After the Crash

"So I held him there. I wasn't through coming yet. After no time at all he began to get soft, but that was fine with me. I was enjoying the sticky white cum on my tongue. My body was still shaking as I slowly released his cock from my mouth. After another minute or so I began to swish the cum around my mouth, enjoying the texture and savoring the unique male taste. I wasn't even thinking about playing with it. I just loved the sensuality of it, feeling as though every nerve in my body were somehow passing through my lips and tongue, then making a connection to my clit. Eventually I just swallowed in one very loud gulp. Then I sat back on the chair and slowly opened my eyes."

"After such a long time without any sex, Patrice, I can't imagine what that must have been like for you."

"I wasn't really thinking about anything but the warm feelings my body was enjoying. I'd been so into sucking off Saul and enjoying the delightful load of cum he gave me, that I was surprised to see Jeff, Lou and Steven sitting down. I expected that they'd be queuing up for blowjobs of their own. But none of them could wait. All three of them had their hands on their dicks, but they were all soft. I looked at them and said, 'No one wants a blowjob, to have me get your hard-on deep into my throat?' Well, it turns out that all three of them had been busy while I'd been preoccupied with Saul's cock and my orgasms. They'd all masturbated and climaxed!"

At this point Patrice found some more precum at the tip of my cock and licked it up, smiling at me. As she was enjoying playing with my dick, I looked down at her long slender body. I enjoyed seeing the way her orb-like breasts moved under my hands, her flat abdomen, her slender, but feminine hips, her mound in her tight panties, and her long and seemingly endless smooth legs.

She continued moaning and occasionally moving her chest up towards my touch and sucking even harder on my cock.

Satisfied that her oral plaything was in a workable state, she returned to her story.

"It surprised me a little that I wasn't even aware of this happening, but I guess I had been quite focused on Saul's cock. Steven's hand was behind his back and he said to me. 'Patrice, it was so hot watching you devour Saul's cock, we couldn't wait.' Then he produced a long-stemmed wine glass with what looked like their ejaculate. Well, believe it or not, just the thought of tasting all of that cum caused another little, but visible, tremor in my body. I reached out and took the glass. Do you know that just holding it under my nose, smelling the pungent aroma of the now-cooling cum from three guys made me more than a little crazy. Without a pause after one long inhale, I brought the glass to my lips, tilted my head back, upended the glass and poured the pearly liquid gold into my mouth. Naturally, this set off another long and amazingly satisfying orgasm."

This last little story had the pleasant effect of making me so aroused that I was almost completely hard. Seeing this, Patrice took the opportunity to move up a little, to put her head directly over my crotch and then put most of my cock in her mouth. Jeez, did that feel good. I was enjoying thinking about her swallowing the cum from the wine glass, seeing and touching her amazing body, and simultaneously feeling my cock hit the back of her mouth.

She looked up at me and then shoved it all the way, her lips closing around the base. Then I felt her tongue lick at the top of my ball sack. My senses went into some sort of overload mode as she continued licking while forcefully moving her head up and down, basically fucking my cock with her mouth and throat.

I don't know how she did it, but she kept going at it for a long time, longer than anyone had ever done that to me. Somehow she was able to rapidly move her head up and down on my cock for I don't know how much time.

What happened next was even more unexpected than anything else that night: I began to come. Again! This had not happened to me in years, but here it was. I began to shoot deep into her throat, beyond the back of her mouth. She somehow knew she would be able to succeed at this and feeling me spurting began a huge orgasm for her as I could see her body tense up and actually shake.

We both continued what we were doing for a bit: having orgasms. Her body coming as I continued to shoot into her mouth. After a bit the climaxes diminished.

She moved her head up, still keeping a tight seal around my cock as she did. Eventually she reached the now-very-sensitive head. Then she gave it a series of little quick licks with her tongue and pulled off, leaving one hand still holding the now almost soft cock.

I smiled down at her and she grinned back at me. Next she slowly arose, adjusted her bra so those oversized breasts were back inside and walked over to the sideboard. I was in awe of her amazing body as it moved with the grace of a dancer, that tight butt and those incredibly long legs maintaining, at least mentally, my post blowjob excitement.

Then she picked up an unused wine glass, came back to the bed and still beaming at me, let the cum again flow over her lips and into the glass. She seemed to enjoy that act itself. Holding it up to the light and staring at the liquid, she said, "I told you it was something I could work with. Don't forget, I'm the woman who's probably swallowed more cum in any one of a number of evenings than most women do in their lifetimes."

"Of course," I responded. "How could I forget?"

She then upended the glass and took the load into her mouth. Her eyes smiled at me as she briefly gargled with it and then blew some cum bubbles. After entertaining both of us with some more playfulness, she swallowed it, having what seemed like another bit of an orgasm.

She then collapsed into my arms. As we were relaxing - I was still amazed at what we had accomplished - she returned to finish the story of Steven, his buddies and the football game.

"The looks on their faces as I swallowed that glass of cum was precious. I'd wish I had a photo."

