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Bayview is a college town. We have the State University on the east side of town. Within a mile radius there are also a couple of private institutions – a technical school and an art college – maybe a couple other little schools that I’m not remembering. College kids seem to run on caffeine these days. So, we also have a handful of espresso bars. I frequent Cafe Napoli because it’s not part of a national chain and the coffee is good.
My name is Bill. I guess I’m pretty lucky. An elderly relative left me the small Bayview house I live in, when I was thirty-two. That was in 1990. The house is not big, but it’s big enough for me and it came to me without a mortgage. That means I need to make enough money to keep the place up, pay the taxes and utilities, feed myself and pay for any transportation I may require. It also means that I don’t have to keep a 9-to-5 job. I do some freelance writing. I help out some of my friends who have their own studios or businesses when they need an extra hand on the job or in the office. I occasionally take a temporary position when I need extra money. But, I have lots of leisurely afternoons when I haven’t much to do except go for a cappuccino, read at a table and maybe chat with the other patrons at the Napoli.
Bayview doesn’t have a daily newspaper. Bayview people who need real news subscribe to the paper from across the Bay. We do have the Bayview Free Press – the Freep – though. It’s a weekly and true to its name it’s free. It usually features one big exposé of local interest each week. The rest of the paper is reviews, a couple of syndicated columns, a lot of local advertising, plus a big classified section with, among other things, titillating personals and ads for escorts and phone sex providers. It’s not journalism, but it’s entertaining.
One January day, I was seated at a table at the Napoli reading the Freep, when young Megan Clark came in. Megan is a nice, friendly twenty-six year old. I met her at the Napoli one day the preceding summer when she wanted to pet the little wire-haired terrier that I was dog-sitting for a friend. When I first met her, I tried to flirt with her, but she didn’t seem too interested in an old guy like me. So, after a while, I mostly let the flirting go and exchanged pleasantries with her when I saw her. We sometimes ended up chatting at adjacent tables. By and by, I noticed that she had started coming around the Napoli with a young guy about her age whom she called, Jason. That solved the mystery of her not flirting with me.
Megan is a pretty young lady about 5 foot 5 inches tall. She has shoulder-length curly brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. She has a firm full bosom, curvy hips and round bottom. You wouldn’t call her overweight, but you might think her built more for comfort than speed. So, you can’t really blame me for trying to flirt with her. A man just can’t help himself. Megan returned to school after some time in the workforce so, at twenty-six, she’s still working on a degree in Design at the university.
Anyway, I was reading the Freep – Wendy Wild’s syndicated Sex and Relationships column – when Megan came toward my table with her coffee. She sat down at the table next to mine. Noticing my reading, she said, “I think I may write Wendy a letter myself.”
“No, really?” I said. “What’s the matter? I was sure you and Jason had a great relationship.”
“I’m not sure if it’s him or me,” she replied.
“Well, I’m not one to pry,” said I.
“Oh, I’ll tell you,” she said. “You tell me whether I’m being too sensitive or if he is just an ass.”
Taking a big sip of her latte, and lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone, she launched into her story. She had been making love to handsome, young Jason a day or two before. Apparently, they were at it for a while and tried a few different positions and techniques. Megan had been pretty happy with the whole bout. When they were done, basking in the afterglow, cuddling and comparing notes about the sex, she asked Jason, “What did you think about when I went down on you?”
He had responded, “It was fine.”
Thinking he sounded a little unenthusiastic, she pressed him, “What do you mean fine? Wasn’t it as good a cock-sucking as you’ve ever had?”
Then Jason had apparently responded, “Actually, I think that Juliet Massa gives the best blow jobs in the United States.”
Obviously, in a moment of guileless bluntness, Jason had placed his foot squarely in his own mouth. Somehow, I felt I knew what to say.
“It’s not you, Megan. It’s perabet Jason. He’s an ass.”
