About The Truth May be Hard to Swallow

About four months into my relationship with the man I later married,
Derrick and I started having long discussions about our sex life.
These often occurred when we were driving to go visit his parents, who
lived about 150 miles away from the city where he and I both lived.
These drives eventually became the time when we had all of our serious
conversations, mainly because the drive was so long and we each had a
“captive audience” to hear our thoughts.

The sex conversations often centered around the little “problem” we
were having. Namely, I was not having orgasms. I assured him that I
had never had them with any other man I had been with, so it wasn’t
anything he personally was doing wrong. I just assumed that we would
eventually figure things out and the “problem” would get resolved. We
were both trying to be patient as we experimented, but we were getting
pretty frustrated, too.

One particular day during the drive home, I was distracting him from
the road by “sharing” my roll of Tropical Flavors Life Savers with
him. “Mmm! This flavor is *really* good!” I teased, reaching my hand
across to rub his neck.

“What? Which flavor is it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe peach or something. Wanna taste?” I leaned
across the seat and raised my eyebrows at him suggestively.

“OK, real quick,” he agreed. I kissed him and surprised him by
passing the rest of the Life Saver from my mouth into his.

He sucked on the candy for a few seconds then agreed that it might be
peach flavored. I popped another candy into my mouth. “Oh,
this one is pretty good, too. I think it might be watermelon.”

“Well, I’ve still got the other.” He smiled at me. “You’re going to
cause a wreck if you’re not careful,” he warned.

“How about we just *talk* about sex, then, if I can’t actually touch
you.”

I was very concerned about keeping our sex life interesting,
especially in light of our recent difficulties. I had decided to ask
him to specifically make suggestions to “improve” our sex life. “Is
there anything I can start doing or stop doing that would make our sex
life better for you?” After all, I loved him, and wanted him to feel
like our sex life was *fantastic*. I was also a little scared that
our problems might make him want to find another woman who was, well,
more responsive.

“Well, it would certainly be nice if you were having orgasms!” he
stated unnecessarily. By now, this was an obsession for both of us.

“Yeah, well, other than that, honey.” I was really hoping he could
come up with something else.

“I don’t know.” He thought about it for a while. “I mean, that’s
pretty big.”

“Well, we can keep working on that, but I mean something else
*besides* that.”

He thought about it some more, then stated, “We could do cherry
flavored Life Savors next time, ” he joked. We both laughed.
“Seriously, well, I don’t know. I guess there is one thing, but I
really wouldn’t want you to. I mean, I wouldn’t if I were a woman.”

“What is it? I mean, I can always say no’ if I don’t want to do it.”
I should have known what was coming next, but he surprised me.

“It would be nice if you would let me come in your mouth.” He paused.
“But, of course, I don’t think you should. I mean, that’s just too
much to ask.”

So that was it, huh? The one thing he could think of that he thought
would improve sex for us (other than the impossible), and I was
disgusted by the thought. I quickly replied with a very light and
non-committal response, “Well, maybe I’ll surprise you some day.”
Yeah, right, sure. He just laughed and changed the subject, probably
wishing he hadn’t said it because he knew that I would feel bad about
it.

Well, I did feel bad about it, but what was I supposed to do about it?
I spent the next half hour or so seriously asking myself that
question. I mean, there was a *reason* that I didn’t let him do that.
I didn’t want to. Nice girls didn’t do that sort of thing. I didn’t
like the taste. Actually, when I thought about it some, I had quite a
number of excuses lined up. But, the longer I thought about it, the
more I realized that all of my reasons were either very selfish or
very immature. So, what was I supposed to do about it? Well, there
was one thing…

In those days, we had sex several times a week. We were young and
energetic, and had lots of spare time. We spent most of that spare
time in bed together, fucking in every position we could imagine.
Oral sex became a regular activity for us also. I truly did enjoy
performing oral sex on him, and offered to do so frequently (we had an
understanding that he would warn me when he was about to come, and he
always did).

The day after our big conversation, I offered in the usual way. “Can
I suck your dick?” He rarely turned this offer down, particularly
when I phrased it so bluntly.

