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Monique [oral]
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Monique
by ShyBoy
I am a 29-year-old, healthy, American male. To look at me, one would not
suspect the sexual peculiarity that lies within. In fact, in all my
experience of cruising the Internet, or entering chat groups, or reading
adult literature, I have never heard of another who shares my particular
interest: I don't do straight sex; I love oral sex.
I have been asked, of course, why this is (or as one girl put it: "What's
your problem?"). No doubt there is some Freudian puzzle to it all, but I
suppose all I can say is: "It's the way I feel". Yes, I've had regular
intercourse before and, yes, I did find it pleasurable. But my phobia, if
you will, that has grown in my later years is: What if I got her pregnant?
I know that letting this phobia get to me is irrational and crazy and
birth-control is 99%, and blah blah blah. Just the same, I have
voluntarily eliminated the missionary position in my sex life, and I
haven't looked back.
As you can imagine, it is difficult finding a girlfriend given the
particular "constraint" I bring to the relationship. Check that. It is
*damn* difficult finding a girlfriend when you're a guy like me. You see,
it's not just the kind of sex I want, or the amount I want (lots), a big
factor is that I don't feel particularly comfortable talking about it!
Being online is one thing, but in real-life, how does one cozy up to the
statement: "I want you to suck me today, tomorrow and the next day, but no
intercourse!"? I mean, I'm not uncultured; these are sweet girls I go out
with and for some of them straight sex (regardless of oral) is nasty
enough.
Ever since I realized what I wanted in my sex life, my social life went
right down the tubes. I don't even mean that it was neutral or a little
bad--it was horrific! Some girls were outright offended at my choice!
Overall, the general impression I must have been giving out was that I
didn't want them for love, but to use them as a sex toy. Of course,
that's unfair, but now that you mention it...
If you know anything about being online, you can imagine that it wasn't
too difficult getting involved with the B/D scene. (As an aside, you
might be surprised at the number of beautiful and classy women who are
into bondage. When I walk down the street these days, I sometimes get a
gut feel about a woman and think, "Oh, she could be...".) For a while,
things worked out just fine. I would tell my slave what I wanted and as
simple as that she would do it! I admit that as shy as I am in many ways,
I loved being Master. (Four in the morning, feeling horny, "Slave, suck
my cock!" and boom--instant heaven!) Also, subs can be *extremely*
passionate--just the kissing and caressing would melt me. Of course, I
loved that too. Just the same, there were two problems that came up:
First, slaves like to be spanked and even whipped. What self-respecting
Master would admit to not wanting the opportunity to change an ass color
from ivory to crimson? But there you have it--it wasn't my thing. In my
experience, I didn't come across one sub who didn't want a beating.
Second, slaves like to get some, too! At first the pussy deprivation
would be "thrilling", but despite dildoes, vibrators, hands, mouth and
toys, the realization that she was not getting my cock in there eventually
took its toll. I mean, one time I had a girl virtually screaming for me
to put it in, but I was so pleased with my new life style, that I just
said no. In my mind, that was the key reason why we drifted apart.
And then came Monique.
True to her name, she is from France. While I'd prefer not to mention
town names, she lives about 30 miles from Paris. The way I met her was,
in my opinion, delightfully innocent. It was the summer of '92 and a
coworker of mine told me he and his family were hosting a college exchange
student from Paris, and would I be willing to play tour guide for a
Saturday? I may have been picked for my personality, but it probably
didn't hurt that I use to live in D.C. for about nine years and knew the
sights cold.
That Saturday, around noon, I met Monique for the first time. As I drove
up, she was talking with Sandy (my coworker's daughter) on the front lawn.
Sandy waved and went inside, I suppose for a pocketbook . When Monique
turned to face me, I had to smile to myself: Today's "work" was not going
to be work! She was slender and cute and had a darling smile. Her hair,
which was dark and shoulder length, was just beautiful and I suppose it
was inevitable that I should--even before shaking her hand--wonder what it
would be like to run my fingers through that hair. She wore blue jeans,
which while comfortable I'm sure, hugged her curves very, very nicely.
She wore a 2" leather belt that really accentuated her waist, and drew my
attention to her taut stomach. Her top was also form-fitting: a
multi-colored spandex short-sleeve with a little scoop "V" in the front.