“Yeah,” she responded, “can you believe the gall of that guy throwing Juliet Massa in my face, just ten minutes after I pulled his cock out of my throat and fucked his brains out.”
“No, that’s just awful,” I said. “Who is Juliet Massa, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Some tramp he slept with when he was in school in Colorado.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” I sympathized, silently noting Juliet’s name on the off chance that I might meet her someday. “I wonder what Wendy Wild would tell you.”
“I can’t begin to guess,” she replied.
“Oh, well, I can begin to guess,” I ventured. “She’d tell you that you didn’t say if you made him orgasm when you were giving him oral attention. Did you?”
“And she’d wonder whether you ever made him orgasm with oral. Did you?”
“Any reason why not?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I guess a blowjob is more just foreplay to me. I like to suck my man good and stiff and then get on and ride him to the finish, I guess.”
“Then, Wendy Wild might just tell you to brush up on your oral skills, if you don’t want to run in second place behind Juliet Massa in the blowjob event. You know what? In my experience, 95 percent of the practicing heterosexual women in Bayview, and the other places I’ve been, for that matter, will take a guy’s penis in their mouths and kiss, lick and suck it to get him hot. About 5 percent of them will sometimes kiss, lick and suck it until the guy comes. I’m not entirely sure why that is. But I’ll bet Juliet is one of those five per centers. And, it sounds like you’re just not.”
“Huh, maybe,” Megan sighed at me.
“You know what else? I have a theory; great fellatrices are made, not born. Every time I’ve ever run into one of those five per centers, I’ve heard that she was taught how to give great blow jobs by an old boyfriend or some other guy. Jason could probably teach you.”
“I’m not talking to him right now,” she replied curtly.
“Oh, well then I’d be happy to tutor you,” I said quickly.
“You old perv!” she shot back at me.
“Yeah,” I said grinning sheepishly.
Then to my utter surprise, Megan said, “Well, alright. How would this work?”
I outlined a curriculum quickly in my head. “There’d be a short lecture and a laboratory. You’d be on your own for the final exam. We could do it all in one big cram session this afternoon, if you want.”
And with an, “Okay.” Megan became my pupil.
The lecture we did while walking to my little house – the site of our laboratory – which is just three blocks from Cafe Napoli.
“There are five main concepts that every great fellatrix employs – Comfort, Attitude, Handiwork, Rhythm and Stamina,” I told Megan. “We’ll go through them one by one. You’ll want to memorize them, but it won’t be difficult.”
“Now, comfort is the funniest one. It is a desideratum, but not absolutely essential. You will want to make yourself as comfortable as possible and make your subject as comfortable as possible. Everything else being equal, it’s easier to suck your man to orgasm when you are both comfortable than when you are not. That being said, it is also entirely possible to give a successful blowjob when you have a gear shift lever poking you in the ribs and his scrotum is partially stuck in his zipper. Still, as they say, ‘Don’t make it hard on yourself.’ That’s what you need to know about comfort.”
“Yes, professor,” said Megan.
“Then comes attitude. Now, the best fellatrices have an attitude. They are determined, goal-oriented and confident. Unless they are just teasing, they decide before they take a man’s cock in their mouths that they are going to bring him to orgasm orally. They are sucking to produce a couple of teaspoons of sticky goo and will not accept anything less. And, they are pretty sure they are going to get it, because they know quite well that once they get that cock in their mouths their subject wants nothing more than to reward them with exactly that. That’s the required attitude.”
Megan nodded appreciatively as we strolled down the street.
“Handiwork is what I call the pure mechanics of the top flight blow job. It includes kissing, licking and sucking. Now, the fact that you survived infancy is a testament to the fact that you know all you need to know about sucking. Any child over the age of three who has had an ice cream cone knows what you need to know about licking. I’m guessing that you got enough perabet giriş practice French kissing after high school dances. Almost no women need help with the oral part of oral sex. But I also call this mechanical element ‘handiwork’ to remind you that the best fellatrices also use their hands when they’re working on a Peter”
I paused for a moment as some people passed us on the sidewalk.