“Sure!” he agreed. He always sounded surprised when I offered.

“Here, lie down and get comfortable,” I suggested, guiding him to lie
on his back with his legs slightly parted. I crawled down the bed and
positioned myself between his legs with my head towards his.
I looked into his eyes and smiled at him. “I really like to do this,”
I assured him. I dipped my head down and grabbed his cock with my
right hand, my hair falling onto his stomach and obscuring his view
some. I inhaled deeply, loving the sexy scent.

I stared at his dick, remembering the unpleasant times when my first
lover, Mark, had “accidentally” come in my mouth against my wishes. I
remembered how much I hated the taste and how angry I felt because
Mark had violated my trust. Did I really want to try this? I
reminded myself that this was Derrick, not Mark, and tried to forgive
Mark for being young and inconsiderate.

Derrick groaned as I slowly moved my tongue along the top of his dick
in one long, wet, stroke. I concentrated hard on _giving_, as my
tongue swirled very slowly around the head. Then, I took the tip
between my lips, and began sucking on it, my tongue continuing to move
across him. I suddenly remembered the day when Derrick told me that
one of his favorite parts of getting a blowjob was that exact moment
when I first took him into my mouth.

I released him, then opened my mouth further to take more of him. He
reached down and held my hair to the side so that he could watch me as
I began moving my mouth up and down his dick to the point where my
lips met the hand that was wrapped around him. I continued on,
sucking slightly, but not hard enough to impede my movement. I
stretched my left hand down to reach for his balls. I began squeezing
them very softly, loving their weighty feel in my hand.

I moaned to let him know that I was enjoying myself. I also arched my
back so that he would have a better view of my ass. I began squeezing
him as I moved my right hand a little up and down him. My lips would
occasionally hit my hand, which was getting a little wet. I briefly
wished that I could move my hand and take him all the way in my mouth,
but knew from past experience that I just couldn’t do it.

Derrick’s moans began to change, and I knew he was going to come soon.
He warned me in the usual way with, “I’m gonna’ come…” I continued
on as if I hadn’t heard him, which prompted him to repeat himself a
little more forcefully. “I’m gonna’ *COME*!”

I raised my left hand to give him the universal “OK” sign and mentally
braced myself. His realization of what I was about to do sent him
immediately over the edge.

I could actually feel his dick stiffen and shake as he began coming in
my mouth. The fluid came out in violent spurts, and I continued
sucking on him as he filled my mouth with the silky fluid. As soon as
it was over, I released him and immediately swallowed it, trying not
to think about the taste.

“HONEY!” he exclaimed, still panting. “Thank you! Did you mean to do
that?” he was apparently shocked. I smiled at him and nodded,
thinking that the experience hadn’t been nearly as bad as I thought it
would be. He pulled me to him and kissed me, saying, “You didn’t have
to do that!”

“I know. It wasn’t that bad,” I assured him. “Actually, it was kind
of fun.” I smiled again, a little proud of myself. “The taste was,
well… I think I need a drink of water.” We both laughed. “Really,
it wasn’t that bad. I’m glad I tried it.”

He leaned towards me, still a little light headed. “So am I,
sweetie.” We shared a long, wet, kiss. “So am I,” he repeated,
smiling as he pulled me down on top of him.

The next evening, we were staying at my parents’ home. They were out
of town, and we had the house to ourselves. I was teasing him while
we did the laundry, grabbing his ass as he walked by, and making
suggestive comments.

I boiled some water to cook the pasta we were planning to have for
dinner. He apparently decided that this was a good time to give me a
taste of my own medicine, because he came into the kitchen and stood
directly behind me. Without touching me, he leaned forward slightly
and whispered in my ear. “Hi, honey.”

I turned and smiled at him briefly, then returned my attention to the
stove. He then moved a bit closer so that his chest was against my
back, his breath hot on my neck. “Did I ever tell you how cute you
look in those shorts?” he asked, his hands beginning to move slowly up
my back and towards my shoulders.

“You like them?”

