Over Cum Addiction

I know some women would think some of these physical traits desirable. But finding clothes when you have some parts of your body that don't match other parts is a pain. My breasts often have me looking for tops for plus sized women. Small hips require me to find pants in misses or talls or even in the men's. And then there's the inseam. It's all a pain. There's a local used clothing store near where I live and they have an odd, but frequently accommodating selection. Plus, I do a lot of shopping online with stores that make it easy to return stuff!

But with the heat of the fireplace - and the little extra added to the wine - I simply had to take off my big - and purposely - baggy sweater. It was only after I pulled it over my head, with my arms up in the air that I remembered what I had on under it. The ribbed cotton knit sweater kept me warm by hugging my curves. With my arms up, my oversized breasts looked like two extremely large grapefruits - some had referred to them as melons - had been stuck under my sweater, the curves of each unmistakable. The slightly open knit did nothing make my torso less eye catching! I was glad I'd worn a lined bra.

Suddenly four pairs of eyes were working very hard not to stare at my chest. I was going to say something, possibly lowering the tension, but I just swigged some more of my wine.

Then Steven said, "Just remember that the wine is now heavily fortified. Don't go guzzling this stuff. It'll set you on your ass in no time. It tastes so good, but its strength is deceptive. Kind of like Long Island iced tea."

OK. Important safety tip. I needed to remember how strong fortified mulled wine can be before guzzling my entire second glass.

After ten or fifteen minutes of "where do you work?" and "what do you do?" and "where are you from?" discussions, I was still uncomfortably aware of my chest still being one of the major visual focal points for the four of them. But as there was nothing to do about it and I wasn't planning on going out in this weather anytime soon, I just sat there trying to perform the impossible feat of looking small or even average breasted and inconspicuous. Impossible, because even though you think that by bending your head down a little and by hunching your shoulders your breasts are less overtly "out there," the men around you, and frequently the women too, are saying to themselves, "What a rack!"

At some point I excused myself. Having nearly finished my third glass of that enhanced wine, with my head spinning I needed to take a quick trip to the bathroom.

Upon my return the ambience had changed dramatically as the alcohol had put everyone in a comfortable and almost celebratory mood. But just a few minutes after I sat down, the three guys topped up their glasses, got up and began to go downstairs to the den to watch a live game from the East Coast.

As they were leaving Steven called out, "Dweeb and maybe a friend of his might come by, Patrice. Just send them downstairs."

I remembered Daryl (AKA Dweeb) from when Steven and I used to date. He was an always cheerful, very tall, African American who worked at Steven's office. I hoped Steven had not mentioned anything about me to him, but I was probably being naïve in that hope.

As they were walking down the stairs, I thanked them again for going out in the freezing, awful weather to try to help me start my car.

Steven yelled back, "Now you owe us!"

As I had learned, with Steven there was always an angle. What did I ever see in this guy? That was a rhetorical question, of course. He'd had an effect on me that changed my life. Enough said.

Now feeling a little chilly, I grabbed my sweater and pulled it around my shoulders, covering up my chest as well.

It was then just Abby and I. Nary a Y chromosome in sight. Just two, newly met, strangers who shared very little except for the coincidence of this stormy night.

We began to chat, though, and found that we both were soon to be thirty and neither of us had been married. She told me that she liked Owen, but they'd only begun to get to know each other. She asked about Steven and me. I told her we were ancient history and had not seen each other in a couple of years.

"It seems that you two were close," Abby said.

"Yeah," I hedged, "but it didn't work out."

"I know how that is. Guys can be all sweet and loving and then suddenly they change."

Nodding my head in agreement and then with a big sigh I said, "You got that right. Suddenly they change."

"I mean, I don't want you to repeat this..."

I shook my head and gave her a my-lips-are-sealed look.

"...but Owen, well. He's very considerate and kind. He treats me with respect. And he's a good lover. Most of the time. Then he'll want me to do something... It's just weird."

With that intriguing thought, she said nothing.

"Abby, you can't just say that and leave it hanging out there. What do you mean?"

"Boy, the wine is good. Huh?"

"Abby, answer my question. What do you mean 'do something'? Like what?"

"Well, he really likes blowjobs."

