Never Again

Authors Note: This and future stories to come are true accounts from my wife's previous experiences. She has been very open over the years in sharing details about previous relationships and specific encounters. While never told as salacious stories (as mine are here), over many conversations I have gathered and mentally cataloged a great deal of detail about her past sexual encounters that would shock her if she knew I remembered. In fact, I often tease additional details by feigning to not know/remember about specific situations and probing into new aspects of what happened. The material history of the stories are true. The specific accounts and material details of those accounts are also true and, as best possible, participants involved, and their involvement is faithfully represented. Key details (e.g., the pendant, wearing shoes while naked, how she swallowed, what she did that night, her first unaided orgasm, etc.) are spot on true per her account. But, I've taken creative liberty to recreate my own perception of how it happened. These days my wife is a devoted, monogamous soccer mom, prim and proper in every way. These stories, while titillating to me, are often not fond memories for her.

This is the first in a series of stories on her life. This is the second writing, adjusted for writing style comments shared with me and to provide better context for other stories to come. Some names have been changed to ensure anonymity.

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Mike laid on his bed, his shirt still on but pulled up and bunched underneath his chin revealing well-toned pecs with a dusting of kinky black hair. A round pendant reminding him to always make righteous choices was attached to a silver chain around his neck and rested on his chest just below the hem of his shirt. His basketball shorts and underwear lay on the floor, but he still wore a pair of athletic running shoes as if sporting some clothing helped him retain his virtue.

I met Mike on my first day at the new church I attended. It was a singles congregation in a college town. Mike was the photographer, a role I later learned he relished for the opportunities it presented to meet every new member, particularly the new girls. I hadn't met a person who didn't know Mike and he was hard to forget as the only black man in the congregation. He was seven years older than me, handsome, confident and charismatic. If his plan was to snag the new young girls it had worked - he snagged me. The mutual attraction was obvious and we clicked socially from the beginning. In almost no time started getting close to one another, then he would push me away claiming I was too young then the cycle would repeat. I was used to attracting the attention of boys - this "you are too young" tactic drove me crazy and increased my determination to win his affection.

Mike never stopped claiming I was too young, but we began dating anyway. He constantly struggled to control his weakness for women. Our shared religious beliefs forbid sexual relations before marriage. It was a value I believed in too, but I had sex hundreds of times with previous boys and I accepted it was a value I needed to improve upon. Mike, though, tortured himself with the same belief. In his mind there were certain things he could do and still be compliant with the commandment; I thought it was hypocritical, he thought it was virtuous.

I was almost 19 years old and in my second semester in college. I was the first to attend college in my family with aspirations to become a nurse. My parents both had low paying hourly jobs with no ability to financially assist me, so I worked part time at a family restaurant to cover school and housing expenses. I shared an apartment with my best friend of almost 10 years which just happened to be across the street from Mike. We had moved in together right after high school graduation to escape the oppression all teenagers feel. My roommate needed room from parents who controlled her every move. I needed freedom from the responsibility of often feeling like the only adult in the home and having to play "mom" to three siblings. I was a great student at school and a hard worker at any job I undertook. I attended church every week and always felt the pull to be better. I didn't drink, smoke, or swear. I was by just about every measure a "good girl", but boys had always been my weakness.

And so here I was completely naked, just having licked and sucked on Mike's nipples, now slowly kissing and licking my way down to his chiseled belly, crouched on the bed between his legs. Mike was a personal trainer (something I considered a hobby more than a serious career), so he was fit and fine. He had these love muscles (my term) that extended from both sides of his abdomen down towards his crotch like road signs pointing me in the right direction; I loved those things. His stiff penis was pressing up against me and pre-cum oozed from its tip, wetting the bottom of my left boob. I moved my body, positioning his thick head in line with my cleavage, then slid down while flexing my shoulders and squeezing him between my breasts until he bumped up against my chin.