“Have you ever watched a man masturbate, Megan?”
“Well, yes, a few times on videos. And, one of my boyfriends showed me how he did it because I asked him to.”
“So, in your experience, are men gentle with their themselves?” I asked.
“No,” said Megan, “it seems like they squeeze and pump themselves pretty hard.”
“Right. So, use your hands. You can do what you’ve seen men do. And keep in mind that you can squeeze and pump the shaft of a cock pretty much as hard as you’d like. You won’t hurt it. He’ll like it. Wrapping your hand around a cock can also help keep it from being stuffed down your throat if you’re not ready for it. You will want to be gentle with testicles and scrotums. A firm gentle massage of the perineal area can also stimulate the prostate and help bring your man to orgasm. Of course, there are other advanced techniques for prostate massage, but they are beyond the scope of the basic lecture.”
“That brings us to Rhythm. Once again you surely know what you need to know about rhythm. But a couple of tips will assure that you employ effective methods. I’m sure you have some favorite songs – songs to which you know all of the words. Keep a couple of them in mind. Maybe one slow one, and another fast one. Or maybe, one with a sweet introduction followed by a rocking chorus. If you can play a favorite song in your mind, and use your lips, tongue and fingers in time as you recall every nuance of the song, you’ll go a long way toward bringing your fellow to climax. You probably won’t want to sing or hum. And, you probably won’t want to tell your man that he came because you can recall every word and every nuance of a certain Lady Gaga tune. Just let him think that he came because you are perfectly attuned to his needs.”
We turned onto my street and began walking the last hundred yards to my little bungalow.
“Lastly, to give a great blowjob, you may need Stamina. Some women almost give a great blowjob, but maybe they get tired, or bored, or anxious for their own satisfaction. They may have a comfortable man, a desire to please, and may be doing an excellent job of stimulating his male parts in tempo, but they just don’t keep at it until they get the reward. Have stamina. Remember that if you have done the other four things, his involuntary spasm can’t be far off. Tell, yourself that you can do one more chorus of that song you’ve been imagining until you get his little explosion. You will get it.”
“Okay, comfort, attitude, handiwork, rhythm and stamina. That’s it. End of lecture. This is my front walk. The roses are all just thorn bushes right now, but you should see the flowers in the spring,” I told her.
We took our shoes off inside my front door and hung our coats on the rack. I offered Megan a glass of white wine for ‘comfort’ which she accepted. I poured myself one too. She looked at the posters and photos on my wall, and looked at the contents of my bookshelves while she sipped her wine and put herself at ease.
“Do I need to take my clothes off for this?” she asked me rather abruptly.
Considering for a moment, I said, “As much as I would like to see and explore every square inch of your young, firm body, Megan, I suppose that you don’t. This lab is about you getting me to come with your oral skills. You’ll need unimpeded access to my private parts, but sadly I don’t need access to yours.”
“Alright,” she said unbuttoning the top buttons of her blouse, “but I’ll give you a little view anyway.” She revealed the tops of two firm half globes and I was quietly appreciative.
“So, where would you like to do your lab work?” I asked.
“Mmmm, there on the couch, I think. You could lie down with your head north and your feet south, and I could kneel on one of those pillows and do the experiment.”
“Alright, you may begin when you are ready,” I told her.
Megan set down her wine glass on an end table and strode in two graceful steps toward me. With slender, clever fingers, she unfastened my belt, unbuttoned my waist band, unzipped my zipper and dropped my jeans to the floor. She pushed me gently backward toward perabet güvenilir mi the couch, leaving my pants in a little puddle of cloth on the floor. She next dropped my boxers to the floor, revealing my swelling cock. She grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and placed it on the floor. With her hands on my shoulders, she silently urged me to lie upon the couch. I readily complied.
