Usually I can suppress it. I can go months without the need creeping up on me. But when it does, oh boy, you better watch out, ’cause I can’t stop myself. And it don’t take much to set me off.
So I’m at this conference my company puts on once a year during the first week of December. It was my first time being sent as I’m the new kid in my department, but the rep who usually attends took some personal time to help with the delivery and care of his new baby.
No one else wanted to go so I was elected, unanimously.
Being the youngest member of the team I was excited to meet my counterparts from the rest of our division offices in North America. You know, put a face to the phone voice you deal with week in and week out. But it turned out to be more boring than I thought it would be, and by the third day, I was ready to go back home to my hum-drum life. That is, until our guest speaker showed up the last night of the conference.
He was the Chief Technical Officer for our company. I guess he was in his early fifties, average in every way except two: He had the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen and the most perfect salt and pepper full beard; just like the one my father has worn for years. And that’s the crux of the matter. You see, this “need” of mine all started because of my dad some ten years ago, when I had just turned fourteen.
It was late that night. My boobs hurt as I was going through another growth spurt. No matter what I did, rub them, wash them, squeeze them or stand in front of my little room fan, they hurt. To top it off, the more I rubbed them, the more I tingled down there. I decided to ask my mom to help me figure out what was wrong with me. As it was after midnight, the hall lights were off so I made my way down to my parent’s bedroom carefully. When I got to the door, I saw it was ajar so I peeked in. What I saw confused me.
My daddy was kneeling on the floor, next to the bed. Mom was scooted up to the edge and had her legs spread. Daddy’s head was buried between my mother’s legs. They were both naked. I didn’t understand but waited a minute to see what was happening.
After a minute, mom started moaning and twisting on the bed. Because I thought something was wrong with mom I walked into the room and asked, “Daddy. What’s wrong with mommy.”
I’ve never seen two people move so fast in my life.
My mother quickly swung one leg over my dad’s head and stood up then walked up to me.
“Oh sweetie. Nothing’s wrong. Come on now. Let’s get you back to bed. You can tell mommy why you’re up at this hour.” She walked over to me and put her arm around me.
“Come on. Let’s get you back to bed. Are you okay?”
I looked around her shoulder and saw my dad stand up. He was holding his hands over his penis to cover up, but it was his beard that got my attention. It was soaking wet, and matted. I wondered if mom had accidentally peed on his face. I thought maybe she was sick.
When we got back to my bedroom, my mom walked with me over to my bed. She pulled the sheet back, patted the bed and helped me get comfy. Then she sat on the edge of the bed.
That night my mom and I talked for hours. She had already explained the “birds and bees” to me when I got my first period, but this night, she told me just about everything she could about recreational sex, especially oral sex. I never saw the world the same way again.
Though my dad was a bit stand offish for a few days after, our lives quickly got back to normal. I started masturbating a few days later.
In high school, I gave my first blowjob and when I got to college, I offered my virginity to my boyfriend at the time. Both experiences were great, but I still felt something was missing. Over Thanksgiving, during my junior year at college, my boyfriend went home to his folks while I went to my house to be with my family. The Friday after our feast, I got a phone call from my boyfriend’s dad. It seems his son had a snowmobile accident and would be a couple of weeks late getting back to school.
I begged my folks and his to let me go be with him, but cool heads prevailed and I went back to school. Two weeks later, my boyfriend showed up to continue the semester. I was floored the first time I saw him.
He’d lost a few pounds and walked with the use of crutches as his ankle was in a cast, but it was his face that took my breath away. He’d grown a beard. I thought he was the sexiest man alive.
That first night back together, after giving him a blowjob, I convinced him to let me ride his face. I was in ecstasy. I came so much he thought I peed and I think it kind of scared him a bit. But me, I knew what had happened. I’d released seven years of pent up desire, getting exactly what I imagined I’d get from oral sex and what I thought it would be like the days after my mom had explained the “rest of the facts of life” to me back then.
Unfortunately, from then on I became a bit of a bore only wanting to use his bearded face as the instrument of my pleasure. After awhile the novelty wore off for him and our relationship slowly dissolved. Oh well.
I’m not one to fuck any guy just ’cause I got an itch. From then on I dated, but I didn’t seem to get a big enough spark from any of my dates to warrant sharing my sexuality with them. I did however, go away for a weekend with my old boyfriend, you know, for old time’s sake, but it wasn’t the same him being all clean shaved and such. The sex was nice, even welcome, but there were no real explosions from my perspective.
Then I graduated and wound up working for the company who had now sent me off to this convention, the convention where I’d just seen the man who I knew I was going to seduce, come hell or high water.
