to let me suck your cock. We’ll start there. That’s a good beginning. I want your big cock in my mouth, Erik; let me suck it.”
“Damn, Kelli. You’re wound up, aren’t you?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You just finger fucked me into a coma while I was bent over a table in a public outdoor restaurant -- while people walked by on the sidewalk. I felt like that orgasm was extracted from my chest, went through my soul, and exited out of my pussy, Erik. Have you ever had an orgasm like that? I fucking doubt it. I like fucking you, and I fucking like you. Make note of that. Put it in your Outlook in that outdated Blackberry you carry. Make a permanent note of it, Kelli likes fucking me.”
“You’re a mouthy little fucker, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry, I was just kidding, don’t get mad at me,” she said apologetically.
“Not at all, actually, I like it. That’s different, and a turn-on, Kelli. Good work,” I said, waving my hand toward her, palm up.
As she started to speak, the waiter approached with our food.
“Two Cobb salads?” he asked, holding a salad in each hand.
“Yes, can we get those boxed to go, please? We have had an emergency come up,” I said, as I winked at Kelli.
“I’m sorry for the delay, sir. Normally we’re quicker. It’s just, well…we just opened, it’s early,” the waiter apologized.
“No concerns, just box them to go, and bring the check please. We have just had an emergency,” I said in a friendly tone.
As the waiter walked away, Kelli looked at me, smiling. There were so many things about her that separated her from the other women that I had ever exposed myself to - her naturally gorgeous looks, for one. She was stunningly beautiful just being herself. No make-up, no special presentation. Just being her natural self, she was breathtaking. Her naturally submissive attitude, personality, and demeanor certainly were a breath of fresh air to me. Not having to train someone to be or act as I preferred them was quite a comfort. There was no worry about her reverting back to who she was by nature. Naturally, this was Kelli. Take her or leave her.
“Where are we going?” Kelli asked as the waiter walked away.
“To the mall, Kelli, we’re going to the mall,” I responded, smiling.
Chapter 12
KELLI. I can’t really say for sure when I became sexually active. I know in the summer of my eighth grade year, I began to figure out how to perform orally on a guy. My first was Billy Benton, in the summer before freshman year. Having him show immediate pleasure from what I was doing, watching his eyes roll back into his head while he was in my mouth…it was pure heaven. For the first time in my life I knew, for certain, that something I was doing that I was in charge of, was making someone so happy that they reached climax. It had absolutely nothing to do with them, and it
had everything to do with me. I was one hundred percent in charge of making that person happy. And happy I made them. Billy came in my mouth after about a minute. Starting that summer, I sucked every guy off that I could.
The next summer was a revelation. A few weeks before my sophomore year, I met a man at the convenience store. He never told me his age. I was fifteen. I lied and told him I was eighteen. I really doubt that he believed me, but we left together. I was driving on a restricted license at the time and was supposed to be traveling to and from school only. My father had provided me, through high school, with a fairly new BMW from the dealership to drive. My early development of boobs, dyed hair, tan skin from the summer, and the car may have convinced the guy that I was eighteen.
I followed him home, and we went into his apartment. He demanded sex, but neither of us had protection. At the time, I had never had sex with anyone, just oral. I acted like I had been active with sex, and he believed me. I told him if he let me suck him off, I would come back later for sex. I remember feeling if I could make him cum by sucking him off that it would be some form of confirmation that I was truly good at what I was doing with all of the other guys my age.
He stood in front of me in the apartment, and I got down on my knees. He unzipped his pants, and pulled out his dick. It was huge. When he first pulled it out, it wasn’t hard, but when I reached for it, I realized it was the size of my wrist. I started sucking it, and it immediately got hard in my mouth.
He had a tattoo on his wrist, “Kate”.
The carpet smelled like the basement in Heather’s house, where it always flooded. I tried not to smell the carpet and closed my eyes. As he got hard, I pulled my mouth away from his dick and looked at it. I was kind of looking at it to admire it. I had never seen anything like it before. When I did, he grabbed my head and forced it into my mouth, shoving it all the way into the back of my throat.
He started talking loud, nearly screaming, and called me a little whore. He pressed himself against me, trying to force me to gag. It was at this time that I realized that I had no gag reflex. I thought he wanted me to gag, so I would cough a little bit, but I did not need to. When I coughed, he would say, “That’s it, choke you little whore”. The choking appeared to turn him on, so I continued to do it. Within a few minutes, he came. After he did, he walked to the bathroom. I got up and looked at my knees. They were covered in blood. I looked at the bathroom, and saw that the door was closed. I could hear the fan running.
I grabbed my purse, and let myself out quietly. I got into my car and drove home, excited, scared, and bloody. The scabs on my knees lasted for a month, primarily because I couldn’t stay off of them. When I found out that I had no gag reflex, and that I could please a grown man, all I wanted to do was be an oral companion to anyone that wanted me to.
Pleasing men pleased me. It was simple. Pleasing the boys in my class was easy; it took no effort, and no skill to speak of. Pleasing a man was a different story. If I could please a man, it was an accomplishment. To please someone with experience by my performance made me happier than Christmas morning. Happier than my birthday. Happier than winning at track or basketball. Pleasing a man made me happy, especially if he was married and disappointed with his wife. When he came in my mouth, I felt like I had truly accomplished something.
I never told anyone about the men that I pleased through my high school years. All of the boys in school shared stories about me, but I didn’t really care. No one could claim that I was having sex with them, because I was not. I was just sucking them off. The more practice I got, the better I became. I watched porn, developed different techniques, and tried them on guys, seeing which one worked best. By my junior year, and through my senior year, I would secretly look at my watch, and see how long it took for the guy to come. If I could make him cum quickly, it was as if I were receiving an added prize.