"OK. Every guy likes blowjobs. I even like giving blowjobs. So?"

"Um, sometimes he'll want to climax that way and, well, he'll tell me not to swallow it yet. Then he'll want me to keep the semen in my mouth and show it to him. You know, like it's a big deal."

Having more than a little experience with what is so whimsically known as "cum play," I wanted to tell her all about it, how to have fun with it and how to excite those who made it. I could give her a lesson in how to bubble it up to make it frothy. How to drool it slowly down her lower lip and her chin and still slurp it back before it falls off. How to catch it in her hand and how to play with it using her fingers, lips and tongue. I'd done all those things and many more with the cum from lots of guys.

However, here she was speaking openly to me about a guy she liked and I was glad that she and I were bonding. I had lost touch with most of my old girlfriends so it was nice possibly starting to make a new one. Hence, the last thing I wanted to do was to detail my own perverted past. I decided to do something I wish I had done more of when Steven and I were together. I decided to keep my mouth shut.

I simply gave her my best, understanding been-there-done-that nod as she continued.

"I know that men are visual in ways that we women can't understand. It has to do with testosterone. And that's fine. But why would they care about seeing their semen after they ejaculate. Their climax is over. They're done, at least for a little while. For me, I just want to be next to him afterward, to feel close, intimate and loving. And he wants me to put on a show with his semen in my mouth."

Now I figured I could say something supportive or at least understanding.

"Yeah, I know. Guys are very different creatures. In fact... Do you know that I've actually had men follow me around a store just to stare at my chest."

"Well," Abby said, "your breasts must draw a lot of attention. I mean they're so big."

From my reaction to her comment, she must have realized that she hit a sore spot. Trying to take the foot out of her mouth, she went on.

"I'm sorry. That was rude of me. It's just that when you took off your sweater before, well, I haven't seen many women up close with breasts like yours, big and round. They're beautiful. Natural, right?"

"I don't know about beautiful. But, yes, they're all me, stretch marks, sag, and all. And their roundness is at least partly bra-assisted. They are way too big, though. You know, I've met with plastic surgeons several times since I was a teenager to investigate getting a reduction. Each time, though, I talked myself out of it. The expense, the recovery time, the scars... On the other hand I fear they'll be down below my naval when I'm sixty!"

I chuckled a little uncomfortably.

She saw me struggling and self-consciousness on the subject of my breasts and tried to return to the topic at hand. "You were saying about men staring?"

"Oh yeah, so I'm on my way home from work and I stop at the market. This guy seems to be behind me, not close behind, but I notice he's in every aisle I walk down. It was in the summer. It's hot so I'm wearing a thin t-shirt. I've got my hair up and I look like a mess. Then I see that he's followed me out of the store and is just standing there near the entrance, apparently just to continue gawking. I mean, jeez. Get over it. They're just breasts. Mine are way too big, but they're still just breasts. You have them. Half of the people on the planet have them." I stopped to catch my breath. I'd been on a roll. "Oh, and you have such a nice body. You must work out. But while we're on the uncomfortable subject of breasts, I should tell you that yours look to be the ideal size for your body. In fact, you have curves I wish I had."

"Thanks, Patrice. It's nice of you to say that, but I don't think it's so. But you know, I'm fairly satisfied with the way I look in general. There's always stuff I'd like to change, but most people feel that way, at least to some degree."

After this tangential exchange, the conversation - finally - moved away from cum play and my boobs to work, friends, family, living situations, the usual. But Abby seemed determined to return to the topic of sex.

What was it about me? Because I have large breasts do people think that I always want to talk about sex? It must be the boobs. Maybe it's my height? Nah. It's the boobs and the height, both.

"The other day Owen asked me to perform fell- What am I, twelve? He asked me to give him a blowjob. Not unusual, right? But then he asked if I could deep throat him. You know, his, uh, cock."

"Again, Abby, that's something every guy wants. There are not a lot of women, from what I understand, who can do it."

"Well, I gave it a try. It was not a fun experience. The first few times I almost threw up in his crotch. After a while I got a little more comfortable with it in the back of my mouth, but I know I could never go beyond a certain point."