“Mr. Barnes,” I repeated. “I’m Susan Connelly. I work out of our Dallas office.”
“Nice to meet you Susan.”
“Thank you sir. Mr. Barnes…”
“Paul. Please. Mr. Barnes makes me seem so old.”
“Okay. Paul. Thank you for your insight into the problems our team causes when entering data that is not properly tagged.”
“I was wondering.”
“I was wondering if I might join you for a drink at cocktail hour. I have a bunch more questions and I can see the line of people wanting to talk to you is pretty long right now.”
“I’d be delighted,” he answered. “I should be down about 7:00 to 7:15.”
“Great! See you then.”
When I got up to my room, I was agitated. I’d never really seduced anyone before, especially someone so much older and distinguished. I debated whether to wear something low cut or sensible. I settled on sensible and to this day I’m glad I did.
When I met Paul for a drink, we seemed to hit it off right away. I kept the questions coming and he even said a couple of ideas my questions posed had never occurred to him before. I felt like I’d just been complimented on my violin recital.
After we’d had a couple cocktails, I asked Paul if he had plans to dine with anyone. He said he didn’t so I suggested we head to the hotel’s restaurant for dinner. He readily agreed.
At dinner, Paul ordered a decent bottle of wine, and by the time dessert came, we both had rosy cheeks. I suggested a nightcap and Paul asked me in a very matter of fact tone if I was up for anything else.
I leaned over the table and whispered, “you have no idea what’s on my mind. So, let’s get straight to the bar, do a couple shots and I’ll tell you exactly what I’m up for.”
At the bar, our eyes never left each other. I was smitten and I think he was feeling like a stud who’d just cut out a filly from the herd for his siring needs. It was going to be a long sex filled night. Or so I thought.
We decided to go to my room. On the way, there was much hustle and bustle by the hotel staff. Paul asked if anything was the matter, and the concierge indicated a huge blizzard was moving toward us faster than anyone had anticipated.
Oh goody, I thought, maybe the airport will be snowed in and I’ll get an extra few hours with Paul. As it turned out, I had no idea just how many extra hours I’d get.
We opened the curtains of my room to look outside and saw nothing. The sky was so dark the only thing visible were the snowflakes swirling up against the window and only visible because of the light coming from my room. It was eerie and made more so by the rattling of the windows and the howling of the wind.
“Goodness, this looks ominous,” Paul said. “It’d be terrible if we got snowed in.”
“Sure would,” I lied.
I went to the complimentary bar and opened a couple of scotches for us. We were drunk enough all ready, but something about the snowstorm raging outside made me think another shot might be in order.
I poured and we toasted chance encounters.
“Do you like oral sex,” I asked straight out.
Paul about spit his drink out.
“Who doesn’t,” he answered after he recovered.
“Well then Mr. Paul. I suggest we get naked pretty darn quick here and play a bit of give and take.”
“Give and take. That’s a game I really like. Who gives and who takes first?”
“Tell you what,” I answered. “I’ll give and you take. Then, when you’ve had a short while to revel in being the receiver, I’ll then take from you what I think you’ll agree will be a fair measure of exchange.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
Now there’s a goodly number of ways one can give a blow-job. But mostly, other than variations on physical manipulations, the difference really comes down to the attitude of the giver. Is the giver submissive, controlling, reluctant, enthusiastic, and so forth? Will the receiver even understand the attitude of the giver? But my attitude is to give as good as I possibly can so when it’s my turn I get exactly what I need in return. No arguments. I take charge. In this case, I needed to ride Paul’s bearded face like a Pony Express delivery man moving mail cross county. I meant to be saddled for a good long time. But, as fate would have it, such was not to be the case. Just as I took Paul’s cock in my mouth, the power went out.
“Uh-oh. I don’t think this is a very good sign,” I heard Paul say.
I suggested we better get dressed in case the temperature dropped before they could get the hotel generators cranked up. It’s a good thing I did because the generators took four hours to get up and running.
We dressed and hopped under the covers. But it quickly became apparent it was not going to be warm enough.
Paul told me to sit tight as his room was on the same floor. He went to get extra bed clothes but came back empty handed. He couldn’t get the auto lock to disengage on his room’s door.
It’s a good thing, I waited with the door open while he went on his little sojourn or he might have missed my room altogether and have been stuck in the hall for the duration.
For the next four hours, we just hugged each other. It’s funny how dangerous situations bring people closer, but in that four hour period of time, I felt, in the end, as if I’d always known Paul. And we still hadn’t got back to the sex.
It was at the beginning of the third hour that the bite of the cold started in.
