The Afternoon I Discovered My Taste for Oral

Thanks for all the sweet messages you left me about the previous stories. Several of you asked me the same thing: whether what I tell happened to me for real or whether I made it up. I’m not going to answer that. I’d rather leave you wondering, because that’s where the fun is. But I do feel like confessing something else to you, something more intimate, that I almost never talk about.

I’m going to explain to you how I discovered that I loved using my mouth. And I mean “discovered” seriously, because I wasn’t born knowing it. I was taught. I owe it to two very different men, and from each of them I learned something that still stays with me. This time I’m talking about the first one. The second one can wait for another day.

The first one was my boyfriend back then. Let’s call him Bruno.

***

Back then I had just turned twenty and I was in my first year at university. I’d known Bruno for a long time, from the neighborhood, but that year we ended up in the same classes and everything sped up. We had that strange kind of trust that can’t really be explained: we laughed at anything, we told each other what we liked with no filter, no shame. And that, believe me, is what really makes sex work.

We met up almost every week at his place, under the pretense of studying. Sometimes we studied. Most of the time, not so much. When his mother was around, we’d lock ourselves in his room and behave almost well, laughing and keeping our hands still by force. But on the days when she wasn’t there, the books never even got opened.

With Bruno I also started discovering how much I liked doing it in places where we could get caught. He was really into that game, that adrenaline rush of fucking in secret, and without even noticing, I started catching the fever too. But I already talked about that in other stories. That afternoon was different, calmer, more ours, and yet it’s the one I remember best.

I’ve always been the kind of girl who enjoys watching the other person come. And with blow jobs I found my perfect place, because I can look at his face, feel his breathing change, notice every movement, hear those sounds that slip out of him without meaning to. There’s something powerful about that, about knowing that the guy in front of you depends completely on what you decide to do with your tongue in the next second. No one ever complained to me, so I guess I must do something right.

That particular afternoon his mother wasn’t home. We knew it the second I walked through the door, by the way he looked at me. We went straight to his room, he locked the door, and we started kissing standing up, unhurried but without stopping.

His hands roamed all over me, from my shoulders to my waist, stopping where he knew I melted. While we kissed, my tongue played with his, sometimes slowly, sometimes hungrily. My hands never stayed still either: I touched his arms, his chest, his back, and above all I loved feeling the bulge pressing against my hip, that cock already starting to get hard just from us kissing.

He started undressing me with that lovely clumsiness that comes from wanting someone too much. He pulled my T-shirt up to my eyes, covering my vision, and unclasped my bra. With his hands and his mouth he went over my tits, sucking my nipples slowly, biting them just a little, and I was already feeling my cunt getting wet just from that.

—At this rate I won’t last and I’m going to shove it in you with your clothes on —he murmured against my skin.

—Didn’t you say you wanted to try something new today? —I answered, half laughing, half sighing.

—I know. But you turn me on so much, Marina —he said, without stopping kissing my neck—. Makes me want to rip your clothes off and be done with it.

—Like that afternoon in the parking lot? —I reminded him, pressing myself closer and feeling his hard cock digging into my stomach—. We can repeat that tomorrow. Today was supposed to be your surprise.

He thought for a second, and you could tell that the memory of that other time was tugging at him too. But curiosity won.

—You’re right —he said—. We’ll leave that for another day. Anyway, I really wanted to try this.

***

He finished taking off my T-shirt and threw it on the floor. He looked me over, biting his lip, as if regretting not having let himself go sooner. He grabbed my pants and panties at the same time and pulled them down in one determined motion. When I was completely naked, he crouched down, buried his face between my legs, and licked my cunt from bottom to top, once, slowly, like someone signing their name. A moan slipped out of me so long it even surprised me.

—This is just a preview —he said, licking his lips—. After this we’re going for more.

He lifted me by the waist, kissed me with my own taste still in his mouth, and almost without noticing we were both on the bed. He took off his T-shirt and yanked down his jeans and boxers in one go. When I saw his cock come out all at once, hard, stiff, with the head swollen and shining, my mouth watered. I mean that literally. It wasn’t desire anymore: it was hunger.

He settled me on top of him. While one hand kept trailing over my back and ass, he brought his mouth to my ear, kissed just under it, and told me softly, in that tone that undid me.

—Down. Suck me.

We exchanged one of those looks that don’t need words. I started to lower myself slowly, leaving a trail of kisses down his chest, over his stomach, along the strip of hair that ran down to his groin, stopping where I knew everything sped up for him. I wasn’t in a hurry. I liked the journey as much as the destination, and I wanted him to feel every inch.

I ran my tongue along the inside of his thigh, went up to his balls and kissed them both, one and then the other, sucking them carefully while I felt his cock twitching on its own against my cheek. He let out a tight “fuck,” and I smiled without stopping kissing him down there.

When I finally took his cock in my hand, I did it taking my time, looking him in the eyes. I gripped him at the base, firm, and stuck out my tongue. I started slowly, licking him from the balls up to the head, bottom to top, again and again, like he was an ice cream I didn’t want to finish. I circled the tip with my tongue, played with the frenulum, felt him pulsing alive against my tongue. A shiny thread leaked from the head and I licked it up without thinking, smiling.

