My dirtiest blowjob story ever, in Tasting Him

Guess what? Tasting Him: Oral Sex Stories is out now! In stock on Amazon.com and everything. Contributors are receiving their copies (though mine have yet to arrive!), and I thought I’d share part 1 of my story “Gloss,” which I used to call “the dirtiest story I’ve ever written.” That might still be applicable, I’m not sure, but it’s definitely an unabashed homage to my love of cocksucking (and it’s fiction, fyi).

Gloss
Rachel Kramer Bussel

Standing in front of the mirror, I apply the gooey liquid to my lips until they shine like glass, not gooey but slick and hard, almost icy. I’m keeping in mind my friend Alice’s advice that “lip gloss should look like you’ve just given someone a blow job.” Whether or not they fulfill this maxim, I know my lips will be the main attraction tonight, which is precisely the idea. They are slick and shiny, like a red race car, boldly drawing attention to themselves, whether the viewer wants to look or not. The rest of my ensemble works, too–clingy black top and short, tight black PVC skirt. But I want people’s eyes firmly on my lips.

I head over to the bar, a plush new one that’s just opened. I’ve been lucky enough to land a coveted invitation to this private party, and I know the crowd will be the cream of the crop. I could have brought a guest, but tonight is by necessity a solo excursion. I’m on a specific mission and need to conduct it in my own way. Finding the right man for a one-night stand, for an electric connection that burns and sizzles as fast and hot as a firecracker, and lasts about as long, requires a unique combination of savvy and intuition and I can’t have any distractions.

Red is the theme of the night, with lush red curtains and a deep garnet shade painted on the walls. I order the watermelon martini, the night’s special, and perch on the bar stool. My legs are tucked under the bar and I don’t bother to showcase them, even though I know they’re magnificent. I’m alone and know exactly what I wantæa hot guy, a stud, someone to entertain me for tonight and tonight only. Someone with a cock that’s hard and hot and needy, just for me. As I close my eyes and lean forward to sip the cold, sweet drink, I feel a presence behind me. After I swallow, I slowly sit up in my chair, leaning back ever so slightly and brushing against the shirtfront of a very slick, well-dressed, handsome man. Not a cute, shaggy hipster like I normally meet or a yuppie Wall Streeter straight out of college, but a real man–a little older, crisp and clean, sophisticated.

I slowly swivel my stool around to look at him, our gazes holding. My knees skim his thighs, and instead of smiling, I reach for my glass and bring it to his lips. The ghost of a smile forms on his face as he lets me tilt the icy red liquid down his throat. I bring the glass back to my own lips and sip again, slowly and deliberately, still meeting his gaze. I’m vaguely aware of the crowd surging around us, the commotion at the bar, but this stranger is occupying the bulk of my attention. I have the urge to wrap my legs around his waist and draw him closer, but I stay composed. I open my mouth, searching for a witty line to introduce myself, but the longer we stare at each other, the more difficult words become.

Instead, I take his left hand and bring it to my mouth, sliding his index finger inside and then carefully sliding it out, my tongue pressing against it the entire time. I push it back in again and repeat the process, this time lightly grazing my teeth along his slightly roughened skin. As I’m about to go for a third round, he moves his hand and trails his wet finger along my neck, ending at the neckline of my dress, his hand resting on my chest.

He reaches his hand out for mine and even though I have half a drink left, I let him lead me into the unisex single-occupancy bathroom. As befits the rest of the décor, the bathroom is lush and lavish, with red tiles and smooth surfaces and a sumptuous upholstered chair along with the sink and toilet. I look up at him, my lips slightly pursed, poised to smile or laugh or smirk, not letting him know which one it will be yet. I keep my eyes locked on his as my hand goes to his crotch, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. I like that I’m in control here, that even though I just met him, I know that he’s at my mercy. He led me here but now I will be leading him. Even down on my knees, I will be the one in control and that thought sends a shiver through my body. Ignoring the chair for a moment, I step closer and then drag myself down his body, my breasts sliding along his torso, my nipples hardening at the friction as I sink to the floor. It’s hard to keep my commanding gaze as I look up at him, but somehow I manage even though inside I’m melting. I close my eyes for a second as my hand reaches up reverently to stroke his cock through his pants.

I glance briefly at the chair but then realize that I like it better down here on the cold floor, the tiles pressing into my knees as I fumble with his belt buckle. I’m soaking wet and will surely have to remove my panties later, but for the moment all I care about is his cock and getting it into my mouth. He helps me undo his zipper and before his pants are even pushed down his thighs, I’m leaning forward, my tongue darting forth to lick a slow, teasing line along the length of his cock. I move closer so my knees are pressed up against the sides of his shoes, my legs slightly spread as I try to taste all of him at once. He sighs and groans and I look up at him for a moment, no longer smirking at all, simply acknowledging how right it feels to be here in front of him. His eyes are almost too intense and I close mine before guiding the length of his smooth, warm cock into my mouth, going slowly until I have all of him inside of me…..

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