What I Did for Love

I awoke before Steven and went out for a jog by the water. Working out always helped me to think clearly. I decided that what had happened was not an area worth spending too much time on. The real issue was what I did next. Was this a lifestyle I wanted? Did I really want to be a slut? Not a positive way to ask the question. Better: Did I really want to do slutty things? Having sex with other men, whether it was one other or a hundred, kept me from being grounded in a loving and secure relationship. It meant that I was not in a relationship. I was just fooling around with Steven.

He had certainly found one of my passions, one I didn't know I had.

But then I thought about that. Was this really my passion? Didn't all of this blowjob giving, semen sucking and cum playing come about because of my desire to please him? The more I thought about the chain of events the more sure I became that this wasn't me.

Sure, I enjoyed all of the sex. I had become addicted to pleasing Steven and that manifested itself in all of these outré sexual practices. I had never done these things before. I never wanted to do or even thought about doing these things before I met Steven.

After finishing my run, cooling down and showering, I met Steven downstairs in the restaurant. Over breakfast, Steven and I discussed things. In fact, we discussed things after breakfast, at lunch, and all afternoon.

But when we weren't discussing, I was sucking. In fact, I gave him three blowjobs that day, taking him completely down my throat each time. Regardless of the cause, I had grown to have a passion for giving oral sex. Plus, loading up with ibuprofen made me mostly forget about my sore jaw.

Late in the day, Steven asked about Shane, if I would try to give him a blowjob. The discussion continued as I told him just how wrong that question was in the kind of relationship I wanted with him.

"It makes me into an act, Steven, something you show to other people, but I don't want to be that. Even if my body enjoys doing it, it's not what I am. I'm a woman who wants love. And whatever this, what we have, is it's not that."

He told me that he understood and that he realized that he had become addicted to sex. His fetishes had only been fed by me and my desire to fulfill his desires. He said that he realized that he had gone too far. We then discussed going into therapy together, to try to work things out. Unfortunately, he was against the idea. He thought he could keep his fetishes under control and that we could go back to the loving relationship we had a year ago, in the beginning.

I wasn't sure if he could, but I was glad to hear it. I told him so and we went back up to the room and made love. I was surprised at how passionate it was. After we fucked for at least half an hour I gave him another blowjob, loving our combined tastes.

My body was so excited after giving him that last blowjob, that I surprised myself.

Lying there next to him, thinking about the weekend and everything, Shane's huge cock popped into my brain. "I want to try to suck Shane," I said, still rubbing his soft cock over my lips.

"Let me text him."

Shane was at a bar nearby, but I was pretty beat. We arranged for him to come by in the morning before our flight.

At 7:30 the next morning, I was sitting on a side chair looking at Shane's enormous hard-on with Steven sitting on the couch. It was difficult to get my hand around it. I remembered when watching him play with himself and that he only stroked with two fingers. I couldn't get any fingers to go all the way around. What a monster.

After licking the head for a while, making it wet, and receiving some pre-seminal nectar, I looked up for the first time and said, "So you still haven't come in two weeks?"

He shook his head and said magic words, "Nope. I feel like I'm going to explode. I'm going to cum huge."

"You sweet-talker, you. You know just what to say to make me crazy," I said with a smile.

I returned to the task at hand and, with his head almost dripping with wetness, I tried my jaws to see how far I could open them. They didn't hurt as much so I pulled him closer, all the while trying to encase the head inside my mouth.

Eventually I attained a degree of success. Some of the jaw soreness returned, but I was pleasantly surprised when I realized that I had his cock's head deep inside my mouth, pressing against the back in fact, with a few inches of the shaft in there too.

Shane started to make some kind of indeterminate sounds and that helped move me from my concentration on the physicality of his monster to the thrills of feeling the hard, wet, tasty cock embedded in my mouth. I took both hands and together they encircled his dick, rubbing on the lots of inches of more cock he had outside my mouth. Moving my hands firmly up and down I began to focus my tongue on the part of his cock just below the head. He moaned more and tried to push deeper into me, but there was no way this cock was getting any further into my pharynx.