I was surprised at how comfortable we'd become with each other and I was feeling a bit boastful. Plus, I was I still enjoying when she told me that she thought I had nice boobs. Many women don't look at me in a friendly way when they notice my chest. Over the years I've tried to imagine what they were thinking, but it was always an otiose endeavor. As my college roommate used to say, "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke!"

"I can do it," I bragged.

"No. Really? No, you can't," Abby said. "Can you? How?"

And so I explained to Abby how I learned to deep throat a cock. She asked a lot of questions. I had pretty good answers to most of them. She told me that Owen had shown her a bunch of videos of women doing it.

"At first I thought it was done with software or camera angles. But you know," Abby said, "once I realized that these porn women actually deep throated cocks, it was kind of hot watching it. The way the cock got completely into their mouths. Some of them looked like they were on the verge of gagging, but some actually looked OK with it."

"Once you get comfortable with it, it's kind of cool. I used to feel proud of my technique, especially if I was with a guy who I really cared about. It was always a turn on to see the guy's eyes pop open. They always appreciated it."

"I'll bet. It looked so exciting."

"Plus, if you want to play with Owen's cum, he'll make a lot more of it if you deep throat him."

She looked at me like I was crazy. I explained that the tight feeling of the tongue and the pressure of the throat provide more stimulation and that would generally lead to bigger climaxes. Of course, Abby was still on the fence about whether Owen's request for cum play was normal or perverted.

"I'm neither pro nor con on the taste, but it just seems unnatural to play with it," she told me.

Although she'd not seen much of it, Abby wasn't surprised when I told her that there are entire sectors of the porn business dedicated to women getting covered in cum, drinking cum and playing with cum. She then told me about an event that happened when she was a senior in college.

"So the last night of the semester, just before winter break my roommate from sophomore year, Becky, calls me out of the blue and invites me and my then-boyfriend to 'an orgy.' I considered myself worldly - What did I know? - and we went to the little house she rented just off campus. It turned out to just be my boyfriend and I plus two other couples.

"We all did some stuff to each other. Except the guys, of course. They didn't want to be near enough to even come in contact with one another. But it was kind of fun. For a while I was really turned on. I was on my hands and knees sucking Becky's boyfriend's cock, while I'm getting fucked from behind by this other guy. Meanwhile, Becky is down below me licking at my pussy and occasionally at the guy's cock and his balls."

"And here I thought you led a sheltered life."

"It was the only time I ever did anything like that. I've never even thought about it until just now. All this talk about cum and coming. I do remember at one point, I was licking all three of the guys at the same time, but none of them came just then. I think Becky was the cum hound that night. We never talked about it, but she seemed to really get off on it when the guys came. You know, it was very sensual when the three hard-ons were rubbing my cheeks and my lips and tongue.

"But I have to tell you, when I was getting fucked and she was licking me... Well, that made me so crazy hot. I came so hard. At some point I just had to tell both of them to stop. I couldn't take it any more."

The conversation then moved on to our own individual orgasms. This entire discussion was definitely not something I tend to share with strangers, but the alcohol apparently had rapidly made us best friends. Abby told me that her biggest orgasms always happened when her clit was rubbed while she was screwing. That seemed quite normal, the way most women climax. I even remembered with a bit of nostalgia how on occasion I used to enjoy screwing, if things were right and it didn't hurt. She couldn't quite understand how I had big orgasms simply by giving blowjobs, but she didn't seem to be judgmental, so it was OK with me.

We were interrupted by what we thought was a knock at the back door, but with the wind and the stuff getting blown around outside it was hard to know. Gabe came running up the stairs and went into the kitchen. Then Dweeb (Daryl) came in with a very tall and exotic looking guy. Dweeb and I exchanged hellos, how-have-you-beens and then the two of them quickly stomped down the stairs.

Gabe came back from the kitchen with two six-packs of beer and large glass bottle of what looked like more mulled wine. He began to go downstairs when Abby said, "Gabe, can you answer a question?"

He gave her a quick "Gimme a minute," ran downstairs with the libations in his hands, returned empty handed and asked what she wanted.

Abby had clearly relaxed some if not all of one's private boundary issues. This was made clear when she said to Gabe, "Have you ever been deep throated?"

My jaw almost dropped, as did Gabe's. He stammered, "Uh, um, what?"