"I imagine there's more," I said in as nonjudgmental a manner as possible.

"Well, yeah. I won't give you all the details -"

"Why?" I nudged her, "because you think I'll think of you as a slut?"

"You turkey. No, it's just that I don't want this thing we have to be about me telling you all the details of the stuff I'm not terribly proud of."

"I understand."

"Anyway, once the situation had calmed down and the game had been muted, the other two guys asked if I could deepthroat them and all of them said, almost simultaneously, 'Can I see your boobs?'"

"'Only if you'll all give me your cum,' I told them."

"It was agreed. So I took off my top and took off my bra and sucked all of them twice. I think it was number three for Saul. I got complemented on my cocksucking technique and especially on my deepthroating ability."

I was beat and happy and getting really tired. The alcohol, the two orgasms and my trepidation about tomorrow, they'd all piled up and hit me at the same time.

Before conking out, Patrice moved to look at my face. She said, "I can't tell you enough how much I loved the honesty we've shared tonight. But it's one of the things that I'm always worrying about whenever I meet a guy. We'll date. Get to know each other and I'll want to open up to him. There's always this fear that I'll tell him about my past. Then he'll look at me like I'm a piece of offal. And disgusted, he'll leave.

"Or worse. And this plays like a warning video regularly in the back of my mind: This boyfriend and I will be on a date and some guy will keep trying to make eye contact with me all night. My date excuses himself to go to the washroom. Then this guy will come up to me and say, 'I remember you. Who could forget? One night you gave blowjobs to a roomful of guys.' I try to walk away, but then he raises his voice: 'I remember that beauty mark and who could forget that rack. Told me my cock was the biggest you'd ever seen. Couldn't wait to suck it. Next thing I knew it was buried in your throat. You a sword swallower in freak show, slut? No one's ever even come close to doing that! And then you thanked me for coming in your mouth. Three times! So what are you doing tonight?'

"That's what I think about every time I even consider dating again. Or if I ever have kids and somehow one of the other dads in school knew me back then. Maybe he just tells the other parents. But maybe he blackmails me..."

She was trembling as she told me this.

I hugged closer to me, trying to soothe her.

"Patrice, I can't imagine spending the rest of your life with that fear. But we're here together now. It's just the two of us and I'll try to do everything I can to help you. I know I don't have much, but I'm going to do whatever I can to help you."

Hearing her very real fear made me put my issues into perspective too. What if I actually met someone - not Patrice, of course - but someone age appropriate and I wanted to get intimate with her. Then I can't get it up. Not the way I wanted to spend the rest of my life. But it couldn't compare to Patrice's fears. I wasn't constantly concerned that someone might screw up the rest of my life.

For Patrice I could see that never-ending fear. She wasn't exactly Hester Prynne - yet. More like Damocles with that Sword.

She laid back and I wrapped her in my arms even more tightly.

We soon fell asleep like that. As I was nodding off, I was still thinking about removing her lingerie completely, but it seemed like something for another time.

Plus, I had my doctor's appointment early in the morning!

Who knows? Maybe I would be back to my old self again. I was hopeful, but I didn't want to have unrealistic expectations.

Last thing I remember was wishing I could make Patrice's fears disappear.

Coming to the end, Maya stopped her recitation.

"It just ends there," she said. "Not exactly a fancy peroration, huh? Well, it is just the beginning of a journal. So what happened then? What did the doctor do?"

Now she looked at me in a way I'd never seen.

"Patty, you and I are the closest of friends so I'm dumbfounded to discover all of this. Is this really true?"

I looked at her and shrugged. "Well, it was, but, yeah, pretty much."

"How awful for you on one hand. But on the other, jeez, you were such a slut! I have so many questions, I don't know where to begin," she said, still wide eyed.

I just slowly nodded in understanding.

Maya put the journal face-down on the coffee table. Then she said, "Hey, what's this on the back of the last sheet?"

"What?"

"It says 'Right Drawer Bottom Back.' You know for a guy who can take dozens of pages to describe a few hours, he's awfully laconic when it comes to giving directions."

We got up and went back to the den. In the back of the drawer was a thick, legal sized envelope. I pulled out all of the pages. The top document actually was a legal one. Reading it carefully I saw that it was the deed to the house, this house - in my name! Apparently there was no lender. This house was mine.

Under the deed were two more sheets of paper in his handwriting too. The top sheet read:

I've set up a trust to cover everything (insurance, taxes, maintenance) that the house needs for as long as you own it. (BTW, the maintenance includes a cleaning service that will do the whole house three times each week as well as a landscaping company that'll do the same.) It's yours. Keep it or sell it. Keep or sell the furnishings. (There are some landscapes by some of the artists you said you liked. They're in the living room, the den and the master bedroom. They should fetch a nice price.) Keep the money. You told me this was your preferred furniture style. I hope it's to your liking. Mace.

"O - M - G!" Maya said extremely slowly.

