Adventures Unfinished Ch. 02x

The experience earlier in the evening had been OK, but with Sal now part of my past I was feeling a little at sea. In fact, I was feeling so horny that if Connor had simply put a hand on my skin (which was at that moment fully enclosed in casual clothes, an extra sweater and a coat) I would surely have climaxed. Alas, he did not, but his kissing stirred me to action.

"So, Connor," I said to him, licking his neck below his ear, "do you live around here?"

"No, I live in Ohio, but I'm going to be moving to the Chicago area," he said. "The company I'm working for put me up in a condo here, north of Green Lake, but if you keep that up I'll live anywhere you'd like."

"I used to live in Chicago, by the way," I told him. "But what I, in fact, want to communicate is that I am having a really, really nice time kissing you. You smell so good."

"Just soap," he told me. "And, now probably pheromones, or whatever sexually stimulated substances the skin produces."

I moaned — he may have too, but I was mostly aware of my own erotic sensations — as I moved a hand onto his thigh.

He moaned back. "You keep that up and your fingertips are going to get sticky."

"Just my fingertips?" I kidded him. "I was hoping for a whole handful."

He pulled back, his eyes briefly opened wide as he realized my intent. He smiled.

"Patrice, you've come to the right place for that."

Now it was my turn. I pulled back and looked at him. Was he yanking my chain? What did that mean exactly?

Twenty minutes later my saliva was being applied to what is probably a uniquely male muscle: that place just under the ball sack where one can feel an ejaculation. I always assumed it was where a hard-on began, in one sense of the expression.

So, as I said, my saliva was being applied by my tongue on my living room sofa to that place on his body. (Prepositional phrases always have so much room for misunderstanding with their flexible placement in sentences. Was my tongue on my sofa? Was his ball sack? Apologies for the divagation.) He still tasted good and from what I could see, he'd kept himself in reasonable shape, although as I earlier estimated he would benefit by losing a few pounds. I figured him for 37 or 38, but it could be anywhere from early thirties to early forties. I was never very good at guessing ages.

Once I was satisfied that his cock and balls were acceptably wetted, I pulled back to look at his cock. It was not unattractive, but simply quite ordinary. Circumcised, average length and width, a ball sack that hung rather low, but all within standard tolerances.

"So, as you told me earlier, this thing won't just give me a few wet fingers, huh? This could give me a whole handful of cum?"

He looked at me quizzically.

"Do you really want to know?"

I nodded.

"It's not that I ejaculate that much more than the guys I've seen in porn. It's that I can get hard and come again very quickly after an orgasm."

This statement gave me a tremor of delight. I smiled at him as I tongued the head of his cock, tasting the sweet nectar of pre-seminal fluid.

Earlier in the evening Sal had asked me what he could do to please me. I thought it was something everyone wants to hear. Now in my case, Connor's statement about coming multiple times in seemingly rapid succession was probably even hotter.

"You really know what to say to a girl," I said. He smiled.

"Wanna see?"

"Well, I suppose, but what I really want is to taste."

"You keep up those actions and you'll have a mouthful of some funky male white stuff in 60 seconds. Tops."

I recommenced my ministrations with a renewed vigor.

He was standing in front of me as I sat on the sofa. My neck was bent a bit too far down for my comfort. Keeping my tongue and lips moving on his cock, I relocated myself to the carpeted floor. His cock was then directly aimed at the back of my mouth. I leaned forward and moved a hand to the outside of each of his strong thighs. This allowed me to move my head more forcefully, essentially fucking his cock with my mouth, my whole head in fact.

I could feel him tensing each time his head hit the back of my mouth. I wanted to bring him deep into my throat, but I knew enough about men and their orgasms to know that he was just about there. He needed constancy on my part. He did not need the introduction of a new action.

And, if he was truly telling it straight, there'd possibly soon be more comes for him — and hence for me!

The frustration in all of the disagreements — not the least of which was the playfulness with a mouthful of cum — I'd had with Sal earlier in the evening were things of the past. My present was actually soon to be a present: Connor's cum in my mouth. What more could any girl want?

