Adventures Unfinished Ch. 02x

I stripped off his sweats. Rob stared at my naked body, of course focusing on my boobs.

Facing him I quickly grabbed the underside of each one with my hands and jostled them up and down a couple times, I said, "Last time you're gonna see these, you shit!"

Classy, huh?

I put on my still kind of damp panties and I looked around for my bra. I couldn't see it anywhere, but I knew my opportunity for a dramatic exit was slipping away. It was not a new or terribly comfortable bra so I decided to leave it — wherever it may have been. I quickly threw on my newly dry — and still toasty warm — clothes and walked out of the living room towards the front door. I wanted to say something more but I'd just had it. I copied the actions of the other woman: I told him to screw himself, stomped to the door and was about to leave.

But something stopped me. There was still one thing I needed to do and it wasn't to try to find that bra. I'd already given up on that and figured she might have tossed it behind a piece of furniture. I really needed to do this. I returned to the living room, picked up the glass with the cum in it. I held it up to the light, swirled it around a little and made a big show of pouring it onto my tongue and letting it ooze into my mouth.

Rob emitted a little groan.

I put down the glass and closed my mouth. I stared into Rob's eyes and bubbled the cum around in my mouth. Then I opened my mouth and showed him the mixture, all aerated and shiny. From the look on his face I could tell my little bit of cum play was having an effect. I couldn't be sure but when I glanced down he was adjusting his pants in the crotch area.

Satisfied that I'd made him uncomfortable, I swallowed with a loud gulp.

"Something else you're not gonna see too," I said.

Earlier in the evening swallowing that cum probably would have given me an orgasm. But the look on Rob's face was possibly even more rewarding.

Then I stomped to the door — my braless breasts pleasantly jiggling — and left, slamming it behind me.

I was tired but wired from the surprising turn of events and decided to stop at a local coffee place that was brimming with people. This was before Jalu had opened. If there'd been another bar I would have loved a drink, but coffee would have to do.

Picking up my drink. I looked around but there wasn't an empty seat in the house. I was going to just take it and have it in my car on the way home. Then I saw an empty chair at a table with one other person at it.

"Would you mind if I joined you? Maybe you can use a new friend," I said before even looking to see the table's sole occupant. "I know I—"

Looking down I saw the same woman who'd been at Rob's place. She looked blue, but she wasn't crying. Two-timing shitheads can do that to you.

"How did you know?" she said as she smiled up at me. She moved her coat over the back of her chair and put her bag in her lap.

I looked at her for a long, pregnant six or seven seconds, more than enough time to begin to feel uncomfortable. She looked back, probably thinking: Why didn't I tell this nut that this seat was taken?

"Well, because I wear a bra whose 'cup size ranges into the middle of the alphabet.' And what woman in her right mind would wish purposely to opt for breasts this big?" I told her opening my coat and quickly sticking out my chest a little. And for me, even a little is actually unnecessary to make it clear how big my bust — my currently braless bust — is.

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

"You were there, at Rob's tonight?" she said.

"Yes," I confessed. "He never told me he was seeing anyone else. When he asked me to go out on the porch I felt terrible, but I thought it would show a little class to tell him I wanted nothing to do with him in private."

For a few uncomfortable moments I wasn't sure how she would react. But then she introduced herself and offered me the chair across from her.

"You were actually in the freezer?" she said, incredulous.

I nodded.

"You realize that we're a joke, right?" she said to me.

"You mean the way we were played by that asshole?"

"Well, yeah, but you're the punch line of a joke."

She proceeded to tell me a joke about a guy who dies and goes to heaven. While waiting in the celestial queue to get in, he starts up a conversation with the guy behind him. They talk for a bit eventually getting around to the cause of their respective demises. The guy in front asks, "How'd you die?" The guy behind him shrugs and says that he froze to death. Then he asks the first guy how he died and he tells him that he died from sheer bliss. The guy behind him asks what he means. The first guy says that he came home one night and thought his wife was having an affair. She denies it, but he runs all over the house anyway, looking for his wife's supposed lover. When he's satisfied that no one's there he sits down and felt overjoyed. The stress of his emotional roller coaster compounded by the physical exertion of his search causes him to have a heart attack and he died there and then. The guy behind him says, "You know, pal, if you'd only looked in the freezer, we might both be alive today!"