Because I'd learned to quell my gag reflex pretty well, it actually excited me when he pushed in and out, but it only lasted for a minute or so. Let's face it. He was a twenty-something guy who hadn't come in two plus weeks. My mind began to think about how much he was going to come. Just the thought of his orgasm gave me a little one of my own.

Then we did it. I say we because he was the outie and I was the innie, so to speak. I could feel him begin to shoot hard in the back of my mouth. With each pulse he grunted. I began to do the same. I was getting off on him and his erupting cock. It truly was a magical moment and I was thrilled by it all.

He came for what seemed like ten minutes. I know it couldn't have been, but between his ejaculations and my own body's responses to them, we were locked in this strange embrace for a long, sexy time.

When his shots finally stopped I realized I had cum dripping down my chin. Steven, the dear, had slid the tray onto my lap. Although I didn't want to let any of it go, I didn't worry about what I couldn't contain. Shane was at that point that many guys get where they are too sensitive to have any touch so he pulled out of my mouth. I tried to keep as much of the semen as possible from dripping out.

Now that I had the mouthful of semen, I relaxed my jaws. That was a bit of a relief and allowed me to enjoy the sweet taste and slimy texture of cum, thick, rich, and abundant cum.

He certainly delivered a monumental load and I just sat there, enjoying the taste as it bathed my tongue. I considered doing some cum play with it, but I just wanted to savor the taste and texture for a few more moments and then to swallow it.

I did just that. The gulp that ensued was loud and the feeling of that gooey mass sliding down my throat was extraordinarily hot. I thought that I'd probably been on an orgasmic plateau for the past several minutes. For the moment, all was right with the world. My pussy, my stomach, my tongue, mouth and throat were all quite happy and satisfied. I sat back, remembering the tray with its errant jism.

Again I was struck with its opalescence and its beauty. I was a little zoned out and didn't notice that Steven had been jerking off while watching us. As I was bending forward, bringing the tray up to my mouth, he came again and delivered a good-sized load, his second of the morning, right in front of my face onto the tray.

I needed it. Friday evening reminded me that even though I love cum in general, I prefer it when it's warm and fresh. My brain told me that I had to have the pretty white globs on the tray and slurped them up carefully until all was in my mouth. I made a little cum show, straining it between my teeth and lips. Then I gargled and it created a bunch of bubbles that shortly overflowed my mouth. The cum play itself was fun and somehow gave me even more pleasure.

Eventually I swallowed it all and tried to gather up whatever was still on my cheeks and chin and corral it into my mouth. I swallowed that too.

For a weekend all about reconciling who I was, what I was, what kind of relationship I was in, and what I needed from therapy, I was still a happy camper, or maybe a happy slut. I didn't know. I did know that today I'd had the ejaculate of three orgasms in my mouth, yesterday I'd had four, and the day before that, well, let's just leave it at a nice round 130. And I loved every drop.

Chapter 9: Love and Obsession

The return flight was delayed for an hour. Add in the time zone change from Pacific Standard to Central Standard and we didn't get back home until very late, each of us going to our respective abodes. Exhausted from the sex stuff of the weekend combined with the long return, I could barely wash my face and brush my teeth, before I collapsed in bed.

I had planned to take the next day off and it was a judicious plan. It had been snowing when we landed at O'Hare and by morning Chicago was a mess, still pretty under its blanket of snow, but a headache for those who had to drive or in any way ambulate around or through the city. I slept late and moved about slowly when I did get up. After a luxurious bath, I put on some flannel PJs and made a big pot of coffee. I sat by the window and read the Tribune on my iPad.

Then, in the stillness of my home after I was done with all the online activity I needed, I sat, watching the snow fall past my window, and thought about the weekend, Steven and my life.

Yes, we'd discussed a lot of things on Saturday, but I'd acted like a total slut on Friday night. Then there was Shane and his enormous cock on Sunday morning. And I didn't even think about the four or five blowjobs I'd given Steven. What was going on with me? Was this the real me? It was hard for me to accept it all, but just as hard to do anything about it.