"Well, Patrice and I were just talking about deep throating and I told her I tried to deep throat Owen. But I couldn't do it. I gagged a lot and almost barfed. Then she told me that she could -"

"Abby!" I almost yelled. "Don't you think that's kind of personal?"

But Abby seemed at the moment to be a force of nature and just blustered on.

"Nah, I just want to know if other women can do it. I mean, you can, right?"

So there it was. It wasn't enough that I was taller than a lot of the guys I meet or had boobs that were bigger than most of the women I see. Those two features were obvious when I walked into a room. No. Abby had to tell the world, or at least Gabe, that I have the ability to deep throat a dick.

I know I turned an even brighter shade of red and looked away from Gabe.

I could tell he was embarrassed too. "Oh, well, that... that... uh. Good, great!"

To my discomfort, Abby remained incorrigibly intransigent. "So, to return to my question: Have you ever been deep throated?"

He looked at her. I looked at her. She was going to get her answer and there was no two ways about it. "Well?"

"Well, only two women have even tried. I'm kind of difficult to... I mean, I usually have trouble getting, um, in a woman," Gabe said.

I'd never quite heard a guy say that and I must say it was provocative.

"But it's not the way you see these porn stars do it," he finished.

"What do you mean?"

"Abby, I'm not comfortable talking about this, you know."

"Oh, come on, Gabe, we're all friends. Just share. OK?"

"You see, those two women couldn't get me into their mouths. I can't imagine how great it would feel just getting the head of my dick into a woman's mouth, much less hitting the back of it. I have a hard time getting a date to just let me fuck her once she sees me undressed, you know, from the waist down."

He was clearly uneasy with the topic, but I could see he was turned on by it too.

"Why?" Abby asked him. "Are you really big?"

"Hey, come on, Abby. You're Owen's girlfriend, right? Maybe you should talk to him about this kind of stuff."

And with that he ran downstairs.

As I began to tell Abby that I was uncomfortable with what she shared with Gabe, there was a roar of laughter, high five sounds, and root-root-roots from downstairs. The five of them were so loud we couldn't help but laugh.

As the gaiety continued I pondered Gabe's apparent dilemma. When he first started telling us about it I thought maybe he was a premature ejaculator. Then I thought that maybe he had a problem getting hard. Because, jeez, a woman can usually get a whole penis in her mouth when a guy's soft. The only other thing it could be was that he had a cock that had a really big circumference. I considered that for a moment and was even more excited. I had seen a few cocks that were extremely thick and each one was a challenge. There's only so far you can open your mouth after all.

Abby and I had begun sipping more wine when Steven appeared at the top of the stairs and walked over to us.

"So, you're bragging about your technique, Patrice?" he said.

"No, Steven," I said, trying unsuccessfully to stare him into shutting up. "We were just talking about sex. And oral sex was just one of the things that came up."

"Uh-huh," he said, ignoring my tacit request and said to Abby, "You should see what Patrice can do. She's amazing."

I was angry with him, but also turned on by this new turn in the evening's topics. I did enjoy giving blowjobs and it had been a long time since I'd had a cock down my throat, or even in my mouth for that matter. My mouth watered suddenly. The thought of rubbing a hard dick around my lips, wetting it with my tongue, and then plunging my head down over it so the head would wedge into the back of my mouth and then down my throat made me even wetter than I'd felt all evening.

"You want to show everyone what you can do, Patrice?" Steven asked.

Abby added, "Yeah, come on, Patty. You're among friends here. You don't have to do it until one of the guys comes. Just show me what it looks like when you deep throat." Then, addressing Steven she added, "Nobody has to climax, right? Just let her show me how she does it. I want to see it."

I was still hoping he would shut up and stop sharing my peculiar - and psychologically problematic - sexual idiosyncrasies. But, no. He went on to tell her how much I liked semen itself, that it gave me an orgasm.

"No way," Abby stared at me in disbelief. "You can come just by tasting the stuff?"

Jeez. I could have killed him. I was starting to like Abby, but this was not the way you begin a friendship: Behaving like you're simply a party trick, like a hooker negotiating for price. ("If you want me to deep throat you it'll cost you extra. And for your buddies...")