There was something about playing with a black man that turned me on in ways I hadn't experienced before. I loved his lips, just a bit thicker than other boys I had kissed. And he had a different smell; it wasn't particularly pleasant or unpleasant for that matter, but mere scent made me moist. It was the same for Mike. He loved having me lay naked on him, the contrast of my white skin and blonde hair against his dark features made him feel powerful, he once told me. He was dominant and controlling, behavior that I so often disliked, but which somehow drew me to him like the proverbial moth to the flame; maybe he was the strong father figure that I never had, who knows. When I would arrive at his apartment we would go to his room out of sight from his roommate where I would fully undress - that was his rule.

Mike scooted down the bed until his butt reached the edge then raised up on his elbows for a better view. I climbed off the bed and knelt on the ground between his legs, pressing my hands to the inside of his thighs and pushing out. Mike complied and spread his legs wide, lifting his right foot and resting his shoe on a nearby desk.

We had yet to have sex, part of Mike's effort to retain his virtue, but we had done something like this at least two dozen times. I would tease Mike as long possible and made a point to never touch his penis until the end, or until he forced me to. I pulled my hair back into a pony tail and tied it using a scrunchy I kept around my wrist - Mike didn't like hair in the way of his view.

I thought his penis was magnificent. A thick ridge ran down the bottom of his shaft, over his balls, then led right down to his anus as though he were two different halves that were molded together. I moved close, extended my tongue and started at the base of his penis, licking down the line over his scrotum until I reached the bottom of his balls. Going down on him wasn't my favorite thing to do but it was just about all he allowed us to do, aside from occasionally fingering me or sticking some object in me. Knowing it excited him, excited me. I have always been a pleaser and it was to the point I would sacrifice my own pleasure for his, something I sensed was unhealthy but unable to restrain.

I cupped his balls with my right hand, then opened wide and gently sucked, taking one ball into my mouth, then switching to the other.

"Suck my ass!" Mike said. He didn't want to have sex, but he wanted me to do every nasty thing possible outside of sex. He was the first man I performed oral sex with, and that only happened because he had pushed my head down until I did. Now it was a routine performed every time I visited him. He asked me to suck his ass before, but I never complied and unlike oral sex he never forced it. To be honest, I wasn't sure what he even meant by that and wasn't terribly interested in finding out. I usually just put him in my mouth and stroked him with my mouth and hand, distracting him from the request. Just 15 minutes ago I was begging for sex only to be rebuffed with his hands on either side of my head directing me down his body. Always looking for a new way to get him inside me, I considered relenting.

I moved from his balls and traced the line with my tongue, this time (for the first time) heading further down until the line ended. Still resting on his elbows, he gritted his teeth, and grabbed the sheets in tightly balled into fists.

Wow, what was that? I had no idea it would cause that response. Blood rushed to my clitoris and moisture flooded my lips in a wave. Who knew one's pleasure could be so tightly connected to another's? Sucking ass just seemed so wrong, doubly so given my hyper sensitivity about sanitation. But, Mike is meticulously clean, I reasoned, and I did want to have sex with him. Was this too high a price to pay? Undecided, I ran my tongue back up the line over his balls, then repeated back down, again my tongue touching the end of his line.

How bad could it be? I continued down until the tip of my tongue was touching his anus. I hooked my tongue on the edge of his anus and pulled up, snagging briefly before sliding up his line ever so slightly. He threw his head back and growled.

His response made me ache more than ever; I had never seen him so wound up, almost an out-of-body experience. I reached for his penis with my hand and felt it jerk at my touch. My fingers gently wrapped around him, my forefinger and thumb not quite able to touch around his rod. I moved my tongue back down and snagged him a second time; he responded again with a growl. Ugh, I needed to cum! With my free hand I gently pinched my clitoris between the sides my middle and forefinger, gently flicking them back and forth, my little girl 'penis' becoming more engorged and sensitive with each touch. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and with renewed determination moved my tongue back to the crevice of his anus, this time pushing my face closer and extending my tongue with force this time, but unable to push through his sphincter.