I was almost reluctant to turn to the last sheet. I looked at Maya who looked, I'm sure, as shocked as I did. Finally, she said.

"Go on. Let's hear it."

I turned to it and held it so both of us could read it.

Patrice, there's one more surprise too. You'll get it soon. P.S. Oh, and the trust will be sending you a check on the last day of every month for life too. You can arrange to have it deposited into whatever account you wish. Quit your job. Do volunteer work. Write that novel. Travel. You'll never have to work again. P.P.S. And please, sweetheart, if you ever need anything contact me. Mace

I had to sit down. I had been given a gift worth millions of dollars. I couldn't even grasp the phrase, "You'll never have to work again."

I was dumbfounded. I started to seriously hyperventilate again.

Maya saw it. Again she said, "Take deep breaths, remember, Patrice. Try to relax. Deep breaths."

"Yes. Good idea. Deep breaths, yes," I said.

I remember thinking what I had earlier in the evening: a few hours ago I was a 30-ish single woman with not more than a few bucks in the bank. Now, suddenly I owned a home, free and clear, with no additional expenses. A beautiful home with a view of the lake. Free. All mine. The house was so big I could get lost in it.

I needed to make a map.

Maya looked around and shook her head. She said, "He bought you this house? I can't even imagine how much this cost, four or five million? More? Then he buys you all this furniture? The furnishings alone are probably another million. And he's paying you over a hundred thousand bucks a year for life!"

"I know, I know," I replied. Just like Mace had said in his tale: There really wasn't anything I could say.

"You have to tell me more of the story. I mean this is what he wrote about just the first night you spent together. What happened when he went to the doctor the next day? Did he get the treatment? What was the treatment?"

"It's one thing, Maya, to have you read what Mace wrote, but to tell you the whole story - I don't know. I'm disclosing something really personal. In fact, it doesn't just feel like it. It is personal. I've kept it from you and everyone I know for that reason."

"Well, you can't just leave it like this. No one buys someone a beautiful house, one on Mercer Island with a view, and then furnishes the whole thing with high-class furniture and then sets up a trust so she's set for life. He basically gave you ten or twenty million dollars. No one does this for doing nothing. What did you do for him?"

"Maya, I'm sorry. Let me just think about it. I mean, how I feel about telling you."

"To tell you the truth, I'm still shocked at all of this. I'd always had a suspicion that you had some inner thing going on, but I figured you collected butterflies or had an MMOG addiction. Or you hacked into stores to get free bras. Lord knows, with your figure you must go through them like a fish in water.

"Plus, this journal talks about a woman I really didn't know: your over-the-top kinky semen fetish, your love of dick and your ability to deepthroat. I can't imagine what more you could disclose."

I thought about that. She was right that after that first night the story didn't change too much. In another way, though, a year later both of our lives were completely different. I wondered if I could ever explain it. It was awfully personal - for us both.

Mace's generosity still overwhelmed me. It was unfathomable. The way we left things, I just never thought I'd hear from him again. What a year it was!

I know I was still stunned that he had gotten the money to do this. Especially after losing virtually everything in the financial crisis and then his divorce. I didn't think he had enough cash to put gas in his old heap. And his was even older than mine!

How did he afford this? It's one thing to buy someone a piece of jewelry - even for a few thousand of bucks. But, millions? It's like I won the lottery.

"As I said, Maya, let me think about it, OK?" I said. "Why don't we go out for dinner at this place?"

I held up the gift certificate.

"My treat!" I smiled at her. "I'm a millionaire now. The least I can do is take you for a nice meal."

"Well," she said, "it's really Mace's treat, isn't it?"

It was quite dark as we made our way to the front door. That next storm was already doing its thing. That was probably the last bit of sun we'd see for a week or two.

I found the restaurant and had mixed feelings as I gave my keys to the valet. I was embarrassed that he'd have to get in this thing and hoped that it would make it to the parking structure. On the other hand, I now had the resources to get a nice new one.

Maya and I walked in, feeling a little underdressed. I mentioned it to her and, typical of Maya, she just said, "If they don't like, fuck 'em!"

We had a lovely meal with incredible wine. The chef came out personally to check on us, but only us. That was new for me.

When we finished, the host thanked us for coming and asked if everything was satisfactory. We both gushed at how wonderful the meal was.

He smiled sincerely - not with the superciliousness that many of them have in nice restaurants.

"I have this for you, mademoiselle," he said and handed me another envelope.

I opened it:

Patrice, as I said, I can never repay you, but I hope this brings nice memories (and maybe a tingle). My eternal gratitude, Mace

I looked at Maya. We were both confused, but we thanked him. He followed us outside.

"Your friend wanted you to have this," he said, handing me yet another, larger envelope, one with something more than just paper inside.

Slowly pulling up was a car that looked like it was speeding, just coming to stop at the curb.

"Mace," I said to no one in particular. "You always knew how to give me at least a tingle."

"Your car," the host said.

Then he and the valet opened the doors for Maya and me to a shiny new Lamborghini Aventador.