This is the beginning of his story, in his own voice.
The women I’m writing about spent most of their time on their knees. Which is why I’m writing about them. That’s not why I’m writing about them, no I’m remembering them for much higher reasons…
And this dichotomy is how love develops.
One of them I fell in love with. And notice, “fell in love with,” that expression exists because people usually don’t make that decision consciously, it’s not like deciding to buy a car. It can be slow or fast, depending on how much cooperation the soon to be smitten one provides.
I dated other women interspersed with these three. However I mention these women particularly because they made a huge impact on my life, and no, not only because of our dating habits. Yes this is what I remember, this is all true. I dated these women for the usual reason, because I liked them, one I loved, I only wish I had realized it then. Probably I should say I was pretty disabled then. My health was great, I was a young guy. So how was I disabled? Well, I’m going to leave that as an exercise for the reader.
We dated, we did things, lot’s of things, we went places, out to eat, to movies, went swimming, university lectures, all that, yes. But at home or in a car, well you know…
Also probably I should begin near the end, doesn’t that make sense…
I wanted to leave Miami, I needed to, I had plans. I’m a scientist and I couldn’t do what I do in Miami, that’s what I thought. True at the time. (Not the white coat variety kind of scientist, whatever that is.)
We had been dating for a month or two. Things had already become routine. In a good way. I remember, she stopped me once while I was undressing, asking if this is what I wanted, she meant her sucking me off. And this was a woman who would, just about, well not lose consciousness, nothing like that, but everything else, everything in her world just stopped. Her eyes dilated, her breathing changed, she concentrated on my penis and nothing else mattered for her, not then. Once we were making out, if I didn’t move to facilitate her going down on me, she managed it herself. This idea that women don’t want to, well this one did. She was a nurse. My second.
This is a very complicated story. Sometimes, we’d be making out, and I would be really uncomfortable, because I loved her taking me in her mouth, I hated coming in her mouth. Except there was no other place I wanted to come. The entire experience, well that’s all I wanted. That’s all we did. I had been coming in women’s mouths for years. At college. We’ll get to that.
About Amy, I think we had regular vaginal sex once, just once. I was so out of practice, I’d tell her what I intended, I’d put a condom on, but once we started I kept wanting to change positions to put my dick in her mouth and pump to completion. We tried to have sex, regular sex, several times, except that’s what happened, I would stop, take off the condom, and she’d use a towel to clean me and put my penis in her mouth. She knew, she understood, completely, no conversation, no explanations, she’d just put her hands on my hips and pump me a few times. I’d come. And she’d hang on to my hips and swallow. And yes, as a matter of fact it was pretty wonderful. Except she didn’t know, I never told her, I hated myself every time she swallowed. But she didn’t hate me, she stayed on my cock until I was limp. We’d talk. We talked all night. We’d make our oral love and then we’d talk. I read to her a lot. I loved reading to her, she got to choose. Sometimes she brought medical textbooks, sometimes psych texts. The first time I invited her to bring something she wanted me to read she chose a book, a nursing text written for pediatric psychiatric nurses.
I should have gotten it right then. I didn’t. I didn’t realize what she was using the book to tell me. To tell me about herself. I can be so dumb. I didn’t get it at all.
This is going to get really complicated, I hope that’s alright.
Sometimes, trying to change our habits, I’d put my arms under hers so that she couldn’t go down on me, though make no mistake, I loved what she did, I loved her for what she did. Except I hated coming in her mouth. I loved her mouth, she’d give me just the right fit and I would deliver all I had. I so loved fucking her this way, I really did. I remember the first time, still, today, I remember the first time. The thing is, she was so perfect at swallowing, so perfect a partner, anyway, it’s true, I began to hate it when I came. I hated myself for what I was doing. She made it so hard to change. Plus, I wasn’t a man, I may have been 25, but no, I wasn’t actually a man. A man would have cared more for his lady. I was a cad, a rake. But no, I wasn’t a man.
We started going to hotels. Many times at one hotel, we’d been going here for a while, she stripped herself down completely and took pillows from our bed and set them up so that I could straddle her while I was on my knees. Which made it easy for me to pump into her with some speed. And, almost every time we did this, it hurt Amy, it hurt her mouth. No, I hurt her mouth. Not intentionally, but simply because of the friction presented by my cock against her mouth and jaw. Against the side of her mouth. My cock, going in and out, against the side of her mouth.
I wanted to talk about marrying her, but never did. I was afraid. I mean, I never even asked her age, I was 25. So I never found out how much older she was than me. I didn’t invite her to my office though she worked only a few blocks away, at Jackson Memorial Hospital. I was, seriously, a complete jerk.
Amy’s family visited Miami, she asked if I wanted to meet them, I said “no.” What was I going to tell her Dad?, I just couldn’t see myself being polite to him. (By this time I was fairly certain she had been abused, my guess was that he was the abuser.)
I did try to be as tender with Amy, as tender, as gentle, even exceedingly gentle, as much as I possibly could be. Sometimes sucking me was her idea, I let her lead, not all the time, but I never forced her or encouraged her once she signaled me that she didn’t want to have sex. Typically this was temporary. I came over, she had been about to go to the bathroom. Obviously I waited until she was comfortable. But such occasions were very rare. (This was very difficult for me, I was 25 and ordinarily pretty horny, especially after becoming used to her. But that was it, her “no” meant no.) Still, in part because of my certainty that she’d been molested I tried to be especially gentle in all things Amy. Sure, sometimes, especially when I had just arrived, I’d position her against that wall, (she moved there herself once she knew what I intended,) and getting on my knees, just face fuck her. That was a lot of fun! Not tender but she never complained, except she didn’t want this all the time, after that first time she wanted me to go slow, to hold her, many times, to let her lead.
Those tender times were some of the best. But yes, sometimes, I’d position her on pillows, which had been put against a wall, straddle her and just enjoy “face fucking” her. And she’d swallow, then hold my buttocks until long after I had come, just holding on to help me relax.
Once, she had come to my apartment (simply to pick up something) while others were visiting, and I was hoping that she would be the last to leave so she could suck me off, but the visitors were work-related (one was my boss,) and I didn’t feel comfortable giving them the rush out the door. But Amy, normally quiet and demure, suddenly managed something very simple: She told them the truth, that her nursing shift was starting soon and she wanted to say good-bye to me, could they give us some private time together?
They left, as far as I could tell, not offended, and Amy bade me to sit down on the couch, getting a pillow and then kneeling in front of me. And she did this the moment the outside front door had closed. Immediately. I never had a chance to speak, even to ask her. That time wasn’t the best, the occasion was too brief and, for me, very slightly painful. Indeed, I should have waited until I saw her again, but she didn’t know that of course. Still, Amy knew my needs and frequently, knowing or assuming I was horny, she would initiate our time together. I definitely wasn’t taking advantage of a poor molested girl.
Make no mistake though, whatever had happened, had hurt her. No one should read this and think she wasn’t badly damaged by what happened to her and had I been an actual man I would have done more. What? Well I should have accepted that dinner engagement with her Father, that would have been a start.
Did I mention I’m not very diplomatic…
But when she did me everything in her world went away. My penis was all that she was concerned with, that and my thrusting, what she could make it do, what she could make come out of it. And I don’t normally talk about my penis that way, but that was who Amy was, who we were, when we were together.
I never did discuss with Amy whatever Becky had told her…
Probably here is a good place to start talking about Becky.