I laughed so hard I thought I'd pee myself.

We pleasantly chatted for a half-hour or so. We dumped on Rob for a bit and then got to know a little about each other. It was cathartic for us both.

After we exchanged numbers we both stood up. Being tall and blonde I always get looks when I stand up so she caught me completely off guard: Glaring at me and in a too loud voice she said, "I found this at my ex-boyfriend's house. Look at the size of this thing! You could fit a pair of watermelons in it. Is this yours?"

In her raised hand for all to see was my bra, my middle-of-the-alphabet cup size bra!

She then tossed it to me. I grabbed it, confused at this new turn of events. Just as I was about to begin telling her how embarrassed I was, she gave me a wicked smile, walked around the table, reached up to my shoulder and turned me towards the door. Then, arm-in-arm we walked out of the café.

And that was how I met my friend Maya who at that moment, I assumed, was asleep in one of my other bedrooms.

4. Maya

So there I lay - still in my big luxurious bed, alone, without sex for too long. It was so strange. I had this sudden clarity: It doesn't matter how much money you have or don't have, if you're unhappy, you're unhappy. (A trite, but nevertheless valid, tautology.)

As my thoughts wandered, I remembered some of the maniacal multitudinous cock and cum parties Steven had arranged. It had been years since those ridiculously gonzo days, but some of the memories were etched in my brain. It might have been at Steven's initiation, but I knew that there was something inside of me that wanted those cocks too. Plus, there had been more genteel parties since those Steven days. Mace had even arranged a few just for me.

Let's face it: When you have an itch...

So I was old enough and I'd had enough therapy to know better. Nevertheless, the idea of sucking a bunch of cocks, seeing and tasting all that cum, was always a treat.

Sigh.

I yet again tried to get to sleep. I tried some meditation techniques. I tried clearing my mind of all these insane thoughts. Nothing helped. I could only think about cocks and cum.

Was there some way I could satisfy myself that might get me to fall asleep? Masturbation just never did it for me. Even with a vibrator, pleasuring myself lacked the otherness of the masculine.

Eventually I did start to fall into a peaceful pre-sleep state.

It soon became unfortunately fitful and not long after I drifted off, I woke up. I'd had too much to drink and it was making my sleep restless. I wasn't sick but my mind, unlike my body, was not ready to sleep just yet.

After fighting it for a few minutes more, I decided to go downstairs and simply walk around to explore my new home.

I was surprised to find Maya in the family room with a wine glass in one hand; in the other was Mace's handwritten documentation of my first night with him.

After pouring some for myself (Was the philosophy of drinking more alcohol to dissolve a hangover called "Hair of the Dog"? I never got that. I should google it.) and adding a bit to Maya's almost empty glass I sat down on the sofa next to her. Coincidentally, I had the happy thought that I was now wealthy: I no longer needed to drink cheap wine.

"I'm still a little pissed that for so long you managed to avoid telling me almost anything about the details of your time with Mace, you turkey!" she said. "Or actually anything that would indicate what a wanton woman you are." Then, after assuring herself that I had been dutifully admonished, she continued, "I think I drank too much and couldn't sleep. Then I remembered some of the surprisingly lecherous and downright salacious stuff he'd written.

"Let's see. Here's one little quote: 'Please, please, please come for me. Give me a load of cum. I've got to have it now. Please. I'll do anything you want because I'm an addict. I'll even deep throat you and let you fuck my mouth and throat, if you'll just come in my mouth. Make sure I get to drink it.'

"And then there was this: 'More than a few times I sucked off dozens of guys in the course of an evening and all of them came at least twice, although, to be honest, I didn't exactly suck all of them off. A lot of them just jerked off and came in my mouth — or mouth adjacent. But I drank more loads of cum in one of those evenings than many, if not most, women probably do in their lifetimes.'