Mike was on fire. He dropped from his elbows and laid on his back. I pulled back away, unsure of his reaction. He lifted his legs up and back as though he was in stirrups. His arms reached under his thighs and each hand grabbed a butt cheek, pulling them back and stretching his sphincter wide. His left shoe caught me in the back of the head and pulled me back down.

"Tongue my ass and I'll hit that pussy." His tone was some mix of promise and demand.

Hesitant I moved in and started licking the line from his anus up to his balls, but he impatiently grabbed my pony tail and pulled me back down, then returned to his cheek and pulled it out again. I moved in slowly extending my tongue to the bottom of his line and licked down from the top of his anus to the bottom, then licked back up. That wasn't too bad, it tasted like the Axe body soap he used - the man showered probably three times a day.

My courage renewed (or my inhibitions squashed) I went back in, resting my tongue against his anus, then flexed to stiffen the muscle and began to push. This time his sphincter welcomed my wet, warm licker, a quarter inch or so slipping into him returning a silky-smooth sensation as I pressed into the sides of his hole. A growling noise rumbled through him, seemingly emanating from his core. His reaction shook me a bit. I held briefly, then pulled back out and licked up his line again.

"Nah, nah, nah. Back in...again."

Back down, I flexed my tongue and pushed gently in once more. His legs and arms began to twitch with muscle contractions clearly beyond his control. Encouraged by the newfound power I pushed harder, this time wriggling my tongue with a new determination to please him, pushing deeper inside.

"Don't be a fucking tease, bitch! You not a virgin, you know how to fuck. In and out, tongue fuck my ass!"

I hated the "F" word - it made me cringe when I heard it used in casual conversation. And ordinarily anyone calling me a "B" word crush me. But Mike transformed into his inner spirit animal when we got physical, it was something we had discussed at length. He always apologized afterword's, but explained I made him lose control like no other. In hindsight, probably hogwash, but I liked the explanation so the rough words coming the man I wanted to please added fuel to my fire, making me ache and increasing my determination to finish the job. I tensed, tightening my tongue as I moaned, pulled out then pushed back in but harder this time, wriggling and pushing deeper than before. A wave of contractions gripped my thighs (for the record, the first and only orgasm I've ever had without being touched by myself or another) I moved both hands to his butt and helped spread him even further. My tongue withdrew, then slammed back in pushing, twisting and turning for seconds, each motion drilling further until my stretched tongue slid deep inside his crack, my lips pressed in a kiss with his anus. My senses were overwhelmed to the point of near ecstasy, the smooth texture against my tongue writhing inside of him like a snake, the smell of sweat and saliva from his penis and balls filling my nostrils, his throaty growls echoing from the walls and his every muscle quivering uncontrollably.

Is this what it was like to be a man during sex? I felt powerful and in control. I rapidly pulled my tongue back, then pushed back in. I'm fucking him now and he loves it. I love it.

His penis started twitching uncontrollably and I knew what that meant. I pulled my tongue back and looked up at him, "Please have sex with me, I need to be pounded!"

My pleading was ignored. Sweat covering his forehead and nose, he simply shook his head, "Finish me, Amber".

My first blow job ever was with Mike. I didn't know what to do, but he wasn't shy about giving me instructions. When it came time for his orgasm he just grabbed my head and held me in place. That's when I learned to swallow. He would say he raised me right, but in my naivete I never knew girls did blow jobs without swallowing.

That's what he means when he says, "finish me". He doesn't like condoms, he doesn't like doing extra laundry, and he doesn't like a mess. It was salty and bitter, not something I loved, but I didn't know any different and always did so willingly. I moved around the side of the bed to give the bend in his penis a more natural path down my throat. His fat, swollen head pushed into my mouth then held still. I waited, then as expected, he leaned over, propping himself on only his right elbow and grabbed a fist full of my hair in his left hand.

"I'll pound you, open wide...imma fuck your mouth."