“Oh, yea. They’re very sexy.”

“Uh, thanks,” I replied, getting distracted from my cooking. His
hands traveled down my arms then around my chest, just below my
breasts.

“Um, honey?” I started. “I’m trying to cook!”

“Is that why it’s so hot in here?” he teased, pulling my body tightly
against his. “Or do you think there might be another reason?” I
could feel his erection quite clearly by now.

I turned my body around so that I was facing him rather than the
stove. I looked into his eyes and said, “I suppose there might be
another reason.” He moved his arms down my back and pulled my hips
tightly against his. He leaned down and touched his lips to mine very
softly. Too softly, actually — it was at tease rather than a proper
kiss.

I tilted my head back further and stretched up on my tiptoes to reach
for another, more satisfying kiss. This time he responded
aggressively, grinding his hips against mine as his tongue moved into
my mouth suggestively. We continued to kiss until I suddenly
remembered dinner.

I broke the kiss and gasped, “Honey, the macaroni is going to boil
over!”

“Fuck the macaroni!” He reached his hand over and turned off the
stove, dipping his head for another passionate kiss. “I don’t think I
can wait until after dinner.”

He backed me up against the island in the center of the kitchen. I
continued grinding my hips against his. He quickly pulled my tee
shirt up over my head, and dropped it on the floor. His hands
immediately reached up and cupped both of my breasts, lightly pinching
my nipples through the pink sheer fabric of my bra.

I moaned, arching my back. Of course, this had the effect of also
pressing myself harder against his erection. He quickly removed the
bra and began massaging my bare breasts. I reached down and
unbuttoned his shorts. Then, I placed my palms against his abdomen,
my fingertips just inside the elastic of his boxers.

Suddenly, he reached his hands down the back of my upper thighs and
lifted me onto the island. He cushioned the back of my head as he
pushed me down so that I was laying on the island with my feet
dangling over the edge. I watched him as he rushed to remove my
shorts and panties.

After they had joined the tee shirt and bra on the floor, he leaned
over and began kissing my breasts. His lips began by brushing lightly
along the tops. His tongue then licked a wet path down between them
then back up to my neck. His hands followed his mouth, caressing the
adjacent areas of skin. I lifted one shoulder off of the island
slightly, hoping to entice his mouth to notice the neglected tip of
that breast. He rewarded me with a quick wet flick of his tongue. My
slight gasp encouraged him to continue.

I reached my hands towards him and pulled his tee shirt partway off.
He cooperated by raising his head long enough for me to finish
removing the shirt. He then switched to the other breast, fairly
giving it equal treatment.

Then, his lips began planting a trail of light kisses down my chest
and across my stomach. He reached his hand down to slightly part the
outer lips of my pussy, then immediately ran his tongue upward in one
long wet stroke. I reached my right hand down and set it lightly up
on his head to encourage him to continue. He continued licking me,
occasionally focusing on just the clit. I was soon dripping wet.

After a short while, he reached down and pulled his shorts and boxers
down. He then lifted his head, smiled at me, and pulled my hips
towards his now free cock.

Derrick was tall enough that he could fuck me this way. As he
carefully pushed himself into me, I reached around his neck and pulled
myself so that I was sitting up. I then wrapped my legs around his
back as he slid in and out of me.

The counter on the island was now rather wet, and we slid around some
as he thrust into me. “Can you believe what we’re doing in your
parents’ kitchen?” he joked, using his arms to pull my hips towards
him again and again. I giggled a little.

“Very nasty,” I agreed, panting.

He then began his final climb towards climax, closing his eyes to
concentrate on the sensations. I could tell that he was almost there
by the sounds of his breathing and the speed of his strokes. He then
stiffened and began pouring his warm fluid into me. I pushed myself
against him as tightly as possible, wanting him completely surrounded
by me.

After it was over, he lifted me back off the counter, gave me a tired
kiss, and pushed me towards the bathroom to clean up. When I
returned, he said, “Well, the macaroni is definitely overcooked, but I
think it was worth it.”

It was a pretty good weekend for us, all things considered.

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