—You’re going to kill me, Marina... —he whispered.

I took him into my mouth little by little, swallowing him halfway first, closing my lips tightly around him, sucking hungrily. Then more, and more, until I could feel him pressing against the back of my palate. I was so turned on I felt like the game had turned into need. I was short of breath but I didn’t want to let him go. My head moved up and down with a rhythm of its own, my hand doing what didn’t fit in my mouth, twisting at the base, and with my other hand I caressed his balls, tugging at them gently, weighing them in my palm. He rested his hand on my hair, not pushing, just leaving it there, like he was accompanying me, though every now and then I could feel the restrained impulse in his fingers.

During a pause, while I kept jerking him slowly with my saliva-soaked hand, I looked up. A line of spit was hanging from my mouth to the head.

—And that new thing you wanted to try? —I asked, genuinely curious.

—I can’t tell you —he answered with a naughty smile, breathless—. It’s a surprise. You just keep sucking me like that.

I went back to what I was doing, which by then had become my favorite place in the afternoon. I spit on the head so it would slip better and took him all the way back into my mouth, pressing my lips tight, sucking hard as I pulled him out. It went on for a good while, long and unhurried. I tried everything: sometimes I’d take him all the way out and give him broad licks with my tongue flat, sometimes I’d shove him all the way to the back and stay there, fighting the gag reflex, eyes watering, while he let out a guttural moan that made me squeeze my thighs together. I let him know with my eyes how much I was enjoying myself. This wasn’t a chore. I was getting off too, inside, and he knew it.

I loved the weight of his cock on my tongue, the salty flavor that grew stronger, the heat of his skin, the way his breathing broke whenever I changed the rhythm. Every now and then I’d take him out completely and run him across my face, my cheek, my closed lips, just to look at him, to see that mix of pleasure and impatience that showed up on him, and then I’d shove him back in all at once until the back. It was like a game where I was in charge, and he let me lead him happily.

***

At one point I felt his hand change. He wasn’t pushing, but he also wasn’t letting me pull away. He kept me right there, with his cock buried deep in my mouth. I heard him moan a little louder, felt his thighs tense, felt his dick swell even more between my lips, and then it happened.

A sudden, thick heat filled my mouth. The first load came out so hard I felt it hit the roof of my mouth, my throat, without warning. And then another, and another, each hot spurt of semen flooding my tongue, filling me until it almost spilled from the corners of my mouth. It was the first time a guy had finished in my mouth. I knew the taste only in passing, from having tasted him with the tip of my tongue before, but never like this, never all at once, never the whole load, completely.

And there I was, eyes wide with surprise, mouth full of cum, not quite sure what to do. The funny thing is that instead of scaring me, it lit everything up inside me. I felt a lash of heat in my cunt, it clenched on its own, and I noticed I was soaked. I couldn’t help playing a little before lifting my head. I let him go with my lips pressed tight, letting his still-hard cock drop and drip against his stomach, and I looked him in the eyes, holding his load in my mouth without swallowing.

—Hmmm, you did that so well... —he said, breathless, his chest rising and falling—. Don’t look at me like that. That was the surprise. I wanted to come in your mouth without warning you, to see how you’d react. And I loved your face with all my cum inside. That, and... let’s see if you feel like swallowing it all. Tell me what you think.

At that point I was too turned on to think about it much. So I did it. I opened my mouth for a second so he could see everything he’d shot inside me, the way my tongue was swimming in his semen, and then I closed my lips and swallowed. I swallowed as much as I could at once, feeling the heat slide down my throat, thick, salty, and then I finished by running my tongue over my lips, gathering up what had spilled out, never taking my eyes off him. I licked the tip of his cock, still sensitive, sucking the last drop left on the head.

—So? How was it? —he asked, with a mix of nerves and pride.

—Honestly? —I said, my heart still pounding and his taste all over my mouth—. Not bad at all. Way better than I expected. I could get used to this. —I paused and added—: Although you’re a shameless bastard for not warning me, I nearly choked on the whole load all at once.

—You’re incredible, Marina —he replied, laughing—. I like you more every time. Don’t worry, I doubt I’ll warn you next time either. —He winked at me, ran his thumb over the corner of my lip, gathering a drop that had spilled out, and put it in my mouth so I’d suck it off him—. And we still have the whole afternoon ahead of us. Now it’s my turn to eat that pussy until you beg me to stop.

***

The story ends there, although I confess Bruno did keep his promise and had me with my legs open for quite a while longer, licking my cunt until I came twice in a row before he fucked me again, and I’m keeping that part to myself. What I wanted to tell you was exactly that: the first time I swallowed a full load and the strange, hot feeling of discovering something new about myself.

Because that was what really happened, deep down. It wasn’t just a blow job. It was realizing there was a part of me I didn’t know, one that enjoyed that surrender, that closeness, seeing the other person lose control over something I was giving him with my mouth. I took to it fast. And over time that taste grew, refined itself, became something else. But that, truly, is material for another story.

As I said at the beginning, the second one was taught to me by a very different man, older than me, with a different kind of patience and different tricks. From him I learned to suck in a different way, with things that had never even crossed my mind with Bruno. But that’s another story, and I owe it to another afternoon.

I hope you liked this confession. Until next time.