Another oddity with Mike, he spoke perfect English and only resorted to using slang like "imma" when he was around other black friends (of which there were few here) or when he was using me to please him. He moved his feet to get more leverage, held my head in place with his left hand, and then began to thrust his hips up and down. Slow, short strokes at first, with each stroke getting progressively longer and faster. He wasn't that long, maybe six inches at best, but he was thick. I naturally have a pretty weak gag reflex and I've learned to manage it well since being with Mike, but he was intent on pushing me to the limit. It was uncomfortable, it always was. And it usually left me with a bit of a sore throat. The reward, though, was when he exploded I would rub my clitoris and explode right along with him -- if I didn't I would typically leave without any release.

His thick head ran along my tongue, the tip pushing against the back of my throat, then finally into my throat. His thrusts were forceful now, his balls slapping against my face. With each retreat I could taste more of the salty pre-cum dripping in my mouth. His thrusts pulled back from my throat - they were much faster now, but short and quick. He always wanted his cum to fill my mouth; he wanted me to taste it. The taste isn't for me, but I certainly wasn't repulsed by his salty, somewhat bitter injections.

Mike was a long orgasm. My previous boyfriend could shoot a load halfway across a room and be out of ammunition after three or four shots. Mike didn't shoot so much as he dribbled. He would squirt eight or nine times, a small dose each time, with initial loads separated by two or three seconds, the final loads taking as many as 10 seconds to complete. It always took 30 seconds or more for me to take it all.

He laid back on the bed groaning loudly, put his fingers around the base of his penis and began squeezing the first load into my mouth. He let loose with the tip just between my lips, then ran his fingers from the base of his penis towards my mouth squeezing every drop in. His hand pulled back for the next load, then he pushed my head down, using his thick rod like a plunger as if to shove every drop down my throat.

That was my cue, my hand rubbing my clitoris quickly as I exploded almost in unison with his penis entering my throat, uttering a muffled scream each time I convulsed.

There was a knock on the bedroom door, "You okay in there?" His roommate was Afu, a big Samoan who played football for the University. I knew better than to be quiet; Mike liked me to make noise and I happen to be a bit of an exhibitionist, so the performance comes natural to me.

"We'll be down in a minute, Amber is just finishing up."

I don't think Afu knew exactly what that meant, but it didn't take a genius to know I was screaming in pleasure and something was muffling my screams. You could hear every footstep Afu took upstairs and I didn't hear a sound; no question he was still standing by the door listening. That only made me orgasm harder and louder until Mike finally finished his last load.

I tilted my head up and looked Mike in the eye as I started to pull up, my lips still etched with a pale pink lipstick and stretched wide with his dark black penis which seemed to grow inch by inch as it exited my mouth. He smiled and put his hands behind his head as he watched the show. I paused, leaving the tip between my lips, my cheeks sucked inward as I pulled any remaining semen from his hole.

"How'd I do?" I asked with a twinkle in my eyes.

"So good." I believed him, there was no mistaking that look of contentment.

"I'm going to sit on this fat dick so you can pound me." This was the payoff, finally some leverage. It wasn't the horrible experience I worried it would be. To the contrary, I had an amazing orgasm. Having finally met his request I was confident in my position to assert my rights. Hey, I even threw in a bad word to break down his resistance.

"Amber, I already pounded yo shit. I pounded that beautiful mouf, I pounded yo sweet froat, I fuckin pounded yo tongue deep in my silky black ass. Grab my stick and I fuck you wid dat, but you too young to be on my dick." I was speechless, he wasn't going to do it. By stick he meant the smooth martial arts pole that he watched me masturbate with a few weeks before (his suggestion, of course). Even without sex, I knew there was nothing more to offer on this night. Mike wouldn't put his lips near mine given where my mouth had been, and he had no desire to cuddle. He was done, he was tired, and it was time for me to walk home to my apartment across the street.

There was a cruel indignity to the walk home. I said goodbye to Afu as I walked out the door, unable to make eye contact. That's it, the last straw. I wasn't doing that again - I've made that same promise to myself more than once, only to renege. Not this time, though. At least I think so.