Elizabeth , The Gift of Giving

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Looking at Elizabeth, you would never imagine the incredible pleasure she could give a man. Everything about her seemed ordinary and uninspired. A brown-eyed brunette standing about 5’1′, she preferred penny loafers, long skirts and blouses buttoned to the neck over tight jeans and halter tops. She never wore shorts or sandals, even in the heat of summer–no unnecessary exposed skin, no tan; and her long straight hair was always worn up, never loose or in a ponytail. Her sense of fashion, or lack of it, was unusual for someone her age. At 19, Elizabeth did not appear to be your typical teenage nymph, and you probably wouldn’t look twice at her if you saw her in a crowded bar. But that would have been a mistake.

Naked, which is how she preferred to be seen, was another story. Beneath the shapeless wardrobe was a mini model’s body: graceful, elegant neck, wide, angular shoulders, a tiny waist and a cute, tight little ass. She had surprisingly long, lean legs for a woman of her stature, and a nice, flat, lick-able tummy. Her breasts fit her petite frame just perfectly: firm, upright 34C’s with pert half-inch nipples that just begged to be pinched; and her silky hair was long and flowing, baby-soft, and reached halfway down her back. Elizabeth’s face was pretty, in a classic, non-descript kind of way, but not what you would call beautiful; its most striking feature was a set of full, juicy, coral-colored lips, ala Angelina Jolie. Your eyes were drawn to them by an ever-present, knowing, mysterious smile—a Mona Lisa, come-hither smile— a devilish smile that never left her face. She smiled when she spoke, when she said hello and goodbye; she even smiled when she laughed. It was her calling card.

Make no mistake about it; Elizabeth was not clueless about how she looked. There was purpose behind the lame wardrobe: it took attention away from her considerable beauty. Less asshole men to deal with, she reasoned, and more control over which ones she chose to reveal her true nature to. The truth was that Elizabeth possessed a deep, dark sexuality—as equally well hidden as her perfect body. Smoldering desire consumed the girl’s every waking moment and simmered just under the surface of her otherwise conventional life. It was a concentrated desire, boiling hot, ready to be expressed at any time—but only under the right circumstances. Elizabeth’s sexual cravings were narrowly focused—obsessively focused—around sucking cock. She’d much rather suck than fuck. Her week was not complete unless she had given someone a satisfying blowjob. If she didn’t carefully manipulate and control her powerful obsession, she’d very likely be a 2-bit whore giving $10 BJ’s on the street. Instead, Elizabeth was well-adjusted, held down a respectable part-time job in my law firm, attended college, and maintained a loyal, long-term relationship with an older lover, me, who pretty much paid for everything. Believe me, she was worth every penny.

So, at first glance Elizabeth appeared to be the classic egghead, a sweet little wallflower; but in reality her life was a living, breathing porno movie. She was, at heart, an artist. Giving blowjobs was her art, her means of expressing herself and her femininity…her religion, if you will. And if you were ever lucky enough to become the object of her oral attention, as I was for almost 3 years, you’d no doubt remember Elizabeth Irving for the rest of your life.

I was 35 back then and she was barely 19 when we first met at a local college watering hole. I was trolling for some young thing to take home and needed some rolling papers. I thought it would be a witty come-on to announce my problem to a table full of foxy young girls, which I did. A gorgeous blonde, slightly offended by my request, pointed out the potheads in the group. Quickly scanning the table, the blonde stood out as the one to take home and fuck senseless; but it was a petite, frumpy looking brunette sitting quietly in the corner who froze me with a seductive smile and spoke up, offering to provide the goods. What the hell, I thought: pussy was pussy. I agreed to share a joint with her, and before long we were walking out of the bar to the envy of her catty friends. Shortly after taking me back to her dorm room, I had her on her knees, gamely sucking cock for the first time in her young life. Later we fucked, but she insisted on blowing me two more times, and swallowed my cum on the last round. She loved it. We both knew that night that Elizabeth had found her calling in life.

