He cried out then… and it happened. I cried out, too, in surprise, as thick, hot jets of cum flooded my tongue. I didn't know what to do but swallow it, wincing as the acrid taste slid down my throat. It just kept coming, and he shuddered and grabbed my head, keeping me there, filling my mouth to overflowing again, so I had to swallow, and again, god, so much of it, hot, pulsing waves of it as he cried, "Oh fuck, oh god, oh yeahhhh baby yeah!"

He kissed me when it was over. Pulled my mouth to his and kissed me-hard. He thanked me, too, and whispered into my ear what a good girl I was. I wanted to do it again. He was soft, now, cock and balls just a fleshy mass at the base of his zipper, and when I reached for him, he stopped me. Still, the longing in me didn't stop. I wanted more.

We had sessions after that-and I learned a great deal about how to suck his cock, how to make him wait for it, how to tease him and take him to the edge. But I'll never forget that first time, the sweet surprise of it, and the longing to suck, and suck, and suck… for that sweet good girl reward.

Confessions: Joy of Sex

It’s no secret that I’ve been with women before. I was with girls long before I was with boys, actually. My first real sexual experiences were experimenting with girlfriends,

“practicing” how to kiss, first on pillows, then using our tongues. My best friend, Shawn, was a year old than I was, and her mother was divorced and had some interesting things for us to explore in her bedroom. The first was a huge illustrated copy of the “Joy of Sex.” We read about how to touch ourselves, how to suck a cock. We lay on the bed together, flipping pages, our faces burning, our hearts racing, our sweet pussies aching.