Certain Skills

It was one of those moments of revelation. I’d been eaten out before, usually as a part of foreplay before the sex started. It felt good, don’t get me wrong. Made me wet, over and above the tongue and saliva. Enough to make the fucking part pleasurable, for sure. But, you know, it was fun, but nothing world changing. It wasn’t like what I’d read in the hot stories – though that makes sense with fiction and fantasy. It wasn’t like in porn – though that was so obviously fake it was no surprise. I never really came until after, when I had a few private moments by myself with my own fingers to release the tension. After all, I was the only one who knew exactly where and how to touch. 

Until Owen.

We’d gotten to this stage the usual way. A few dinner dates, a movie out, a show, some dancing. He was nice, interesting, and seemed like he had his shit reasonably together. Maybe not Mr. Right, but someone worth the time to figure out for sure yes or no. You know how it is. His body was really nice when he slowly revealed it to me, and it was pretty obvious from his rising erection he appreciated mine. 

He was a good kisser, too, with strong hands that felt good on my skin. But the first surprise was that when we got to the bed, instead of any of the ways I had expected it to go – I blow him, he licks me, we fuck being the most common – He pulled me to the bed on top of him, and guided me up his body until I was nearly straddling his face, and then he started eating me.

I say that so matter of factly, as if that word was adequately descriptive. It isn’t. Owen didn’t just lick, or nibble, or tease, or anything so simple. Owen devoured. Owen consumed. But not in a way that felt destructive or took away like those words might imply. Every movement of his tongue, and lips – and fingers – on me and in me, seemed like a quest for those specific spots that would drive me the most wild, and one by one, he found them, and played them more and more, better and better with each passing minute, until I wasn’t even aware of minutes passing at all. And then he found a spot I hadn’t known about. And played it, too. 

At first I was just stunned that anyone besides me could find and exploit those places that were my go-tos – that got me off without fail in privacy, after yet another un-admitted let-down of sex with another person. Then, with his mouth and both hands busy all over me, my knees spread wide to either side of his head, the first wave of orgasm washed over me, seeming to physically push me back. I had been feeling good, – better than good – but still I hadn’t expected it. I hadn’t expected anyone else to be able to make me come. And then the climax hit full force and I cried out, lurching forward, grinding my pussy down onto his mouth reflexively, which only heightened the sensations he gave me – and allowed his tongue to dart deeper into me before swiping up over my clit.

My body locked, and every cell seemed to cry out in pleasure, and I realized that all the other times I’d brought myself off, every masturbatory consolation orgasm I’d ever given myself, had been nothing. This was orgasm. This was coming. And Owen kept pushing it higher and higher. I screamed. I bucked, My pussy flooded Owen’s face. He held on and licked and frigged and squeezed and didn’t stop until I collapsed backward in a jerking heap, and then he still didn’t stop until I couldn’t even spasm any more, but merely gasped for breath.

I heard him hum the sexiest most satisfied sound down there between my legs, and smack his lips. He kissed my inner thighs one at a time as I just lay limp on top of him. 

Owen told me I tasted like a Goddess, and made me believe it. He let me rest, stroking my sides and legs with his hands as my sweat cooled on my skin. His cock was rock hard – I could feel it pressing against me, but he didn’t make any move to do anything about it. He gave me time. Enough time. 

It was me who reached for him, next. I didn’t know if I could do for him what he’d just done for me, but I was going to try. 

Owen still may not be Mister Right. But I am definitely going to put in the time to find out.

Categories: Erotic Fiction, Monocle, Oral SexTags: , , ,


I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.


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