I was married at the time, and an improbable May-December affair followed. Within a few short months, the quiet, unpretentious 19 yr old had developed, thanks to my patient tutoring, into a very talented cocksucker. She became a more than willing sperm drinker and discovered that she could orgasm just by giving head and having men cum in her mouth. She became fixated on me as her lover and teacher, and together we explored the joys of what turned out to be her innately submissive etiler eve gelen escort nature. She was eager to please, and obedient to a fault and, best of all, would meet me anywhere, anytime, to service my cock. But It wasn’t long before she began to crave the taste of cum, and even I couldn’t supply her with enough jism to keep her happy. So I encouraged her to discretely indulge her obsession with other men as well—as long as she asked permission first and reported back to me with the intimate details of each encounter. She was happy to oblige. She pledged her loyalty and embarked on an orgy of cock sucking. It was a little disconcerting at first, but eventually I loosened up and her oral adventures became pure pud-pounding fun.

She’d call me sometimes in the middle of the day on her cell phone, seeking approval to suck guys off in the weirdest places: stairwells, bathrooms, dressing rooms, gym locker rooms. She’d call me afterwards and dirty-talk me to orgasm while we both masturbated.

“My, God, Michael, I’m still hot!” she whispered into the phone once after sucking some guy off in an empty classroom.

“Did he cum in your mouth?” I asked.

“Yes…kind of…it was really thick and salty” she offered details.

“Did you swallow it?” I wanted to know.

“Yes, most of it.” She replied, sounding disappointed.

“So why aren’t you satisfied, you little slut?” I teased.

“He came too soon”, she explained. “I was just getting in to it. His dick was delicious and I wanted to keep sucking it, but he pulled it out of my mouth while he was cumming, the fucking asshole,” she explained.

“Poor baby,” I joked.

“Fuck you,” she shot back, not amused at all. Giving blow jobs was serious business to Elizabeth.

“Are you playing with yourself?” I asked, getting back to the subject.

“I always masturbate when I call you. That’s what you want, isn’t it, Michael. I have two fingers in my pussy. Mmmm, it feels good! Are you playing with yourself?” she wanted to know.

“Of course. It’s nice and hard. Maybe I’ll cum for you if you’re a good girl,” I teased, encouraging her to keep frigging herself.

“Mmmm…just picturing you jerking off is making me hotter. God, I want to cum, Michael. I’m getting close. Can I?” Her breathing got heavier and her voice quivered as her submissiveness kicked in as she asked for permission.

“Not yet. Tell me more. So what happened? Did he shoot all over you?” I asked.

“I wish.” She sighed. “It’s all over the wall and on the floor. What a waste.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” I suggested. She sometimes needed prodding to get really down and dirty; but she would try anything I asked.

It dawned on her what I wanted. “Your going to make me lick it up, aren’t you, you bastard?” she asked. I could picture her smiling wickedly.

“I’m just thinking about you,” I lied. “I want you to have your orgasm. It’s a shame your friend didn’t give you a chance. You do want to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, I need to, Michael,” she answered urgently, and added: “Will that make you cum, too? Will making me a dirty little cum licker get you off?” Her voice was shaking as she considered both actions.

“Don’t ask questions. Just do it. Hold the phone close so I can listen,” I instructed her.

There was a pause. She fumbled with the phone a bit and then I could clearly hear hungry little “mmmm’s’ in between wet sucking sounds as she licked up all the cum puddles she could find. She moaned softly as the little cum-whore savored and swallowed the cold dirty sperm. I listened and stroked my dick as I imagined her on her knees licking cum off the wall. What if someone walked in? She had become a real sperm-slut; she just couldn’t help herself and, of course, I encouraged her at every turn.

There was a loud noise as she must have dropped the phone, and I could hear her moaning and cursing in the background. She was climaxing, no doubt. I was in love with how fucking depraved she whad become. Masturbating was not going to satisfy me this time. I needed her mouth. My wife was away on business, as she often conveniently was, so I told Elizabeth to hurry over to my place and that I would work my cock for her until my balls were bursting with semen. I promised I would have a big load for her when she got here.

She pulled into my driveway 15 minutes later.

“Take off your clothes and undo your hair,” I said, as the door closed behind her. She undressed quickly, kicked off her shoes and shook out her thick mane. She stood in the hall totally naked, smiling seductively, passively allowing me to take in her breathtaking, youthful beauty. I noticed that her wispy-thin pubic hairs were glistening with cunt juice from their recent encounter with her fingers. I wasted no time in getting to the business at hand.