"Holy shit, Patrice. Who is this woman? I don't know anyone who's done anything like that. This is slut behavior, plain and simple." She paused, apparently trying hard to understand. I also think she realized that her expressed sentiment had probably hurt me. "I have had a few friends tell me about some experimentation with their boyfriend and another person, a girl usually but not always. But it sounds like you were a real, honest-to-goodness, cock-slut from some 'fictional' dirty story."

The words did hurt, but only temporarily and not deeply. What she said I knew to be true. At that time in my life I had really crossed the Rubicon. I actually did that insane stuff. And I loved every damn minute of it. Those parties put me in orgasm heaven for hours even if I was sticky with semen and exhausted when they were over — and my lips and much of my face caked with dry cum. No one should be able to climax so strongly and for so long. Give me a load of cum and I had an orgasm. Give me lots of them and I became an orgasm assembly line, churning them out like an endless supply of white chocolate chips.

In retrospect I was completely out of control. It shows you how falling in love, if a woman is not careful, can make her a patsy and a fool. (I'd go so far as to call her a sucker, but the pun was just too cheap.) Steven knew what buttons to press and did — and I let him.

Fortunately, there probably weren't that many parties, but I never knew the exact number of cocks I'd sucked.

"Maya, I don't know what to say. I suppose I should be embarrassed about who I was: back then I really was that outrageously wanton woman. But I'm not that woman any longer. I'm not she now."

Or was I still?

I thought about what I'd just told her. Maybe a part of that woman remained, a part that had those desires. Could sex for me have changed so much that I longed for those flagrantly lustful events where I objectified sex so wantonly that it had lost any connection to love? If so, what would my future hold? Could there be a man who'd accept me with my past? Given my age and my biological clock, wasn't it about time to settle down? It wasn't a rhetorical question: Was there even a man out there who'd love the woman I am, regardless of her history?

Maya asked me about Steven and how he could get me to do all oral all the time. I finally did tell her the story and she became rapt in it, not saying a word until I was done — at least with the executive summary.

"So after all that it turns out the guy's a rat, making money off what he created: You. And your addiction to sucking cocks. But then a while later you run into him and you start seeing him again?"

I told her just a little about a few more parties that Steven had arranged for me and how I seemed to want them as much as anyone. I reminded her that it was more than a year before I saw him again. And that time it was just a coincidence. When I told her that it was several years ago, it triggered a memory I'd pushed to the back of my mind. It was that memory that was giving me the feeling of déjà vu when I was trying to fall asleep a little while ago.

I decided not to dredge up that story. Maya was however really enjoying my assorted tales of lust. I still knew I would not sleep any time soon.

"At some point, you said something about three things you can do that men find fascinating," Maya said to me.

"I don't recall— Oh, you mean that men find 'mesmerizing'. Yeah, that's right. Maybe even four."

"Yeah," she smiled back. "I guess that's what you said. Your sexual activities... I don't know how you could do all those things and enjoy them so much. From what you've told me it sounds like you've had more orgasms just since you moved to Seattle than I've had in my entire life."

Considering her remark made me think of my orgasmic history. It was true that I'd had countless orgasms. And I'd given men the same. In fact, they had helped me to have most of those countless orgasms.

When I thought about it, sex was surely too prominent a factor in my life activities.

Maybe now that I was wealthy, I thought to myself, I should get back into therapy and try to address my wanton ways. How else was I ever going to meet a man, one man, with whom I'd be happy and find love? It was definitely something I needed to deal with.

For the nonce, however, I was still grasping my new situation and thinking about my more immediate future. I wondered if I'd ever arrange for my own get-togethers, parties where I'd have men do what I wanted them to do. That sounded so wrong to me, both sexy and sexist, but nevertheless wrong.

In the past I'd always had a friend, a guy friend, arrange for these sexually focused events. Then that got me thinking about why and what and how. Ugh.

Yeah, back into therapy would be good.

"Patrice, what happened to you?" Maya was asking me. "You were somewhere else? You OK?"

"Oh, huh, yeah," I said. "Sorry. You're right, I did. I mean, I was." I took a deep breath. "Let me see, OK. You know what the word mesmerize means?"

"Yeah, I guess, it's like hypnotization. It's something you become fascinated with, right?"