Because of the elasticity, it did nothing to hide the incredibly sensuous
curves of her breasts, which I would say were "mid" in size and perfect in
shape. A definite knockout, and I suppose the only reason it was easy to
keep my cool was that I immediately assumed she must have a steady
somewhere in her life.
We made some small talk, but I can't remember what we said. I remember
looking at her eyes, which were warm and sensual. Sandy returned and
before long our afternoon of sight-seeing had begun. Other than being
with Monique, and on a couple of occasions having our arms brush while we
walked or stepped into a paddle boat, the day was uneventful. What can I
say? I've seen all these monuments a hundred times! Why should 101 be
any different? But Monique loved it--This was why she came to America.
Sandy, whom I didn't know that well, proved to be not much of a talker,
and even a little bit of a drag on the afternoon's activities. The
consolation from this was that as I dropped the girls off I offered to
show Monique some of the sights we missed at night. Monique accepted
although she already had dinner plans with her host family for the
evening. So Sunday evening it would be.
Naturally, I couldn't get her out of my mind. I fantasized about kissing
her face and her neck while squeezing her ass, and then helping her down
onto her knees in front of me. Her beautiful brown eyes would stare into
mine as she would coolly undo my trousers and lower them with my
underwear. Then she'd purr with delight at taking my cock into her mouth
and thrusting it down her throat. In French (which, coincidentally, I can
understand rather well) she would say things like, "I could suck on your
cock all day long". Yes, the thought of fucking that mouth absolutely
drove me nuts! But there's this funny thing in life called "reality" and
so the planning I did for our evening get together was of a rather
wholesome nature.
When I picked her up on Sunday, the wholesome part of me was soon going
down for the count. She looked incredible! Her attitude suggested that
this was not extravagant for her: a black leather miniskirt, a 3" black
leather belt with a gold buckle (and pearl ornaments on the buckle), a
maroon short-sleeve blouse, numerous thin gold-ring bracelets and a
stylish pearl necklace. Her hose must have been expensive because her
legs looked smashing. In what I thought was an interesting maneuver, she
wore low pumps when leaving the house and changed to 4" heels when in the
car. Finally, her make up, which while light, was exquisite. Her lips,
red and full, seemed to pout for being kissed.
It was a wonderful date, and surprisingly, was dictated by her. She
wanted to visit a friend of hers, another exchange student who was staying
about 15 miles away. As we drove, I finally got a chance to ask some of
the more personal questions, and lo and behold she was not dating anyone.
Her last boyfriend from eight months ago had apparently really broken her
heart. She absolutely flattered me with her reaction to the news that I
was not seeing anyone. "Pas toi? Not you?", she exclaimed with wide
eyes. She asked why and I found some way to dodge the question figuring
I'd drop that bomb, if I had to, at a more appropriate time.
When we arrived at the house where her friend Julienne was staying,
Julienne greeted her entirely in French: "Monique, you have a boyfriend
already!" Neither girl knew that I understood what was being said and
like the caddy American I was, I wore a facade of ignorance. It was
difficult, however, to keep any calm look when Monique replied (also in
French), "No, no, I only wish it!" And then Monique goes on to explain
how nice I have been and how I'm taking her to sightsee tonight and later
on to dance. They talked in the living room for a while, and I sat next
to Monique on the couch. Now and then, she'd feed me some tidbit in
English so I wouldn't feel left out of the conversation. I really
couldn't keep it up though, so at one point when Julienne said, "Well, you
are with a very handsome man tonight," I replied in my best French: "That
is very kind of you to say." We all burst out laughing and Monique
started hitting me with a sofa pillow.
At last we left, continued sightseeing from the day before, and before
long had settled into a booth at one of those nice night clubs where you
don't have to shout to be heard. We talked and danced and drank and
really had a great time getting to know each other.
As the place was starting to close down around 1:00 am, we had our fourth
slow dance of the evening, but this time, I couldn't help myself. Tilting
my head a little, I kissed her on the lips, and a rush went through my
body as she returned the kiss. When the dance was over, I could only
smile, take her by the hand, and walk back to our booth.
