Blowee

It was later. The world was a long way away from wherever I was at that second. It was like looking at everything through a wide angle lens. Even my hands were several feet away from me. Only they were right there too.

The movie had finished the party was getting rowdy. A bunch of people had found their way to the swimming pool to shouts and applause. The beer pong table had seen steady turn over and unsteady players. I had had … some number of wines and the bottle was empty. I was 90% sure that I hadn’t drunk it all, but I knew that my judgment was just as drunk as I was.

And I was very drunk.

And very happy.

And I had to pee all the time.

The main floor had three bathrooms and a stream of people going in and out. I went in, realized that someone had done something unspeakable inside, weighed it against wetting my pants, and went as fast as I could. On the way out I screamed to the room, “I did not do that!”

My cup was still empty and the white was gone. I broke the rules, but I opened the wine cellar and went down to get another bottle.

The cool air of the basement did a little to bring me to my senses. I knew that there wasn’t any quick “get out of drunk free” card. “Health” class had taught me that, and nothing else. So I was still just as drunk, I just seemed to be thinking better.

Thinking so good that it seemed like a great thought to lie on the floor for a bit.

I heard the door up the stairs open and called, “Someone’s in here!”

“Aisling?” It was Big Davey.

“Yo.”

“Are you okay, you’ve been down here for a half an hour?”

“Is that all? I’m sure it’s been much longer, only five minutes.”

He came down the stairs and sat on the step at my feet, “You’re drunk.”

I looked up to see his face, “You’re horny.”

“Well I’m drunk too.”

“Fine,” I rolled over onto my side, “But we’re doing it this way.”

“On the hard basement?” He burped, “Not that appealing. Come upstairs, it’s died down enough we can sneak off.”

That really got some things into gear, I’d been background horny before but now—Shit.

I stood up as quickly as I could, which took about a minute, grateful for the dark. My phantom dick was un-phantomed with an absolute vengeance. Harder than Wolverines adamantium erection. I turned by back in the gloom and paid minute attention to the wine labels. This was hard because I was actually standing in front of a basin sink on accident. Breathing deep, I tried to think my way out of being drunk and think my erection away. I knew that both were impossible, but decided that I was drunk enough not to know that.

My breath hitched in my throat and then got shallow as Big Davey came and wrapped his arms around me. First around my waist, then palms up and over the tops of my breasts. He nibbled at my neck for good measure.

Tell him to stop, Aisling. In a bit Aisling. His hands are going down your pants, Aisling. It’ll be fine he’ll just get a shock.

Instead the shock was all mine because when he touched the tip, he just went lower and gave the base a squeeze. I wasn’t sure if it was the drunkenness or the fact that no one else had ever touched my dick, but it felt like he’d yanked on the base of my spine. My gasp was covered up by his riotous giggles. He spun away, and I waited for him to start … I don’t know. Probably call everyone down to the basement so they could laugh at the freak. The thought caused by brain to put in an advance order for tears. I could feel them like little drunken prickles behind my eyelashes.

I turned to see him doubled over, hands on his knees, “Aisling. Aisling. Look. Look, Aisling. Oh my god. Oh my god, Aisling. Oh my god, I’m so stoned. It felt like. Man I thought I was sobering up. I reached into your pants and felt a dick!”

Which put me in a really weird mood. The kind of mood where nothing could possibly be a bad idea. All impulse control was gone, and I was operating at the decision making capacity of a toddler. I turned around, closed my eyes for a second, sucked on my lips. Then eyes open I unbuckled my pants. My dick flopped out. Still chubby, down from ramrod iron under the pressure of anxiety.

Deep breath. Focus your eyes, Aisling. Try to stay present here.

Big Davey stood up straight, and stared at … well all of it. He cocked his head like a dog trying to understand English. Tilted it the other way. Finally he found words, “That’s a cock.”

Dumb words.

Less dumb words, “Aisling, I have buried my face in your pussy. I would have noticed if there was a cock there.”

I chocked on a sigh and looked to the ceiling before I said, “I can’t explain it in a way that will make sense, and you can’t understand. Because we’re both ineb—eneebrate—enerbrated—that thing.”