(That was a rhetorical question. I know there are many women, most in fact, who'd prefer mouthfuls of cum to be instead labeled vaginafuls. That term, however as far as I know, is not a thing.)

And while I'm on the subject of tangents, Sal's pal Aaron did return to my consciousness briefly. Although there'd been an event I'd attended back in Chicago where I'd met a couple of women who'd worked in porn, I'd never known a guy who'd done so. I again wondered if they were similarly endowed in their recuperative powers as Connor ostensibly was? It really didn't matter: I'd find out about him momentarily.

I kept his cock moving in and out of my mouth for just another few seconds and then he held my head. I increased the pressure with my tongue on the underside of the head and just moved it slightly forward and back so he'd know it was there.

That was all it took. Two seconds later I felt the first shot of semen force itself against my tongue. It was followed by another nine or ten (but, hey, who's counting!). With each spurt I was transported to that orgasmic place of my own and, as my taste buds began to be aware of the pool of cum in my mouth, I began a slow climax around shot number six.

That climax took over my body. I was aware of his cock completing its current mission as well as his own X-rated oral (and here I mean verbal) ejaculations. The information, though, was presenting itself as though I were on a boat close to shore: I knew that a beach was just beyond the fog bank in front of me. I just couldn't see it.

My body stayed with its climax, milking every last drop of Connor's orgasm as my tongue was luxuriously bathing in the efforts of its own.

As I began to descend from that hedonic acme on Mt. Olympus to mere mortal sensations, I realized that I still had his cock head in my mouth. It was now soft and typically sized as I laved it with my tongue, the tanginess of his cum tickling every corner of my mouth.

After just a few moments of this tongue lashing a strange, rare — in my experience at least, broad as it may be — thing happened: His cock began to grow!

If he hadn't said anything about this earlier, I would have just chalked it up to my currently dismal ability to sense anything not selfishly climax related.

Could he be getting hard again this soon after coming?

I pulled him out of my mouth, making sure to maintain the mouthful of cum I had and not to spill any of it.

"Is this for real?" I questioned as clearly as one can muster with a mouthful of anything. (The consonants are the worst. (It's really hard to articulate s, th, f and r while trying to keep a liquid in your mouth from spilling out.)

"Yeah, Patrice," he said, "as I said, I have the strange ability to have orgasms one right after another. A few women I've known think it's great, but at best, most think they're not satisfying me. And many more are just not that interested after she and I have both climaxed."

I shook my head, but looked up at him expectantly.

"More?" I managed to say, nodding my head.

"You ready?" he asked.

I nodded emphatically.

Let's face it, if one orgasm's worth of cum is good, two is twice so, right?

By now he was fully hard and began to thrust forward, pressing his cock head back into my mouth.

As I took him in, making sure to keep as tight a liplock as I could on his cock, I began to wonder how long this second-in-a-row orgasm would take. I doubted it would be quick. I'd never met a guy who could follow up an orgasm with another almost immediately afterwards.

So it more than surprised me when not more than two minutes later his body was obviously getting ready for another climax. How could that be, I wondered? Is this even possible? Maybe he'd go through the motions but not ejaculate much, if any at all.

This line of reasoning proved to be utterly incorrect for he then carefully took his dick in his hand and pulled it out, slowly pulling the thing forward and backward. It seemed that he wanted to shoot again into my cum-filled mouth, but this time he wanted to watch.

I was OK with that. I often wished I could watch and on more than a few occasions I had had guys aligned just right so I could see it in a mirror. If I hadn't been ridiculously assiduous in making sure phones, cameras or other recording devices were forbidden in every one of my casual cum encounters, I think I would have liked to watch my pearly whites awash in a sea of similarly described semen. I imagined myself at 85 and the fun in watching video of innumerable hard-ons spewing into my young(er) mouth.

Anyway, Connor only needed five or six tugs on that surprisingly normal looking cock of his as it began to spew more cum in my mouth. These spurts were just as forceful as the earlier set and there were probably as many of them too.

I say probably because by the second or third volley I had embarked on a massive orgasm of my own, partly caused by just thinking about this cock with superhuman powers that I was having the pleasure of pleasuring.