I thought of nothing else all morning, but when I got cabin fever early in the afternoon, I went out to take a yoga class near by. The weather was awful and it was to walk there, but it felt great to enter the studio space. It was warm inside. The air had just a hint of spice. The class was just beginning and only a few people were there.

It gave me a chance to focus on my body, letting go of frustrations, being myself—or at least trying to figure it out.

After class the instructor Janine came up to me and asked how I was. I'd gotten to know her a little over the last few years. Interesting character: She'd been an actress and dancer, then went back to school, got a Masters degree in nursing and was a nurse practitioner for a number of years. Her husband left her for a younger model and in the personal chaos that ensued she became a yoga instructor.

"You looked tense in class today," Janine said.

"Yeah, I am," I told her. "I was traveling most of the day yesterday and I'm trying to get rested up to go back to work tomorrow."

She said that my body looked awfully tight. I told her that my jaw was holding a lot of tension.

"You know, we have several women who have that problem," she said in a knowing manner. "Let me show you some exercises to relax the muscles that run between the back of the mandible and the zygomatic bone."

I had no idea what those things were, but Janine took me back to the desk. There she showed me an image of the muscles that I told her were sore and exercises to do to relieve the soreness. Although we didn't discuss it, I think she had a pretty good idea of what had caused the pains.

Deciding that she would have trouble getting home due to the weather, she decided to close for the day. We walked out together and I waited with her while she locked up. I thanked her for the class and for taking the time to show me the jaw exercises.

Before she left for the L, she looked at me and said, "You know, these exercises will help relax your throat and if you do them regularly, you'll be able to open your jaw wider too."

I didn't know what to say and the look must have been written on my face. She added, "Listen, Patty, I know. I was there. I had a boyfriend in college who wanted nothing but getting deep, if you don't mind me saying. He was a big guy. Yoga helps with all body relaxation, but these exercises will help you to, um, open up. I mean really open wide."

After thanking her I left to go home, still thinking about Janine and the exercises. The walk back in the brisk air and the city draped in snow helped me to get things into perspective.

Although we talked a few times, I didn't see Steven all week. The break was good for me. When we had take-out at his place of Friday evening, I had a good time. After dinner we watched part of a movie, then he paused it.

He got up, went to his computer table—which was messier than usual loaded with a lot of files and reports on it as well as accumulated mail—and cleared everything off it. Then he said, "I want to watch you lick my load up."

"OK, sure," I agreed, walking over to the table and kneeling so I could watch him shoot.

Then changing his mind, he said, "No, Patrice, I want you to deep throat me."

"Yeah, I was going to surprise you with that last weekend, but things went in a different direction, didn't they?"

"What can I say? You wanted it, you know."

I looked at him and suddenly a cloud seemed to dissipate in my brain, like cleaning your eyeglasses. Everything, well, most things in our relationship appeared to come into focus.

"Steven, I enjoyed it, every last hard-on and every last drop of their semen," I told him while I undid his belt. "But it was not what I wanted. What I wanted was to take you deep into my throat and to give you pleasure. In fact, that's what I want right now, too."

I wasn't finished with my thought, but he interrupted saying, "Patty, I haven't come all week, you know, so I've got a big load for you."

"I'm looking forward to that too. I always love it when you come. But, I have my doubts about our future," I hesitated, not wanting to dampen the mood but hoping that we could somehow get on the same page. "You know, as a couple."

"No, you don't. You know what you want. You want me, my dick, and the occasional gang suck with all those guys coming in your mouth," he said, thinking I was making a joke. He got out his cock and rubbed it around my face, then back and forth against my lips. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed that.

"Let's do this," I said to him, feeling like an action-adventure hero about to do something dangerous and dramatic.

I opened my mouth and licked him a bit, enjoying the wetness that was already apparent. When I got situated just right, I took him back and pulled him deep, slowly, in a controlled fashion, inch by inch. It felt like he was way down there, but I still had another inch or so.

Bringing his cock out, I licked up the juices and brought him back in again. I repeated this a couple of times. After bringing him in deep again, he pushed a little at first and I held him firmly, keeping his desire to thrust in check. Then I took in more and a little more until my lips were around the base of his cock and my nose flattened against his lower abdomen.