Big Davey came closer. Very closer. I found his eyes and we locked contact. Face inches from mine his fingers brushed my cheek, then the line of my breast, then wrapped around my cock.

“This is real,” he said. Profound in theory. Trite in context.

I was hard in his hand. Like silk wrapped around iron. He moved his hand from base to middle, then from base to tip. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

I was breathing harder now, eyes closed, feeling his breath in my mouth. I was trying not to over-sigh.

Hand still moving back and forth he asked, knowing what I would answer, “What do you want, Aisling?”

And I whispered the words I’d always wanted to say, in the context I’d always wanted to say them, “Suck it.”

He squeezed harder at the base and then increased pressure on the way up. I felt my foreskin stretch over my head and my lungs didn’t quite catch up with their job. “What did you say.”

I gathered my brain together, opened my eyes, and locked them on his. “Big Davey? Get down on your knees and suck my cock.”

His kiss was just a tap on the lips. Lids shading my eyes I watched as he, cock still in hand, slowly knelt. Felt his breath on the head of my rod. Watched him open his mouth wide. Then close it, and stroke me up and down some more. “Is this really what you want.”

I managed to say, “You fucking tea—” and then shuddered a gasp as I felt his tongue run up the vein in the base. It was all I could to nod at him when I looked down again.

He put his tongue to the tip. Gently pried the slit apart. My grip on the sink tightened and my wrists locked.

Then his mouth was on it.

I have then and since read a lot of descriptions of blowjob. They always talk about hot, or at the very least warm. That’s never been my experience.

Then and now I always feel coolness when there’s a mouth on my cock. Wet? Absolutely. But cool wet.

Not like—say—sticking your dick in a freezer. Do this: blow hot air on your wrist. Take it away from your mouth. Feel the memory of heat, mixed with the cold as the condensation of your breath dries?

It’s like that.

Like that and it was all over my rod. He sucked his lips in and bobbed his head, fucking me with his mouth. Letting me fill him up.

The week before Big Davey had taken his turn and I had sat on his face and made out with Autumn. I didn’t remember him being such an aggravating tease then. But in the wine cellar he was viciously taking his time. I would feel myself get a little closer, and moan, or twitch in his mouth, or breath too loud; and he would pull me off of his lips. Run his tongue over my frenum, or along the tip. Swirl it around the head. And when I was close to just grabbing his hair, back my dick would go inside.

I didn’t know if he’d ever done this before, but giving a blowjob when you know exactly what feels good has to count as research at least.

Finally he had enough, ran his palms around my ass, and started vigorously deep-throating me. My hands slipped off the sink, as my knees went weak. And yet there was still something missing. Within second of realizing that, I had a fist wrapped around each nipple, tugging and kneading. My eyes were closed and rolled up in my head. My hair had come out of its ponytail and was tickling my back.

As a girl I usually felt the build to orgasm as one steady long stream. This time it was like walking off the edge of a cliff. One second it was great, the next it was incredible and the next I was holding his head and feeling my cock spasm as my climax was milked out of me.

Yeah, he swallowed.

“So it just appeared like that?”

I had glossed over some salient points, banking that Big Davey wouldn’t remember this in the morning. It felt good to talk. “I mentioned it to this alien I know. He said he’d get back to me.”

Big Davey laughed like I had told a joke, “Well no one would believe it if you told them. I have the taste of your cum on my breath and I don’t believe it. Good for you?”

“Just what I wanted tonight. First time?”

“Yeah, it’s harder than it looks.”

I shrugged and drank from the bottle we had between us, “I guess it is? I mean, now that I’ve actually had one I know what I’ll do differently.”

“You’re weird, you know that Aisling?” Big Davey waxed drunkenly poetic, “Weird but cool. I’m so glad I know you.” He gave me a big hug, then laid his head on my lap and played with my shoes.

We went up the stairs holding hands, and cuddled together on the couch for a bit. Someone had turned on Cartoon Network and we watched terrible anime while the world devolved into drunken chaos.