“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.
KELLI. I can’ 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 lulled 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 my throat.
He started talking loud and screaming, calling 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 have someone with experience be pleased with 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 argue 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, and got 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.
There was nothing, to me, 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 I wanted to do, and I did, later, 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 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 ID 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, which should be open by the time we get there. He wanted to get me a pair of jeans to wear on the motorcycle, and 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 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 ha
ve 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 be at 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 got to 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 foyer of the store. As I did, I turned around, smiling, and answered Erik.
“I was trying to keep up, and I got to watching you walk, and I think I may have got 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 now 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 lips 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 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, and 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 a matter of when. At some point in time, he would leave. I walked beside him in somewhat of a trance, thinking. 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, could measure up to the standard that he had set.
Life is interesting in many respects. I’ve spent my life trying not to become attached to anyone that I have had sex with. My initial expectations with Erik were the same. I suppose a person never knows how they are going to feel until the time comes, but I had no anticipation of this happening. Now that it had happened, I had to deal with it. Live a life without Erik, disappointed and knowing what it was like to feel whatever it is that I feel with him, or be with Erik.
Being with Erik was impossible. He made it clear that he wasn’t interested in being in a relationship, ever. My school was to start in September, which was about six weeks away. Why, I wonder, does God remove the things from our lives that may make us live a happy, fruitful, joyous life? I never felt like it mattered so much before, but I never felt like this about someone, either. I didn’t really feel this way about him, as if it were a decision I had made. I felt this way in his presence. Hell, I felt this way all the time.
Time decides who we have in our lives, our hearts decide how we feel about them, and our actions and attitude toward them determine how long they stay. I thought as we walked, I will do my best to make Erik happy, and whatever is meant to be will happen. In that book I read, it said that you don’t give someone your love, they take it. If that, in fact, is true, Erik took it. I damned sure didn’t give it to him, he took it.
Here I was going again with the thinking too much. My mind racing because I wasn’t busy doing something. We were walking, and no one was talking. I needed to get a conversation going with Erik to get my mind off of him. Talking with him made me forget everything. When I talked to him, I just wanted him to be happy with me for that moment. I focused on the moment, and the topic of discussion.
“So, where are we going to go on the motorcycle?” I asked.
“We’re going east of here about twenty miles, to a small airport,” he said, turning to the left as he spoke, “it’s a small airport with a patio that you can sit and drink, eat, and just relax at. The planes fly in and out just a few feet from where you sit. There are old bi-wing planes there. It’s really quite nice and relaxing. We will have fun.”
“Sounds fun,” I said.
“Here we are, The Buckle,” he said, stopping in front of the store.
I looked at the front of the store as if I was lost. I didn’t realize we had walked this far, from one end of the mall to the other. I looked up at him as if to get permission to enter. He nodded and motioned toward the store entrance.
We walked into the store together, arm in arm. Something about having my arm around his, his claiming me in public, making it known we were together – made me feel special. It made me feel warm inside. There was no gift on this earth that this man could give me that would be greater than the way he made me feel. As we walked back to the display of women’s jeans, I smiled.
“What’s funny, baby girl,” he asked as he turned toward me, smiling.
Never. I would never get sick of him saying that. Baby girl. I felt rubber legged when he said it. Don’t. Stop. Calling. Me. That. Ever.
“I was just thinking. I am happy today, that’s all, no reason.”
“I am happy as well, Kelli,” he said, “It’s a gorgeous day, and I am having a great time.”
I wondered what he meant. Was he happy because of me? Because of what I did at the restaurant? Because I had an orgasm for him like a good girl? Or was it some other reason? I wanted to know but didn’t want to ruin anything by asking. I decided to take my father’s advice and keep my mout
h shut. Being quiet was the smart move.
“Here they are,” I said as I picked up the jeans.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yes, I only wear one style from here, this is them. Do you like them?” I asked, holding them up for him to see.
“Try them on, baby girl,” Erik said. I felt as if I had no choice. His tone of voice often changed, and although it was not loud, or disrespectful, he had a ‘direct’ tone. This was it.
“Yes, sir,” I responded, walking toward the cashier.
“Excuse me; can you unlock a dressing room?” I asked the girl behind the counter.
“Five and six are unlocked,” she said as she twisted her hair in one finger, pointing to the rear of the store with the other.
“Okay, thank you,” I responded in a smart-ass tone.
I hated teens. I know that five years ago, I was a senior in high school, but it seemed so far away now. Now that I had completed college, the thought of being in high school seemed so distant
“Do you know her?” Erik asked.
“No, I just hate high school girls,” I said, now wondering how Erik might respond.
“So do I, baby girl, so do I.”
We walked through the aisles to the dressing rooms in the rear. As we walked past the various displays, Erik was very attentive to the clothes that they had out. He turned and looked at several, feeling the fabric or making a remark about something, and how it would look on me. When we got to the rear of the store, I looked at our reflection in the mirror. Erik looked great; tall, muscular, with very good posture. I looked like I had bird legs. After I confirmed the door handle was unlocked, I told Erik I would be right back out.
I pulled off my shoes and removed my shorts, placing them on the bench. I unfolded the jeans, and struggled to get into them. After I had them on they felt like they fit well, but getting into them was difficult. I looked for a mirror, and there wasn’t one in the room. I opened the door, and stepped out to look at them, and to show Erik.
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