"There was actually a guy named Mesmer who in the first half of the nineteenth century did research on 'animal magnetism.' But his research was the basis for hypnotism."

First, Maya teased me about oversharing. Then she asked me to just share one of these things with her. I agreed. I didn't want to go into too much personal detail, but I thought I'd tell her about the one that was sort of an add-on, number four.

5. Clive

It began with Clive, a guy I became friends with in Chicago, a year or so after I stopped seeing Steven. He knew about my sexual tastes, having been to a few of my parties. One day we were at his place, naturally talking about sex.

Every time we'd get together he'd want me to give him a blowjob. Or two, sometimes more. But he never wanted to come from the blowjob. He always wanted to masturbate into my mouth. I remember asking him why and he said that he loved watching himself shoot his cum in my mouth. He told me that he enjoyed watching the gleeful, playful look on my face while I sucked his cock and the joyfully happy look I had on my face when my climaxes would ensue.

I got it, of course. He was like so many other guys who'd seen it in porn and then wanted their woman to do it.

In the middle of the story, I went off on a tangent about having a cock shooting off at you.

It's a strange thing, you know, facing all these cock heads. They're all basically the same. They have the same function. The same glands support them. But having more than one of them — even if you're familiar with their owners — they essentially become little machines that spit semen at you. The guy kind of fades into the background as your focus is on getting fed semen.

At this, Maya made a faux gagging motion. The thing I was trying to tell her was understandable to me, of course. But I tried to explain it to her.

You see, it's almost like you're a baby bird in a nest and the cock is the mother bird coming home with your food. You sit there, open your mouth, wait for the expected ejaculation and you get your dollop of semen. Then you enjoy that and wait for the next one.

It's really a small amount of liquid. I think I read somewhere that the average ejaculation is less than five or six milliliters. That's like a teaspoon. Add to that the fact that guys are not the best aimers—

But don't get me started on bukkake. Although I've had some fun getting plastered with dozens of guys coming all over my face, in general I think bukkake is just men abasing women. In my mind it's one thing to enjoy the taste of semen and even to play with it.

And, yeah, I'll admit that sometimes feeling it when it's warm on your face is kind of exciting, plus it intensifies the aroma of course. While it's still wet it can feel sexy rubbing it around your mouth and face, both places that have lots of nerve endings.

That's an occasional thing, though, and only when I want it. It's another thing to have men essentially put their label on you, like they're marking their territory. It's hard for me to explain but most of the time it's not my thing.

Plus, you waste all that cum. Even if you try to scoop it up, you never get all of it.

OK. I think my tangent is about through, at least for now. Back to our regularly scheduled programming.

So, with Clive we actually did stuff, like going to the theater, movies, even some dinners. He was fun to be with most of the time. Not terribly possessive.

I remember I asked him about his tastes, you know, his personal fantasies and the other things that excited him. I figured there had to be more than simply jerking off in my mouth.

He asked me if I really wanted to know. I said I did and he picked up a remote for a display on the wall. After he tuned it to the proper input he showed me a video he'd made. It was a compilation of parts of scenes from a ton of porn videos.

What was unique about it was that all the scenes were of women ingesting semen. Most of the clips had the women drinking large quantities of it from a glass or a bowl. Some had them licking it or sucking it up from a plate. But it was cut so that there was no sex and almost no nudity. There were almost no penises or genitals at all. In some scenes the woman might have been topless, but all you could see of the women was from the neck up as they swallowed glass after glass of what seemed to be cum. Some of the glasses must have had the semen from at least fifty guys. (In my experience I always figured that somewhere around sixty or seventy shots of cum was about an eight-ounce glass. Roughly speaking.)

Maya asked me why Clive did it. I told her it was a good question, but it was a woman's kind of question. Of the men with whom I'd talked about it, mostly they just shrugged.

They understood: A woman who loves semen is a woman who will love to give them a blowjob and swallow their cum.

Many men get excited by looking at a woman who likes semen. It doesn't even matter if it's their semen. The men who like to watch find it stimulating to see a woman enjoying semen. (Of course, naturally there are guys who like to see a woman drinking it who doesn't enjoy it. But that's a different mindset completely.)