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 My tongue was starting to get numb. Was it the high-frequency waves traveling through my girlfriend's snatch, emanating from the purple vibrator I plunged into her, finally coming to rest on her clit along with my tongue? Or was it the constant massaging of said nubbin by my flattened lingua? Do you care? It was numb, goddamit, so I took a break for some dirty talk. "Um, sooooo... what do you think of Jill?" was the pointed query. "She's cute... " Sasumi chided back menacingly. "Why do you ask?" I hid my face between her thighs to obscure the obligatory smirk. She knew goddamn good and well why. Just a couple of days before, she had made a biting little joke about my obvious preoccupation with Jill when all three of us had seen the new Chow Yun-Fat movie.  It was all in good fun—we both fucked other people, though ‘Sumi's batting average was far better than my own.Anyway, the ol’ licker was back in shape and I punished her curt response with some slobbery attention. I had just recently discovered the buzz 'n' blow combo, and she was doomed to a great, big, juicy O. I pulled the plastic phallus out for a minute, just long enough for her to threaten me with physical violence if I didn't stuff it back in. I did her bidding, and instantly was rewarded with her satisfaction. It's an ego thing, of course, but most see it as at least mutually beneficial. 'Sumi's a sweet little thing, and I easily flipped her on her stomach, mashing her tits into the coffee table. I hastily assembled a couple of pillows under my knees to do her doggy style (so we could both watch X-Files, as the song goes). "Is this what you want to do to your little pixie?" she teased, feigning disdain (she was clearly attracted to Jill as well, as least physically... she didn't know her as well as I did). I loved her little games. I chuckled so suddenly I almost slipped out. "You'd like that, wouldn’t you?" 'Sumi was very evil. "Mmmm... " was all I got before another eruption. Then my own. 'Sumi took more of an interest in my laid-back stoner pursuit of Jill than she had for the couple of other dalliances I had procured for myself during the course of our five-year co-existence. Oddly enough, she was a valuable resource—Jill was a challenging combination of lust and leeriness, and I needed all the help I could get in trying to explore any kind of undefined relationship with her. Early on, Jill told me about her Asshole Dad. It never fails to amaze me how many Asshole Dads there are out there, and Jill's fucked her head up pretty bad. She was very secure in herself, considering the old man told his beautifully proportioned, shapely daughter she was so fat he considered withholding her college money. Drunken prick. I could stare at Jill for hours, like a mental patient, or the way Zippy the Pinhead watches a clothes drier. She looked very northern Italian (which she was), with a choppy pixie haircut, high cheekbones and tits so perfect it was like they were drawn in a comic book. I had never known a girl like her—clad in androgynous duds, she looked like a boy the first time I saw her come into Arcata's College Laundrette (possibly the world’s first 'drette run specifically for pot growers and acid freaks, with Day-Glo washers and driers and a full-time DJ paid in dope: me). Now, this sounds ridiculous, but I swear I'm not making this shit up. She came in with a load of laundry, dropped it on the floor and ran at me, because I was playing her favorite fuckin' song. I would never make up something so hokey, so you know it's gotta be true! Anyhow, I gave her a flyer for a rave I was spinning at and implored her to come. To my disbelief, she actually did—in a tiny, red sequined top that barely clung to her breasts. I hadn't even really noticed her before, and now I was hypnotized. Yeah, I know... welcome to subtlety! I'm a shallow cretin, what can I tell ya? We started hanging out more and more, mostly at her apartment because 'Sumi was cramming for her graduation finals. I was far too intimidated by her to make any kind of move. She didn't seem in too much of a hurry, either. We were both having fun being together and maybe we wanted to find out if we could fuck each other silly and still be interested when the grunting was over. So it was a few weeks before it became obvious something was going to happen. I guess it was when she sat on my lap, rubbed her candy apple ass against my dick and jammed her tongue down my throat... um, yeah, I think it was then. We would have fucked right there on her cat-thrashed couch, but she was on her period, and I guess she didn’t want to make that my first impression. I probably would have fucked her even if she had a colostomy bag at that point, but...  We did the whole anticipatory setup for two days later. I got the flowers and wine and all that fuckin' crap. I even slapped on Christian Dior's Fahrenheit for the special occasion. I was going all out.I rang the doorbell, my heart pounding like I had just smoked more crack than Richard Pryor and Marion Berry combined. She fawned over the clichéd tokens and let me in. I immediately sensed danger. Her nose wrinkled when I tried to kiss her, and she looked like she was going to be sick. "What's wrong, Jilly?" "I don't know... I guess I'm not feeling too good...” "Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to go?" She stuck the tip of her thumb into the right edge her mouth and thought it over. "I think you probably should. I'm sorry..." "That's okay," I lied. "Call me when you feel better." Not a lie. I couldn't help feeling a little rejected, but I could tell she was definitely not feeling well. I figured if it was something else, she would tell me. I have a strange habit of choosing girls I trust as sex partners. Maybe someday I'll be detached enough to fuck someone I don't trust. The next day, Jill called, and couldn't apologize enough. She beckoned me to come over immediately. "And can you do me a favor?" she cooed. "Sure, what is it?" "Don't wear any cologne." I got to her place and she paused for a second after she opened the door. Then she pounced, and her tongue explored my mouth like Jacques Cousteau digging for doubloons in an old Spanish shipwreck. I quickly asserted myself, pulling up her sweater and groping masses of tit flesh. My hands ran all over her body. Drunk with lust, I pushed her against the living room wall and ground my hard-on against the crotch of her jeans. Her legs wrapped around my hips and she ground back deliciously. Her cat rubbed against my ankles as we dry humped against the drywall. We stumbled over the futon and clothes went flying. I did the compulsive cunnilingus routine and she bucked into my face furiously. I reckoned Jill had been the victim of a NOB (Non-Oral Boyfriend). Next thing you know she's riding me like she was Debra Winger in Urban Cowboy. She grabbed me with her well-developed vag muscles and gave me a full-contact lap dance. It was amazing sex. Jill was really loud, too—her next door neighbor actually pounded on the wall at one point in mock surliness. Finally I could takes no more, as Popeye sez... I grabbed her gyrating hips and drove in to the hilt, shooting as deep as I could within her. She lay on top of me when it was over, and I had to ask what the hell happened the night before. "Okay, but this is kind of deep," she warned.  "I'm a deep guy," I teased."I know... okay, well, I lost my virginity to this jerky football player named Troy. He was the classic asshole type, I guess... he pretended to be sweet at first, but later..." "Anyway," she continued, "the night we first got together he made me suck him off, and he had sprayed Fahrenheit all over his dick." "Ack!" "Yeah, I know, what an idiot, right? But I didn’t want to seem like I was scared or a prude, so I did it. Luckily, he didn't last long and I had never had a guy cum in my mouth before, so I gagged and he got pissed off." "Charming..." "Yup. When he got hard again he fucked me. He was big, and it hurt, of course. And I bled so much! I swear, there was blood everywhere, and it got all over the cardigan sweater his mom got him for Christmas!" "Ha!" "Yeah, that was one cool thing about it... that asshole's sweater was ruined! But I swear, every time I smell Fahrenheit I wanna puke. So promise not to wear it when you see me, 'kay?" I got home and threw that shit in the trash. I never liked it anyway—I was always more of a Calvin guy.
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