"Oh shit, Patty, that's amazing," he groaned. "I don't know about you but I'm going to come any minute. That's so good. This load's for you, honey. Fuck!"

It felt uncomfortable to keep him way deep inside, but it was also a satisfying feeling. I had worked hard and gagged enough times on those dildos that successfully getting his big cock way down in my throat was rewarding. Plus, sometimes it turned me on when he said those things. This was one of those times.

He started to shove in and out, just a little. I stayed focused on relaxing and just went with it, pushing back against him, getting the whole thing right down to root completely in my mouth. It was difficult, but I could feel that the exercises Janine taught me were helping. I momentarily thought, "Gee, I need to thank her." Then I returned to the current reality of this luscious, but still foreign object in my throat.

A moment later he yelled out some more obscenities and I could feel his cock expand. I knew what that meant and rubbed my thighs together, enjoying the deserved bit of self-stimulation.

"I want to see it," he said and pulled out quickly as he was coming. The fast ejaculation treat and his sudden movement caused me to gag and while I was occupied with getting my body's natural reflexes under control, he continued shooting his cum in and at me. By the time I'd regained my composure, my face was bathed in his cum. I pressed my tongue against his still-shooting head. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed the feeling of it pulsing out on my tongue. It caused me to have a series of little jolts myself.

When he was done ejaculating, I continued to lick him, slurping up as much of the hot cum as I could find on his cock, my chin, my upper lip and the corners of my mouth.

He said, "That was great. Looks like you enjoyed it too. I'm glad you did. I could see you were coming."

"Well, for me it was a bit of small but satisfying shivers. For you it was a cascade of cum. Which of us do you think received more pleasure from this?"

He stared at me with a confused look.

"I was satisfying you, letting you deep throat me, Patrice. You're the one I wanted to please," he said with sincerity.

I was going to call him on it, but decided it wasn't worth it. I did have a good time, but I knew that we were near the relationship's demise. I just wasn't sure how this endgame would play out.

We both got in the shower and then went to bed. There must have been something in our take-out dinner that disagreed with me and I got up in the middle of the night, made a cup of chamomile tea, went in to the living room and watched television for a bit. There was nothing of interest so I looked for something to read.

Steven usually had a slew of magazines on his glass computer desk, but he had cleared it off. He was always reading some business journal. I was sure that would help me get back to sleep. I looked for something in the mess of papers. There I found an open envelope with a stack of one hundred dollar bills, bound with a rubber band. There were a few more loose tens, twenties, and fifties, too. The bills were in a ledger of some sort.

My curiosity piqued, I opened the ledger. There was a page for September and it said Seattle Patrice. The names of the guys who'd come for the sex party were listed with numbers next to each name, the number of times each of them had come. In the next column were dollar amounts. In the rightmost column were the totals.

There was another page dated this past weekend, labeled San Diego Patrice. There were dozens of men's names similarly notated, but with a more complex pricing structure. For the first, it was a nice round number, a third more than Seattle. Each additional one was half off.

It took me a minute to let it sink in. He had been literally pimping me out. I remember I had used the term with him to explain how I felt and he had said it was all to indulge my fantasies. The fact was that after learning that he could make some money off the fantasies he'd convinced me were mine in Seattle, he'd made thousands of dollars from having more guys do the same thing in San Diego. I'd been played, used and abused.

What an asshole he was. A manipulative, self-obsessed, perverted asshole.

What a fool I was.

I sat there quietly thinking about everything for five or ten minutes.

"Idiot," I said softly to no one. Fuck it, I thought. I left the envelope and the ledger and money sitting out on the desk. Then I called for a ride, went back in the bedroom, quietly picked up my clothes, got dressed in the living room, and went home.

Steven kept phoning me all weekend. On Monday at work I investigated if my health plan included mental health and found that it paid for part of some number of visits per year. I called a few therapists and made appointments to interview three of them. Two were women and one was an older man. It was strange, but I thought it would be better to work through this with the guy.