What a fortuitous night. I was suddenly so glad that things had befallen me the way they had at Sal's place. My orgasm lasted what seemed like a minute or two, although it was surely well under that length. The feeling though was just as exciting as the one I'd had when he first climaxed — just a few minutes ago.

How did he do that?

He looked down as my eyes were slowly opening and starting to focus. I looked up to see a look of gratitude on his face. I hoped he saw the same on mine. I tried to say thank you and he obviously understood.

"You don't need to thank me, Patrice. That was great. Both were great. I think some people are put off by his or her partner masturbating when they're together."

After swishing his cum all around my mouth, I began to play with it as he was speaking. I let it start to drool down my chin, first on one side then on the other.

"I hope that you're satisfied with the seeds of my labor," he said, clearly amused at his punny humor.

By now, I had slurped everything back into my mouth and had begun to press the thick white stuff up to my tongue, showing off all the tasty, fun stuff.

"That's so sexy, Patrice. Most women are not into PDCs, public (or in this case, private) displays of cum."

The fun I was having with his two loads was making me even more horny, if that was possible. With cum it's not just the taste and texture, it's also the pervasive aroma, all of which can tend to drive me a little crazy.

Still staring into his eyes, I began to bubble the semen mixture on my lips. Aeration has a way of increasing the volume: More to play with even if the mixture becomes a tad less semen intense.

I continued to look up at him. His expression still seemed to be one of gratitude. I was sure he was enjoying my cum play. I certainly was.

By now I was wet with cum all around my mouth. A part of me wanted to clean myself up. This is a normal reaction for me. Let's face it: Essentially, I was playing with my food, just like a child. Having errant drops of anything on your face is something you're taught not to do as a little child. It's counterintuitive to purposely exhibit it around your face. Plus there's a natural urge when you feel something on your face to take your fingers and wipe it off.

After a while, I'd been playing with his cum since we'd each had our orgasms a couple of minutes ago. My cum play had pushed me beyond horny. I was now getting into climax mode. In the past I had been able to have a climax just playing with cum, but it usually had involved a hard dick somewhere close to my mouth.

Wondering if I could have another spontaneous cum climax, I opened my mouth with the intention of gargling the two loads I had been playing with. I was still focused on his expression when two things happened, one immediately after the other.

First, my tongue was extended as I gargled, and I felt a portion of his staff, his again-rigid staff, on my tongue.

So, I was extremely yet delightedly surprised that he was hard again.

But the really big surprise was the feeling of a quick bunch of semen spurts hitting the roof of my mouth, mid-gargle.

He'd now had his third climax in maybe ten or fifteen minutes.

I did a quick sanity check. Was I really feeling his cock spurting again? Again so soon?

Pressing my tongue on the underside of his cock confirmed that it was, indeed, climaxing again.

Yay! Rock on, Connor, you amazing cum machine!

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I stopped mid-gargle, moved my head so that I was facing his abdomen. This let me feel the last several spurts on my already cum laden tongue. In fact, I thought I might have heard one actually make a kerplop sound into the pond of semen from his earlier orgasms.

He was just finishing his spurts and I licked the head to get every drop more that I could. Then, closing my lips, I stuck my tongue out and licked up and down his shaft, a few times on each side. I next moved down to lick his balls, finishing with a long, slow and hard lick from the area below his balls up to the head. There I found a bit more semen and sucked that back with my tongue into my mouth.

The feeling of the volume of the semen from three climaxes from one cock in the time most people take a coffee break, had my mind reeling. Where was a guy like this when you wanted one?

The tastes and smell as well as the quantity caused that certain effect on me and my climactic machinery commenced to do its thing: I was glad I had my mouth closed. My body began to tremble and I started to shake. It was as though I were experiencing my own personal earthquake. Yowzah!

I temporarily went to orgasm nirvana. I felt like I was taking a weeklong vacation there.

When my body finally stopped its shuddering, I realized I was still there on the floor of my living room. And there was a hard-on rubbing softly, slowly and sensuously around my face.

A part of my brain, tried to understand whose hard-on it was. It couldn't be Connor's. He'd just had three orgasms! Could he be hard again?