Oh, it was so wrong! How could I do this to this adorable girl? Of
course, she was picturing more than giving me blow jobs all the time, and
that's if she gave them at all. Still, I couldn't help but kiss that
beautiful girl some more. Later though, in the car, she saw me sober up.
"What is it?" she asked gently, realizing, I think, that she was about to
hear why I wasn't seeing anybody. And I told her. God, it was difficult,
but I told her. It can be embarrassing to share a part of your life that
you don't fully understand yourself. But I did it. I told her that
straight sex (because of a translation problem, I had to explain it to her
as "vaginal sex") was too troubling for me and I only wanted "other
stimulation".
Realizing that I had just shared something very personal to me, she softly
stroked my cheek with the back of her hand and moved in closer than she
already was. We had parked in a far corner of an enclosed lot, so there
wasn't enough lighting to clearly see her facial reaction. But I
definitely could hear her, and after making a few "tsk tsk" sounds, she
said (in English), "Silly boy...silly boy".
Then casually and lovingly, her soft hands descended on my pants, first
undoing my belt, and then slowly pulling my zipper down. I was clearly
affected and gulped hard, to which she giggled a little and kissed me on
the cheek. I had to lift my ass up for a moment when she pulled my
trousers down, leaving me in my underwear. She caressed my balls through
the cotton briefs and rolled her fingers over the exposed part of my penis
that the briefs couldn't contain. I remember saying something stupid
like, "But I'm going to want this all the time," which I thought would
make me sound sexy. But Monique could save me from anything and she
kissed me and purred, "Mmm".
She lowered her head toward my crotch gradually, and then with one gesture
she grabbed the front of my underwear and pulled toward my ankles.
Instinctively, I raised my ass and freed my cock. As I mentioned before,
it was dark, and for a few moments her head hovered about six inches above
my cock. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it until I felt a strand of
warm spittle gently rest itself on the head of my cock and continue down
the shaft to my balls. It was then that her mouth and tongue followed,
finding the spittle that was there and spreading it around with kisses and
licks. Oh, it was heaven! She had to handle my cock with her hand to
make sure she could get to all sides, but she was careful not to stroke
me, lest I come prematurely. The sounds from her were delightful, 'mmm's
and 'ah's when kissing and licking. Just those sexy sounds alone could've
made me come, but she had other plans. While gently holding my cock in
her fist, she leaned back and stuck her tongue in my ear.
"Oh, God, Monique," I mumbled in ecstasy.
Then she whispered in my ear: "You say I have to do this to you every day?
Do you promise?"
My head eased back and I breathed, "Oh, God"! She was playing me
masterfully. Again she lowered her head to my crotch, but this time she
went right for the source. Kissing the head of my cock, she let it push
through her lips and enter her mouth. At this my head swooned and I
gasped an "Oh". She sucked on the head for a brief moment and then
continued down some more. I could feel the pressure of her lips at the
base of my cock. And, expertly, she increased the pressure in her mouth.
Pulling back, she went as far as my cock head, but didn't let it leave her
mouth. Down she went again, this time a smooth deep throat. She repeated
her oral caresses and in a couple of minutes, I was very close to the
edge. "I'm going to come," I moaned. Her hand cupped my balls gently and
softly giggled them, as if to encourage a maximum ejaculation. Then, on
one of her glorious downward strokes, it happened. I began to orgasm.
Her head continued its up/down movements for a few moments, without
releasing the pressure on my cock. As I asked her to slow up, she began
swallowing as best she could. After my cock left her mouth, she continued
to give it attention, licking the shaft and head for any cum she missed.
It was an incredible blow job, and by the time I dropped her off at the
house, I was still recouping from it. In a daze, I waved good night,
leaving her to explain why I returned her several hours late.
The next morning, I have to admit, it seemed like a dream. It wasn't a
dream, I knew, but I mean that we had been drinking and things had gotten
crazy very quickly. In short, I was concerned that Monique had woken up
thinking, "What a mistake!"
That morning, around 10:00 am, she called me! Without so much as a word
about last night, she said that so-and-so was giving a speech at the
University around 1:00 pm and would I take her? Of course! I had already
called my boss on the weekend to ask for Monday off, so the day was clear.