“Get down”, I ordered, pointing to the floor in front of me. She complied without question etiler grup yapan escort and dropped to her knees, waiting for instructions like the submissive cock-slut she was.

I stepped away and slowly circled her, running my fingers through her baby-soft locks. I took my time, testing her patience. I knew she needed to suck my cock, but it was always better when I made her wait. She moaned softly and pressed her cheek against my hand like a purring cat at feeding time.

“Good girl”, I praised, as I stepped in front of her and undid my belt. I pulled her by her chin towards the zipper of my jeans. I wanted her to work for it. “Pull it down with your teeth.”

She looked up at me with a hint of irritation in her eyes. She was impatient, she wanted cock, and she wanted it desperately; but she clutched my thighs and did as she was told, grunting with frustration as she struggled to grasp the pull with her teeth. She finally succeeded in getting my fly open.

I undid the top snap of my jeans and pulled out my dick, which was already hard. I stroked it slowly, inches from her face as she stared hungrily, lips slightly parted. Her breath quickened in anticipation. She looked up into my eyes; graceful neck arched slightly back, and instinctively crawled closer to my feet to get into position. I was ready to drop a load in her mouth the minute she got on her knees, but I wanted to reinforce our relationship a little first.

“Open your mouth and let me see your tongue”, I instructed, my fully erect cock just above her face and pulsing with every heartbeat. She opened wide, closed her eyes and submissively offered up her mouth for inspection. She had nice, white, perfect teeth—so white that the pearly translucence of dripping semen contrasted nicely on them. She extended her tongue; it was twitching imperceptibly. I rubbed my index finger over the plump pink flesh, examining it, careful not to go too far into her throat and gag her. That made her salivate and she swallowed around my finger, moaning softly on it for a moment, then opening her mouth back up to allow further exploration of the soon-to-be cum-filled orifice.

“You have perfect lips”, I observed, admiring the natural coral color of those luscious pillows of pleasure. Elizabeth never used lipstick or gloss, which was how I liked it. “Perfect for cock-sucking,” I added. She nodded and smiled. She was proud of her oral skills and I always made sure to praise them.

I cupped her chin in the palm of my hand, a little roughly, and glided my thumb back and forth across her lips. “Lick them. Wet them for me, you little slut,” I said affectionately. She obediently moistened them with a few swipes of wet tongue and I stared for a moment as her lovely smile glistened in the soft light of the hallway. Her lips were perfectly shaped, full, and exquisitely soft and pliant—a gateway to the most intense pleasure a man could know. The thought of my thick cock sliding through them and onto her hot tongue was enough to spur me to end my little waiting game. I released my grip on her chin and finally presented the object of her desire to her.

“Kiss it,” I said, holding my dick to her waiting mouth.

This was her signal that the teasing was over and the serious work of sucking cock was about to begin. The tension evaporated from her body and she relaxed and settled back, resting her butt on her heels and placing her hands on her thighs. This was her comfort zone. Elizabeth never used her hands when she gave a blowjob. More often than not they were too busy roaming around her little body. She liked to fondle her breasts, squeeze and pinch the cute pink nipples, or bury a hand between her legs to play with her clit. She especially liked to finger fuck herself to orgasm while she sucked cock.

She brought her lips to the head of my dick, pursed them sweetly, and reverently kissed the tip as though she were planting a good-night kiss on a lover’s lips. She was truly a phallus worshipper and approached sucking cock with respect. She kissed it several times again—simple, lingering, affectionate pecks—careful not to take it into her mouth until she received permission. When she blew other guys, Elizabeth usually ran the show; but with me she got to indulge her submissive nature in a place of safety and trust. She needed that in her life. It was the bond between us.

“Lick it, Elizabeth. Taste it.” I told her, allowing her to proceed to the next level.

Sighing contentedly, she opened her mouth, and surrounded the throbbing crimson head, about halfway down. Her tongue slipped out and scooped up the bulbous knob, frenching with it in a hungry open-mouthed kiss. I could feel both the warmth of her breath and the hot, wet silkiness of her tongue, and it was all I could do to keep my mind distracted so I wouldn’t cum too soon. She liked to take her time. Usually, so did I. A good blowjob required finesse and restraint, etiler masöz escort and she knew that the longer she took, carefully escalating her technique step by step, the more sperm she would be rewarded with at the end. But I sensed that this wasn’t going to take long. We were both impatient for release.

