Woke up today filling in details of the last two stories I posted. Or is it three? Doesn’t matter. It’s all based in fact, with some harmless fictional flourishes thrown in to make it fun.

I remembered those moments when I imagined we had invented the act of face fucking when, of course, if you could somehow pull back the curtain on the occurrence of that particular act you’d find thousands of miles of cock fucking hundreds upon thousands of faces all across the world at any given instant.

I never thrust into her face the way I did her body but I liked the way my asscheeks clenched as I slipped and slid through her lips. All of our sex, with me virtually always on top, made me feel athletic. Indeed, I was sore in all parts of my body during our first couple of weeks.

She would orgasm multiple times, usually when I was inside her. Like everything else about her it was tight. Sharp, jerking movements in her waist and midsection, sometimes accompanied by what sounded like a bark or yelp, other times unintelligible groans.

She didn’t hate when I went down on her but I came to believe she tolerated it. I was so hungry for it that I might have caved to selfishness in this respect. She would orgasm, though, so she couldn’t have hated it too much. At least I let myself believe that.

She did not hate sucking cock, though. She fucking loved it. She liked playing with it. It was like a cross between food and a toy for her, the way she licked it and looked at it.

Often times after she first took away my pants and my cock jumped out she would whisper the words “Oh boy,” a phrase she used sarcastically in contexts where she was presented with something like a phone call or a post card. Something predictable and even mundane but nevertheless a highlight of her day.

Sometimes she made funny facial expressions, as if conversing with my cock and balls. I’d see her make a sort of pouty expression with her mouth, slowly and sympathetically running a fingernail from the tip to where the cock and balls meet. Then she’d start gobbling it up again.

In that mind of hers it would not surprise if she imagined my cock in her hands and mouth as a puppet show, her puppetmaster hand up my ass controlling what my cock said to her.

When I came into her mouth her hands and face made it look like she just won a lottery, or some random but prestigious award. Her index fingers and thumbs formed circles, her other fingers splayed, then she lightly squeezed my ass as my juices spurted into her.

We had a routine, or what you might even call expectations. I always came twice twice per encounter, the first time in her mouth, the second time onto her body (I naïvely relied on the withdrawal method of birth control, although she had insisted she could not get pregnant). If I came a third time it was into her mouth again.

It did happen, only once, that I made the mistake of cumming onto her face. I can never forget the look of disgust and impatience as the energy between us abruptly changed. I felt guilt and responsibility, watching her delicately, disgustedly scoop the jizz off of her eyelids and forehead. As much as she loved it in her mouth she hated it on her face.

“At least it didn’t get into my hair,” she chided, moments later discovering that one stray shot of drops did, in fact, reach the middle of her mane. She took a quick shower, returning to the mattress with positive energy. “I had to wash the jizz out of my hair!” she said, laughing.

I said I was sorry. She was fine with it. I did not feel the orgasm approach and even if I did could not have gotten back into her mouth in time. I tried to inject some flattery, suggesting she was so good and beautiful that I couldn’t help myself. She would have none of it. “I’m too old for flattery,” she once told me.

This had happened one other time, with the first woman I slept with in New York and to whom I lost my virginity. She was a college student. During one of our first encounters foreplay lasted way too long, too long for me at least. She was topless, her breasts glistening wet with the spit of my tongue, when she slowly brought her hands to my belt.

I was lying on the bed. The moment my cock felt air it blasted a geyser, only partly landing on her face before she pointed it away. A big load hit the wall before she pointed it back toward me. One shot hit my face before the remaining softer shots went onto my body. It seemed I would never stop cumming.

It was hugely embarrassing but I can’t feel too bad about that incident. It was only the third time a woman had taken off my pants, and it took two hours of making out and me sucking her beautiful breasts for her to get there. I was ready.

It obviously was no dealbreaker. She did not get to me that afternoon but she proved to be a truly hungry and miraculous cocksucker, in her dorm rooms, in the classrooms, even on the bus a couple of times. So good. So good.