Kneeling she looked over my stiffening equipment. “Oooh, Bill.” she said, “You are so neatly trimmed and shaved down here. I love it.”
“Yes,” I replied. “A great fellatrix once told me that it was easier to give a great blowjob to a well-groomed cock. I’m an eternal optimist and I wake up every morning thinking that today would be a perfect day for a great blowjob. So, I try to stay prepared.”
Megan giggled and took my cock in her mouth.
“Hold it,” I said. “Attitude check. How are feeling about this?”
“Well,” Megan replied, “I’m going to suck your cock until you come. I’m going to make it spurt thick dollops of jizz for me. And, I’m pretty sure I can do it because I’ll be blowing the one person in the world who wants to see this cock spurt more than I do. How’s that?
“Perfect. Let me tell you what to do. Start with your left hand and reach behind my testicles, gently pull them forward and massage that spot back there. When you do that, it pumps me up and I can feel that all the way up to the head of my penis. Mmmm, just like that.”
“Now, kiss my balls. Suck one into your mouth. Yes, exquisite. Now the other one. Lick all the way up my cock and suck the head into your mouth. Mmmm, nice.”
Lying on the couch I looked southward and viewed one of favorite sights – Megan’s pretty face ringed in curly brown hair with a good mouthful of my cock. My appreciation of the pretty picture was only enhanced by the warm, wet and wonderful sensations that accompanied the view.
“Okay, Megan, now wrap your hand around my cock and cue your music. Here’s where you begin the freestyle cock-sucking. I won’t tell you what to do. You’ll know if I like what you’re doing. Don’t stop until you reach your goal.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” Megan moaned back at me as her head began to bob over my erection.
I closed my eyes and surrendered to Megan’s ministrations as she sucked and pumped my swollen member. Her rhythm was solid and she didn’t really require much coaching. I vocalized my appreciation at intervals. She stroked my cock, sucked its head and swirled her tongue over and under it. The sensations were exquisite.
A few minutes more, and I was near to losing control. I couldn’t help myself, I returned to my active coaching role.
“Oh, suck it, Megan! That’s great. You’ve got me on the edge. Oh, pump that cock, Megan. Come on, hon, give me the dance mix.”
Megan picked up the tempo of her attentions to my cock – a little faster and a little more aggressive.
“That’s it. Come on, bring me over the edge. Yes, yes, yes!” I gasped.
Megan must have heard a change in my breathing. Suddenly she squeezed the base of my cock tightly between her thumb and forefinger, released her lip lock on the head of my cock, and then loosened her grip. My cock erupted in a series of spurts. Dollops of creamy goo splashed all across my lower abdomen. I groaned with satisfaction and a massive endorphin rush.
Megan dabbed her fingers in the mess she had loosed on my stomach and smiled. I lay on the couch breathing deeply for a couple of minutes while Megan, satisfied in a different way surveyed the results of her efforts.
When I caught my breath at last I looked into her sparkling blue eyes and said, “Well, Ms. Clark, you’ve passed my fellatio tutorial with honors. That’s cum laude! I am sure you will do wonderful things upon graduation.”
Megan giggled. I pulled my boxers and my pants back on. She buttoned up her blouse, and we made small talk while we finished drinking that bottle of wine. After a while Megan said she thought she’d be going. She thanked me for the blow job lesson. I assured her that the pleasure had all been mine. We laughed together. She put on her coat and shoes. I walked her out to the street and sent her on her way.
Three days later, I was drinking coffee and reading in the Cafe Napoli when Megan Clark walked in followed closely by young Jason.
“I’ll get us a table. You can get me a latte,” I heard her tell the young man. He trotted up to the bar to order coffees and Megan wandered toward me, taking the next table over. She nodded politely at me and took a seat. Looking across the noisy cafe she said aloud apparently to no one in particular. “I tried out that technique again. I hear that actually I am much better than Juliet Massa.”
Grinning, I mumbled at my newspaper, “I can believe that.”
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