By the beginning of the fourth hour, we were shivering. But there was nothing much we could do except wait.
When the lights finally came back on, I could see frosty air emanating from Paul’s nostrils and mouth. He looked like a Viking now that his hair was messed up. I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved for modern conveniences and I’d never been more in need of a good face-fuck, both as the giver and as the receiver.
I got us another scotch each to take the bite off the cold. As the whisky worked its magic, I sat on the bed huddled up against Paul.
I told him I was fine but my itch was back and needed scratching.
He laughed and said “mine too.”
I asked him if he thought I was pretty.
“I think you’re very pretty,” he answered. “Why?”
“I saw this video once where this very beautiful porn star got faced fucked by this guy. It was one of the most exciting things I’d ever seen in porn. I want you to ravage my mouth with that beautiful cock of yours just like the guy in the video did to that girl.”
“Wow. Your attitude towards sex and your imagination and way with words, is way more powerful than any little blue pill.”
“Prove it,” I challenged.
So he did. I don’t think I’ve ever been violated like that before. I asked for it and I got exactly what I asked for. My face was fucked.
When he came he came with a force I’m sure he hadn’t experienced in a long while. He kept shooting his goo into my ravaged throat in copious salvos.
I swallowed every drop sucking his dick as hard as I could even after it started to go soft. When I felt him wince with the pain of my forceful sucking, I stopped.
“Stay on the bed,” I commanded as I got up and went to the mirror. I looked a mess, but to my way of thinking, I’d never been more beautiful in my life.
“My turn,” I said returning to the bed. “You just lay there and I’ll do all the work.”
I mounted his face and he barely got his tongue in my cunt when I had my first orgasm. And they didn’t stop.
I rode his bearded face and came.
I rode harder and came harder.
I couldn’t stop. The harder I rode that magnificent face, the harder I came.
I soaked his beard a thousand times over and over again. I felt like I couldn’t stop or be stopped. But of course, all good things come to an end.
After who know how many orgasms, maybe a dozen or more, I feinted.
I remember dreaming of a giant polar bear rescuing me from a frozen ice-flow. Strangely, I wasn’t afraid. I was cold, but I wasn’t afraid.
When I awoke, it was morning.
The snow still fell outside, but the little daylight that made it through the window, illuminated Paul’s magnificent face and matted beard. I smiled.
I made coffee and the smell woke Paul. “Still snowing, huh?”
I told him it looked like the kind of storm that was going to last the day.
“Oh my,” he mused, “whatever will we do?”
“Each other, I hope.”
“You betcha, but I gotta eat something or this mild headache’s gonna turn into a full-blown hangover.”
We dressed and went to the lobby coffee shop. As it was late morning, there were few patrons left seated. Paul asked the hostess if there was any food left.
“There’s enough for today and tomorrow,” she replied. “But after that, we’re gonna have to ration if this storm keeps up.”
While we were being shown our table, I thought of the old time song that has the recurring line, “let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.” I grinned all the way until we were seated.
As we ate breakfast, I wondered what the hostess thought of Paul and me.
Every once in a while I’d catch her looking over at us. As she was closer to Paul’s age, I thought he and I probably made an odd couple. But that’s what I thought someone else might think. When I thought about itbthough, I thought we made a great couple. We both worked in the same industry, heck, we both worked for the same company.
We both liked rough oral sex. And if last night’s escapade was any indication I knew I’d found the perfect face for me.
As for Paul, he could rough fuck any part of me he wanted anytime he wanted as long as I got that face of his under me a good many more times before we had to go back to our “real” lives. So for two glorious days, we fucked each other ragged. He even taught me how to give him a rim job, something I’d never even considered doing before. I asked him to hose my face with his cum and that was one more thing I could add to my “now I’ve done it” list.
But, no matter what silly writers or movie directors want you to believe, even when you have a stud and a filly perfectly matched up, there comes a time when you just need to sleep. At the end of the third night, the storm lessened (at the time it seemed like a metaphor for our dalliances) and we slept.
We slept ’til 2:00 O’clock the day we were to check out and got charged an extra day for not leaving the hotel until well after 7:00 PM. But it was worth every penny.
At the airport, as we waited for our respective planes, Paul asked me if I wanted to transfer to his city and become his personal assistant. I hadn’t known it at the time, but he was about to be promoted to company president. “Only if you never shave your beard.”
He promised he wouldn’t.
Of course I agreed.
At Christmas, while I was home with mom and dad, I asked my mother if she ever wanted to have dad shave off his beard.
She said no, she liked him just the way he was.
I told her I understood perfectly.