So my post yesterday got some views.  I got a couple messages from people expecting to hear more about the blow job.

Perverts.

I don’t remember a lot of the details of the sexual encounter.  I remember I had to wait until Bonnie fell asleep to sneak out.

I remember Troy being angry when I got around to getting on the bus to see him.  I remember the building itself seeming to be in better condition than what I saw yesterday.

I recall wanting to suck his dick and my brain sorting through all the stuff I read about how to do it. I recall hearing his approval and repeating things that I did because it seemed to be working.

I was on top of him when the bed broke.  I used to hop up top all the time back then. It was my go-to position actually. I enjoyed the power.  I enjoyed the control. I craved hearing him beg for more and it being in my control if he got it or not.

Broken bed or no we kept going until I didn’t want anymore.

This was pre-orgasm Nicole.  Yeah I know that I sound like I was born knowing how to give myself pleasure, but even though I was enjoying the sex I was having, learning how to orgasm would come literally years later.

I wasn’t self conscious about my body.  I didn’t fear rejection.  I operated like a woman who owned her sexuality even though I hadn’t yet uncovered my sexual nature.  My proclivities were only vague clouds in my imagination, they weren’t fully formed desires.

Troy would tell you I was good in bed.  I know this because he told everyone at work I was good in bed. Troy never got to meet the woman I would become.

I was considerably more savage back then.  The idea of keeping him around never occurred to me.  I knew he had a girlfriend and I didn’t care.  His commitment to her was not anything I gave a shit about.

In fact if things hadn’t gone sideways with Bonnie reading my journal, the decision to not fuck again was something he would hear brutally from me.  I was much more likely to say fuck no back then than I am now. Now I appreciate how rare it is to click sexually the first time and I am inclined to give you a second shot if you show potential.

Thinking about my first blow job got me to thinking about my last blow job.  Baltimore.

I remember sitting and talking to Baltimore and feigning interest in what he was saying.  I mean I had to pretend because if I allowed my disgusted – you’re gonna vote for Jill Stein – face show, chances are I wasn’t gonna get the D.

When he took off his pants – finally – he was already rock hard.  I am gonna attribute that to that 29 year old thing. Despite being at attention he stood there with a sense of expectation of a blow job.

I was annoyed actually.

His penis was pretty and the type I like to suck, but I hoped that we could avoid all the prep and dive straight into the sex.

If I were to grade my last blow job I would give it a “C”.   I don’t know what he would score it but I know I gave a mediocre blow job.

I think a part of it is the freedom of better knowing how utilize another person as a human vibrator. Another part of it was thinking that chances are we weren’t gonna get naked again so there wasn’t a need to being him back for more.

In the weeks since I regret it a little.  I don’t regret it enough though to offer to redeem myself. If we’re in the same place and time again I may ask if there aren’t other options, but I’m not  handcuffed to the idea that he should be in rotation.

I’m also not handcuffed to the idea of there being a rotation.  I still have so many more things to do, and other than breaking in Ice Cold, none of them involve a regular sexual partner.

If that changes though, you’ll be the first to know constant reader.

 

 

Aphrodite Brown