To me, there was nothing that was more satisfying than knowing that I alone could make a guy cum in a matter of a few minutes. Just my mouth, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
It was never all that I wanted to do. Later, I did yearn for sex, but I always had to know. I always had to know that I could make each guy cum, and that I could do it quickly. It made me feel like I went from wondering if they were happy to knowing that they were. That confirmation, to me, was extremely important.
Now a college graduate and an adult, I felt like my oral skills were my best asset. Too bad there wasn’t a spot on a Driver’s License for our assets.
Height: 70”
Weight: 121
Eye color: Hazel
Birthdate: 1/13/1990
Best asset: No gag reflex
I would never make it into the bar, if that were the case. The person checking IDs at the door would always want to take me into the parking lot and test me out. My talent was something that I now held in reserve. I didn’t brag about it to everyone that came along, like I did in high school. Now, I just preferred to let a guy be surprised by it and see if they brought it up – after they experienced it, gasped when I did it, or just kept quiet and acted like it was normal.
We had left Erik’s motorcycle at the parking lot for the Italian place and were driving my car to the mall. He wanted to get me a pair of jeans to wear on the motorcycle because he was uncomfortable with me wearing shorts. I have seen plenty of girls on the back of motorcycles in shorts, but he said I would burn my leg on the exhaust for sure.
I parked the car by the Dillard’s entrance to the mall. I always liked to go in through Dillard’s regardless of what I was shopping for, even if I was just going to get yogurt, a drink, or to eat. Walking through the store made me feel luxurious and important. Erik got out, and I walked to his side, and slid my arm through his left arm. It was nice, kind of like holding hands, but we were holding arms.
“You didn’t even have to say anything,” I said as we were walking.
“About?” he said as he turned and looked at me.
“I remembered to get ahold of your left arm,” I answered, disappointed that he didn’t realize what I was talking about.
“I know, Baby Girl. You make me happy. You really do,” he smiled as he said it. When he was done, he winked at me.
When he talked to me like that, it just gave me goose bumps. I felt them rising on my arms and legs and hoped that he didn’t notice. As we walked, I studied his feet, and tried to mimic his walking pattern, so we would have the same pace. I always felt, even though I was tall, that I was falling behind. I decided, as we walked, that he took considerably longer steps. His stride was one and a half of mine. As we approached the entrance, I gave up.
“What the fuck were you doing?” he asked, as he held the door open for me.
“When?”
“While we were walking up here. I felt like I was dragging you,” he responded.
I walked through the first door and into the foyer of the store. As I did, I turned around, smiling, and answered Erik.
“I was trying to keep up, and I started watching you walk, and I think I may have gotten wrapped up in watching your feet and your stride. I think I forgot what was going on, I don’t know.” I stood and looked into his eyes, feeling stupid.
I don’t really know for sure how it happened, but it did. I will never forget how it ended, though. All of a sudden, I was pressed into the corner of the foyer, my back against the wall. His chest was pressed against mine, and both his hands held the backs of my thighs, under the cheeks of my butt. I was completely off the floor, being held up by his strong arms. His chest and arm muscles bulged as he lifted me higher, getting my head several inches above his.
“Look at me, Baby Girl,” he said as he held me above him, my back pressed hard to the wall.
I looked down into his eyes, and although he wasn’t smiling, his eyes were. They looked different. They looked happy. His lips met mine, and we began to kiss. I closed my eyes. One hand slid to the back of my neck, holding my head as he kissed me. He suspended me against the wall
with his other arm and the pressure of his body against mine. We kissed for a long while, and as we did, I could feel the pressure in the vestibule change as people came in and out. I do not know if we kissed for three minutes or thirty, but I knew this; it was the kind of kiss that romance novels are written about. A kiss to define kisses. If I were standing, I would have collapsed. As our lips parted, we both caught our breath. His tongue lightly licked my upper lip as we separated. Immediately, we started again, his hips pressing me against the wall. My legs wrapped around his waist, I pressed harder against him, bucking my hips against his torso as we kissed. Pulling his mouth from mine and lowering me to the floor slowly, he looked into my eyes.
“You are fucking adorable, Kelli. Just fucking adorable.”
Catching my breath and composure, I tried to hold myself up as he let me down onto the floor. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else. I pushed myself against the wall and tried to stand on my own.
“Oh my fuck. Knees,” I said. I realized right after I said it that it made zero sense.
As he held the second door open into the store, he looked at me and smiled.
“Precisely,” he said.
I had no idea what exactly I did to make myself adorable in his eyes at that moment. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to seem girlish or immature. I decided to keep to myself and just assume that I was adorable all the time, and that this time he was just overwhelmed. My father once gave me some good advice; never miss a good opportunity to keep your fucking mouth shut. This was one of those times. Walking through the door, I felt lighter. I felt like I was floating above the tile floor, like I was still suspended above the floor by his strong arms.
Ruined. Yeah, I suppose so.
I realized something in that vestibule during the kiss. I was weak for this man. Weak beyond what I have ever known to exist. My degree of being powerless for him left me open, exposed, and able to be harmed. With Erik, it wasn’t whether or not he was going to eventually leave me; it was only a matter of when. At some point in time, he would leave. I walked beside him in somewhat of a trance, lost in thought. I knew that I could live without him, no doubt about it. But after having had him in my life, I would look at everyone else that I would ever meet as some form of substandard human being. No one, regardless of whoever I encountered in life, would measure up to the standard that he had set.
FEELS LIKE THE FIRST TIME Page 85