It felt wonderful, better than I could have imagined. Just that little gesture made my heart sing.
My head on his abdomen and my hands around his hips, I pulled him in, clung to him.
I opened my eyes and saw his manhood hanging just in front of me.
I’d seen it before, but not like this. It didn’t look nearly as fearsome as before.
Like many of his generation, he had been circumcised and the rim of his crown was distinct, a slightly darker scar just below it. Paul’s arms froze on my head as I leaned forward.
The skin on his shaft felt soft against my nose.
My chin.
My lips.
No, I’d certainly not done this before. But I thought I knew how. It was something that got talked about at the occasional girls-only gathering, later, when the wine and coolers had had their time.
I put my hands on his hips, pushed him back a step, looked up to see him staring down at me. I smiled, best as I could.
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I slid my hand under his scrotum, felt the warmth behind it on my fingers, felt its contents shift as I rolled it gently, felt the wrinkled skin tighten as it rose against his body.
“May I?” I whispered softly.
I saw the desire growing in his eyes.
Smiling, fondling his weight, I worked on my confidence, remembered something one of the girls had recommended.
I knelt on the floor in front of him, lifted his half-soft length up against his tummy, leaned down and began to bathe his sac with soft, flowing strokes of my tongue. I could feel his twins through his skin, felt his shaft rapidly become harder.
I swirled my tongue over and around his sac, trying to please every part of it.
When I pulled back, he was fully hard. I ran my tongue along his full length, took carefully it in one hand and bent back to his sac.
His balls were swollen, heavy, but I thought they’d fit into my mouth, one at a time.
Carefully, my lips over my teeth, I sucked one egg inside, moved my tongue around it, gently pulled back from his body. I felt his cock twitch in my hand, heard him sigh above me.
Pulling back, I released him with a soft pop! before looking up to see Paul smiling down at me.
“How’s that?” I asked. I didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, I bent down and repeated it with his other ball.
With the second quiet pop! , I remembered another girl’s advice.
“Keep smiling! Keep looking at him – keep your eyes on the guy’s!” ” She’d grinned, added, “Make him think you’re loving it!”
Maggie had been pretty cynical that night. Maybe having just broken up with Darren had had something to do with it. It didn’t really matter, for I found that I was enjoying myself.
I enjoyed the feel of his stiff crown as I moved it back and forth against my open lips. I enjoyed Paul’s scent, returning now after his shower – musky, entrancing. I enjoyed the feel of his slit as it slid over the very tip of my tongue.
I found I liked the feeling of control all this gave me, the, what…? Feminine power? That’s not quite it, but I loved being in charge like this.
Even more than that, I was enjoying the look on Paul’s face as he stared down at me. There was no doubt at all that I was pleasing him.
I wasn’t entirely sure of where to go now, but I’d seen enough on the screen that I had the basic idea. And Paul was normal, not huge. I wanted to at least try.
Holding his cock by its base, I began to run my tongue over its head and shaft, around and around, letting its head flop against my face, run over my chin, cheeks, lips and nose. I kept watching Paul as I did so, pulled off him every few seconds to smile brightly up at him.
“Make it art!” another classmate had advised. I thought I was, for there was clearly deep enjoyment in his eyes, a softness to them I’d not ever seen before. And I found myself truly liking this, enjoying not only my control of Paul’s pleasure, but also the way this most curious bit of anatomy felt as it swept over my skin, hard and soft at the same time.
I took a firmer grip on his shaft, leaned in, took his tip into my mouth, over my lips, over my tongue now crouching at the bottom of my mouth.
Paul’s hand gently stroked my head, fingers sliding through my hair.
Grasping his taut sac with one hand, I began to slowly move my head back and forth over his hardness, taking him deeper and deeper into my mouth each time. He felt strange, almost too big, yet it was still pleasurable. I took him too deeply once, choked slightly and didn’t go so far in thereafter.
My cheeks hollow with suction, I swirled his plum with my tongue tip when it was in reach, the flat of my tongue sweeping his underside the rest of the time. My hand began to pump the soft, soft skin of his shaft; I found myself giggling inside at how easily it moved over his rigid core.
He was breathing heavily now. His hands rested on my head, fingers tangled in my hair.
His thighs tensed; his breath caught. I could see his eyes close.
I knew what would happen, wondered what it would be like when it did, tried to ready myself, tried to decide…
Paul reached down, grasped my upper arms, pulled me to my feet. I lost my grip on his shaft; his body pressed against me and I could feel it between us.
“Sam,” he whispered. “You’re amazing.”
His lips descended on mine and it wasn’t some vapid, sophomoric boy kissing me now, it was Paul, a strong, experienced, mature man. If I hadn’t been aroused before, I certainly was now. His lips had no sooner touched mine than I was shivered at the weight in my belly, the swelling of my labia, the insistent hardness of my nipples now pressing against his chest hair.
He bent slightly and his strong arms swept me up, lowered me to the mattress. In a moment, he was lying beside me, his eyes drifting up and down my form. I was doing my own admiring – studying anatomy is not the same as knowing a lover’s body.
Paul’s tongue traced my lips, met my own tongue, touched and danced and played. I gasped as I felt his hand move down my arm, drift over my tummy, rise to cup my breast. This was another first; my boyfriends had felt my bra; this was the first bare touch.
It felt heavenly.
Paul heard my gasp, felt my body tense up, clearly knew he was pleasing me. I felt my heart pound as he squeezed me gently, then found my nipple, teasing, rolling, pulling.
I ran my hands over his body, pulled his head against mine, mashed my lips on his. I was finding it hard to breathe and didn’t care. I wanted more of him.
Paul proved to be a master of foreplay. His hand left my boob, repeated the process with the other, then trailed fingertips over my chest, tummy and hips, leaving fiery lines of arousal in their wake.
One hand, then the other, found my breasts again, slid over them, cupped them and squeezed gently. His lips left a line of fairy kisses as they moved down my jaw, my neck, over my collarbone, then around my boobs, barely touching them.
None of my boyfriends had been this knowing and I wiggled happily under his caresses. I could feel my girl-bits swell more in their arousal, trying to keep pace with my nipples.
I moaned softly as his lips moved over the Girls. His tongue flowed around them, then up one in a slow spiral, gently, tenderly, closer and closer to where his thumb and fingers were pulling and rolling my nipples.