“That’s where you’re wrong,” she contradicted.
“How so?”
“Sure, sex is a physical act, and for most men it’s almost completely a physical act, but for women it is just as much, if not even more, of a mental experience,” she said, which didn’t clarify anything for me.
“I’m not following.”
“Well, you get hard and horny, so you come, and then you return to your normal state,” she said. “Right?”
“Sure.”
“And then the cycle begins again.”
“A few times a day,” I joked.
“Well, for women, the cycle is a lot longer,” she said.
“Really? Please explain that.”
“Sex is about connection, intimacy and desire,” she began, “and a woman has a natural desire to please. So for her, the act of sucking cock is an act of real intimacy and giving, and thus, although our physical cunts aren’t directly involved, our mental sexuality is.”
“Mental sexuality?”
“Yes, we get stimulated by the act itself. As a man when you’re horny, your other head takes control, and for women it is much the same, but in our cases it’s our entire psyche that is consumed in a sexual act. For us, sucking a cock is as much mental as it is physical.”
“Feels pretty physical to me,” I joked.
And that is a major difference between a man and a woman,” she stated. “The mental part for men is almost non-existent, sex is just an act of pleasure, pure and simple; but for women, sex is connected with intimacy, and oral sex is about surrendering completely to a submissive act of giving pleasure. And if we’re fortunate, our surrender is complete.”
“Do you feel anything down there when you’re sucking my cock?” I asked.
“No, not usually,” she answered, “but I still get what to me is the important part, the mental rush of giving pleasure.” She then added, as she looked down at my still hard cock, “and as you know, I love the taste of cum.”
“Do most women?”
“No, it’s hit and miss,” she answered, “many women don’t love sucking cock, but they do like pleasing their man. Some women only swallow cum for the same reason.”
“Same for facials?”
“Yep,” she nodded.
I then asked about the other thing bothering me. “One more question: why do older women appear to be like you’re describing so much more than girls my age?”
“Experience,” she said, before adding, “and growing up.”
“Growing up?”
“Teenagers are selfish and shallow,” she answered.
“But isn’t it shallow to worship a big, fat cock?”
“Touche!” she laughed, as I approached close enough for her to stroke me. “But the difference is, when they’re still at a young age, girls don’t yet understand sex or use it to get what they want. When they get older, sex changes from a manipulative game to one of pleasure. I mean most teen girls don’t even climax from sex, and that’s because they don’t invest themselves in it. Instead, they try to detach themselves from it, and unfortunately for them, too often they succeed.”
“Really?”
“Sure, an experienced older woman understands her body, understands the needs of a man, and understands her own needs,” she said. “Plus, a woman my age still feels the need to be worshipped or wanted, which is why she is more likely to suck your cock to completion and not expect anything in return, while a teenager may suck your cock for a bit and feel like you owe her because she’s done you such a huge favour.”
“That I believe,” I laughed thinking of the entitled pretty girls in my school.
“Now, as usual, I’m stereotyping here,” she said, “there are some girls who discover their true sexual identity much younger. I did.”
“Because you were a daddy fucker,” I teased.
“Jealous?” she teased, before adding, “Since you’re obviously not yet a Mother fucker, poor baby.”
“Well, I did fuck Mrs. Dieks in the ass,” I pointed out. “She’s a mother.”
“Good for you,” she nodded, “now give me my morning coffee cream, you somebody-else’s-mother fucker, you.”
“If I have to,” I mock-begrudged her, wondering why I respected her so much, and yet not Mrs. Dieks, who I only could see as a three-hole cum slut to use whenever I needed to dump a load, not caring at all about her marriage or her husband… although she didn’t seem to either, since she’d let herself become my slut and seemed to be enjoying the ride with only the occasional worry.
After depositing my second load, this one in her coffee cup, which was wickedly hot whenever I watched her sip her coffee with my homemade cream, I headed to school.
I studied various girls I would like to fuck… wondering if the big, fat cock theory would work with them. I walked past our big-busted but ball-busting principal Mrs. Appleby and wondered what she would do if I whipped out my dick on her desk. I sat in English class and wondered if I could turn my out and proud lesbian teacher into a hungry cock sucker… did the mental aspect work for lesbians too? One would think so. But did it work only on cunts for them? Oh, the things yet to discover.
I got home after school and saw Mrs. Grady the minister’s wife from across the street walking into her house with a bag of groceries and the trunk of her car still open… wearing a nice dress and nylons. I rushed over and asked, “May I help you with those?”
“Oh sure, Kevin,” she smiled warmly. I didn’t go to church regularly, sleep being more important than a minister babbling on about money and our immortal souls, usually in that order, but Mom and I sometimes attended on special occasions.
I grabbed the only remaining bag from her car, slammed the trunk and followed her into the house. I put the bag on the kitchen counter and asked, “Is Mr. Grady home?”
“Nope, he’s preaching in Bigstown this week,” she said.
“And Tamara?”
“At college until Thanksgiving, I hope,” she said, unaware my questions had a purpose.
“So you’re home alone?” I said.
“Until Sunday night,” she said with a sigh.
“You don’t like being alone?” I asked.
“It’s okay,” she shared. “I mostly miss Tamara.”
“Yeah, that’s a long time to be alone,” I agreed, as I pondered whether I was going to try and get her, too. I wanted to, she was hot as hell, but part of me didn’t want to taint the image of her as a proud woman. Although if he had told the truth, my Dad had already tainted that.
“Too long,” she agreed.
“Did you know my Dad?” I asked.
She paused for a second, giving me a cautious look before she answered, “A little.”
From her visual cue I was now pretty sure the mom from the ‘mom and daughter in the church’ was her, so I said, “Actually, Dad told me he knew you quite well.”
“He did?” she asked, her cautious look now screaming worry.
Confident I was right and wanting to see her on her knees sucking my cock, I said, “Yes, he told me you really know how to worship, and not just at church.”
“Um, Kevin, I…” she began.