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Giving Lip Service

I am a wordy guy.

I love words. I love the way you can string them together and capture the imagination of a reader. I especially love the way you can use them to arouse the libido, to lubricate and engorge the soft tissues. I love that words alone, well-delivered, can make a person horny. Or perhaps simply enhance the resting state of natural horniness so many of us exist in.

To that end, I have here the story of my first encounter, up close and personal, with a warm, slippery pussy. Yup, we're talking full oral contact at the age of seventeen with that exquisite place in a woman's body which I have never tired of visiting. That intersection of butt, thighs, and belly that is the source of life both literally and figuratively - as giver of life at birth, and glistening, sometimes furry flower of welcome, comfort, and spasming release.

Imagine, if you will, a drive-in movie theater. If you are too young to remember one, then let me explain. Around dusk, on a warm summer evening, you waited in a long line of cars, very much like waiting for parking at Disneyland still is today. You forked over a few bucks and then drove over scrunching gravel to your selected spot, backing and filling until you had the front wheels up on the little knoll just right so you were looking up at the screen. Then you lowered your window, reached out and grabbed the speaker, and hung it on the top edge of the window. Yup, it was simple, glorious, crappy, monophonic sound. Soon, the cartoons would start!

Sure, it was a joyous place to go in the family station wagon as a child, to watch (and fall asleep during) shows like The Absent-Minded Professor (the original one). But the true calling of the drive-in was to enable teenage sex. Our parents actually let us borrow the family car, most of which were big enough in those days to host foursomes, and allow us to park said vehicle in a dark place where we could make out to our hearts content. Or at least until the midnight showing was done. Let me tell you, if the Ford next to you was rockin', don't bother knockin'!

When I came of age in the early 70s (by "of age" I mean girls were REALLY starting to seem pretty damn cool), I had my first serious girlfriend. We were seventeen. I was a cute but skinny guy who had a skill at making girls laugh, and so I managed to attract one of the prettiest blondes I knew. I will call her Brandy for this story, a slight misdirection. Brandy and I got into kissing and touching pretty quickly and I soon learned how to bring her to an orgasm with my fingers. Man, that was fun!

But this fateful night I had the nerve to ask her, cuddling in the front seat of my parents 1969 New Yorker at the Airport Drive-In Theater, if I could use my tongue instead of just my fingers. She hesitated and I wondered if she was going to say no. But she nodded shyly, and I moved down into the floor well (I?m not kidding, that car was huge ? you could land a Cessna on its hood) and pulled her panties all the way off over her ankles.

Gently pushing her legs apart so I could get in close enough, I could sense both her nervousness and her eager anticipation. I think she knew it was going to be even better than fingers, and I knew how much she liked that. She slid down in the seat toward me and I moved in. I got closer and closer, and as my nose and upper lip brushed gently against her hair, I could really begin to smell that delightful, warm, salty-sweetness that I now consider one of my favorite things.

I reached out with my tongue, searching for the slippery parts I had already been exploring with my fingers moments before. The first taste was heaven! As I started licking gently, and kissing her lips, she began to move gently and inhale sharply. As I pushed my tongue further between her lips, sliding up and down from top to bottom, nudging back and forth over her lovely little clit, she started to change from heavy breathing to soft moans.

It only took a minute or two. Brandy knew how to let go and let an orgasm overtake her, and with my head being squeezed ever more tightly between her thighs, she lifted her butt up off the leather seat, gyrating, taking me along for the ride of a lifetime. I always described her having an orgasm as, ?she comes like a fire truck!? By that, I imagined a bright red hook and ladder careening around a city street corner at about 45 MPH, rear end swinging wide, nearly taking out innocent bystanders, siren wailing and engine roaring, tires pounding against the pavement.

Lord, I can still feel it. What a beautiful sexy young woman she was! I never tired of getting her off with my tongue and lips, and I definitely consider this wonderful experience, back in the summer of 1972, as something that solidified my love of giving oral sex for the rest of my life.

Thanks for reading. Gotta run, I need a shower?

Goleta Gentleman