This was something I needed to find out. It was one thing for him to tell me and then show me: three orgasms in so short a time. But, I had questions. I was curious just how much was in my mouth. I knew from experience that I'd had the ejaculations of more than twenty guys in my mouth, but that was a half-hearted attempt to see if I could have every guy in the place shoot in my mouth at one time. It turned out that at least one or two guys partially missed my mouth and a few had a hard time coming under pressure!

Ergo, an exact number was never determined.

But now with all the saliva mixed in with Connor's cum I just wanted to know what was there.

I unfolded my legs, stiffly arose, mouth still closed, and walked into my kitchen. I found an eight-ounce glass measuring cup. When I returned to the living room, Connor was sitting on the sofa, caressing himself with his stiffy pointing up at the ceiling. Sadly, probably not a common picture in most married households. I thought it was awesome.

Sitting down next to him, I gave him a peck — lips still closed — and I held up the glass to my chin. Then I slowly and as sexily as possible let the gooey mixture in my mouth flow into the measuring cup.

I noticed that Connor increased the rate down in his personal playground. Eventually the controlled, slow-drip stuff from my mouth finished oozing. I then stuck out my tongue and used my finger to slide anything left on it into the glass cup.

"Wow, I knew there was a lot in my mouth, but I'm still impressed. It's so pretty, isn't it?" I held it up to the light. "Look at all that cum."

"And saliva," Connor added.

"And saliva," I agreed. "Nevertheless, what a treat."

"You were so sexy. Your cum play was just like in porn. I've never been with a woman who did so much of that. Plus you were obviously enjoying it. I could come again, if you like."

I looked at him, a quizzical expression on my face.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. For someone like yourself, my balls have the gift that just keeps giving."

"How long can you keep this up? I mean, don't you have some limit where your semen supply is tapped out for at least a while?"

He explained that since he became an adult he'd cut down on his masturbation. When he was a teenager he'd jerk off a half-dozen times almost every day. Now, though, he'd cut back and usually only did it three or four times a day, only occasionally more frequently. I wanted to ask what he did with all the cum, but it seemed a bit crass. He lived in the Midwest. I was out here in Washington. It wasn't like I could just pop over for a quick load.

I asked him about women he dated and although he'd gone out with a fair number of nice women, the sex had been in the main disappointing. Mostly this was due to his extraordinary ability which seemed to drive his libido. And his overactive libido often drove women away.

Just the concept of a man who could come so often was mind-boggling to me. It was like he was a fantasy, a superhuman set of balls. [Sigh.]

He told me he'd met a woman who was going through a divorce and they were compatible. She liked to fuck a lot and their chemistry was good. Unfortunately, after a while her husband agreed to counseling so they stopped seeing each other.

But after more than a year with no contact, she called him out of the blue and told him her divorce was back on the front burner. She asked him if she could see him again when she was legally single and he said yes. If everything worked out, he was hoping to move to Chicago to be with her in five or six months.

Of course, I thought about being with him, given our chemistry that night, but he sounded so in love, I just allowed the thought to dissipate. No sense crying over what might have been — especially if it never was the plan in the first place. (And, apologies for the mixed metaphor.) I was remaining focused on the evening, Connor's cock and the cum that had bathed my mouth sitting in the very unsexy measuring glass in front of me.

I cozied up to Connor and held the measuring glass up for him to see.

"I know most women feel like semen is just a messy byproduct of sex, just like our own juices are. But I look at this stuff and think: Where can I get more? That's perverted, I know, but I discovered this about me a few years ago, back when I was living in Chicago."

"Well, now I'm even more disappointed that I fly out early tomorrow morning. It would have been fun to be your semen provider."

"I actually had a guy who kind of did that for me, for a year or so, but it was mostly once a day. There are some of us girls who like to have a steady supply of the stuff."

"Well, if you ever find yourself back in the Midwest and I'm still single..."

"Connor, there are two major 'ifs' in that statement — as enticing as the underlying premise might be."

We shared a sigh, thinking what might have been — or might still, albeit doubtfully, be. He looked at his phone and announced that it was so late he'd have just enough time to get back to his place, pack and schlep back to SeaTac for his early morning flight.