She continued licking the head for a bit, then removed her mouth, crouched low, and began licking the shaft from below with long, open mouthed licks, like a kid with a melting ice cream cone. I took a moment to indulge my inner voyeur as I looked down and studied the lithe young 19 year-old, on her pretty dimpled knees, contentedly servicing me. I took note to honor my good fortune as I watched, grateful, drifting into a meditative state of pure sensuality that I wanted to last forever.

But physical reality quickly intervened. I felt an electric jolt as her slithering tongue darted right into the nexus of nerve endings at the cleft beneath the cockhead. She knew her male anatomy; she was an expert at this, and worked the pleasure spot for a few moments with the flickering tip of her tongue. Then I sensed a warm trail of saliva being deposited along the throbbing vein as she licked her way down my cock to the base, stopping just short of my balls. She attached her lips to one side of the shaft and slid her mouth slowly up the pole, back to the tip. She kissed around the head some more, then licked and sucked her way back down the other side. This time she continued lower, planting soft, open-mouthed tongue-kisses on my balls—probably testing how full they were—and, satisfied, returned back to face my cock straight on. I could see the hunger in her eyes. She was aching to suck it. So was I.

We usually began the final step with some affirmation of her need—some dirty talk to enhance the act and to reinforce the nature of our relationship. It was a needed pause for me because I was already on the brink.

“So what are you, Elizabeth?” I asked her. We both knew the answers in this game, but it was a nice prelude to complete satisfaction for both of us.

“I’m a woman, Michael. I’m YOUR woman.”

“That’s right. Good girl. Never forget that.”

“I won’t,” she assured me.

“So, what kind of woman are you?” It was important that she always knew and accepted her place in my life.

She lowered her eyes as she spoke. “I’m a cocksucker. I’m a cum slut. I’m on my knees, where I belong. I suck your cock any time you want it, and I’ll suck any cock you tell me to.”

“Why, Elizabeth? You’re such an intelligent, nice young girl. Why would you do these things?” I wanted to remind her that it was her obsession. It was voluntary. It was her own desire, not just mine.

“Because I love to, Michael,” she confessed. “I love the smell of a man. I love the taste of a man’s penis. I don’t know why, I just do. I love the weight of it on my tongue. I love feeling smooth cock skin sliding through my lips. I love feeling the strength of a man when he uses my mouth for his pleasure. I’m a cocksucker. I was born to suck men off. I really love doing it. I’m not ashamed of it,” she admitted.

“What else do you love?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Cum,” she answered without hesitation. “I love the taste of cum.”

“You can have an orgasm when a man cums in your mouth, can’t you? You’ve told me that many times.” I replied.

“Yes, almost always—but especially with you. I always have an orgasm when you cum in my mouth,” she admitted. “Can I suck it now? Please, I want to cum so bad. I need you to cum in my mouth, Michael.”

“Not yet, Elizabeth. There’s something more I want to know,” I said. “I want to know about your feelings. Tell me how you feel when you service men.” I knew that her desire came from a place deep within. It was real. I wanted her to acknowledge it.

She had learned from experience that she loved the physical act of sucking cock. She was a sensual, highly physical woman. It just felt good to her. She must have had nerve endings in her mouth and throat that other women didn’t. Who knows? She didn’t question that part of it. But it had taken some time for her to understand the psychological nature of her obsession, the emotional satisfaction she got from sucking cock. She explained it to me, and for herself, once again.

“I feel useful and needed when I’m giving a blowjob. I feel like I have purpose in my life. It’s a wonderful gift I have, to be able to create such pleasure with my mouth. I love giving that gift to my man. What more could a woman give?” she asked rhetorically. “I get so much satisfaction from giving pleasure. I live for it.”

My cock was getting even harder as I listened to her smutty confession, and I was ready to move on at this point.

But she continued on her own. “You’ve taught me a lot about myself, Michael. How I have to be strong to survive out in the world—to be decisive and manipulative to get what I need. But that’s not really me. I feel most like myself when I’m on my knees servicing you. I feel feminine. I can be myself and give you my gift without fear. I don’t have that anywhere else in my life. I can let go and not have to be strong when I’m on my knees sucking cock. I can give myself up to your strength and feel loved and safe. Like I do right now,” she admitted.

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