When I picked Monique up at 12:30, she got in and, ironically, said the
words that I had feared: "I made a mistake." But she continued: "The talk
is not until three, but I'm glad you came early because there are other
things to do." "Oh, what other things?" I asked, thinking there was some
sightseeing she hadn't told me about. "Take me to that park," she said,
and I knew the one she meant because I had mentioned it in conversation
the day before.
As we talked, I became very relieved that she did not have regrets about
last night. I sensed she didn't want to talk about it right then, and I
had no problem with that. When we arrived at the park, we drove down the
forest path to find that the lot was virtually empty. She guided me to
park in a secluded corner. My heartbeat started to pick up.
After I stopped the car, she moved in to my chest and kissed me. She
tugged my shirt up out of my pants and rolled it to my neck. She began
tonguing and kissing my nipples, first one for a few moments, and then the
other. "My god, Monique, you're incredible," was all I could say.
Soon she had my belt unbuckled and my pants and underwear off. She made
some comment about my briefs being an inconvenience and asked that I not
wear them anymore. I nodded mechanically, awe struck by this woman. Then
the sucking began. There wasn't a lot of oral foreplay this time; she
went straight to deep throat. There was variation though. She would suck
and then lick and then kiss making sure that no pattern was set. She had
a fantastic ability to know when I was getting close, and would invariably
change the technique or the intensity if she thought I was about to come.
I happen to have a clock on my dashboard, and after a while I noticed that
she had been going at it for fifteen minutes. For whatever reason, I made
a comment letting her know. She looked up, saw the clock, and said: "We
can stop at two". At two! It was 1:15! She was going to suck my cock
for 45 more minutes! I just sat back and let her take me to heaven. And
I was in heaven. At times I got very close because she is an
extraordinary fellatrix. She knew how to calm me down though, and all
that came out was precum. If she thought I was too close, she'd release
my cock and just suck on my balls. After a few minutes, she'd work back
up to deep throating me again.
We both knew when 2:00 was at hand, so pushing her hair behind her ears,
she began to prepare for a large load. I didn't even say a word. She
knew it was time, so I just closed my eyes and when I was ready, I gushed.
A few moments later, after I opened my eyes, she was licking the shaft
and parts of my lower belly to get all the come that had snuck out while
she was trying to swallow.
The adventures of Monique and myself continued for the next two months.
We tried for a while to make sure she swallowed some of my come on every
day of her visit, but scheduling didn't permit it and we probably missed
about five days total. Still, there were other days when I came five or
six times down her throat. Of course, she became very adept at
maneuvering around in my car, but otherwise, we rented hotel rooms, or
found secluded wooded areas.
I was beginning to fall in love with her, I think, but as her visit was
winding down, I began to suspect that she yearned for a cock to go
you-know-where. I asked her about it and she said no, she enjoyed the
"rule" I had set up. But there were certain vibes I got, and signs I saw
that made me think my theory was not off-the-wall.
On the day she left, my coworker and his family said their goodbyes early
to Monique at the airport. That way, I could be the last to see her off.
The moment they were out of sight, she took me by the hand and started
walking me through the airport, looking for a "special place". It was
incredible: she was looking to give me a final blow job in the airport!
Before I tell you what happened, let me just say that it is a fascinating
experience in itself walking through an airport scouting out places to
receive a blow job! Believe it or not, we found a place in about fifteen
minutes. My back was up against a wall as Monique kneeled before me in
our now familiar positions. While I was a little nervous and had to
suppress the sounds of ecstasy I was used to making, I came one final time
in my lovely Monique's mouth. She zipped me up and stood before me
without saying a word. Then, looking me in the eyes lovingly, she slowly
parted her lips and opened her mouth. She hadn't swallowed yet. Looking
as if she were on the verge of orgasm, her tongue rolled my cum around in
her mouth while she breathed sensually. Finally, she reverently closed
her lips and closed her eyes, and swallowed.
Within two hours from that moment in paradise, Monique was on her way
home.
Of course, we both said we'd stay in touch, but within four months I
learned she was living with the boyfriend who had broken her heart the
year before. I really didn't understand this since she never once had a
kind word to say about him when she shared with me.
Life rolls on, of course. There is little to confess about my social life
since then; it hardly merits attention. Monique was special, and if a
little deviant, I thank my lucky stars that it was with me.
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