Yeah, I've got an obsession. On the outside I look like a normal guy. I'm tall and good looking. I dress well, have good manners and make friends easily. Women tend to notice me in a positive way. I've got a solid nine-to-five job, a nice apartment and a new car. But I've got this obsession.
I'm obsessed with getting blow jobs. I know, I know. What guy isn't? But with me it's not just about getting them, but getting them from different women. Lots of different women. I can't meet a woman without wondering about if she likes having a cock in her mouth, how good she is at giving head, if she swallows, etc. Again, I'm sure there are guys out there that wonder about women like that, but the difference is, I actually try to find out.
A while back I decided that I should indulge my obsession. I should go out and get as many different women as I could to go down on me. As I mentioned, I'm a good looking guy, I'm in my late twenties and I can be a smooth talker, suave even, when it counts. So I've had a pretty successful time of it.
Fact is, I've been getting so many women to suck me off that I decided I needed to start this journal to keep track of them all. Each woman and each blow job is unique and I want to be able to remember and relive them all. I don't usually get more than one or two from any one woman. I figure most women are going to give their best effort the first time anyway. And unless there's a reason she can't--like we're in an unsuitable place or in rushed circumstances or it's been a while since the last time--I don't like to go back for seconds. I want to remember a woman at her finest, not after so many that it becomes routine.
Yeah, so I generally don't see women again after I've gotten them to do the deed. Does that make me an asshole? Probably. But I don't lead them on or give any indication that I'm looking for a relationship. In fact, I usually never sleep with any of them. I generally don't care if I even see them naked, unless it's somehow part of the context of the blow job. I don't mess around with younger women generally, unless they are obviously players. I try to avoid emotionally vulnerable ones too, although they're not so easy to pick out. I stick to the ones that are old enough and wise enough to see me for the self-serving jerk I am and are willing to blow me anyway.
* * * * *
My first entry, who was in fact the first woman to give me head after I decided to give in to my obsession, is a perfect example of the kind of woman I look for.
Anita (no, that's not her real name) works at the company I used to work for. I stayed in touch with a lot of people there and go to happy hours with them from time to time. They go out after work on Thursday nights and it's usually a decent crowd. Most of them are young and single like me, but they include everyone, so there's a broad mix of people.
Anita was not a regular at these happy hours, but she did make it out once in a while. This particular night was before a Friday holiday, so there were a lot more people than usual. It was also a bit more festive and ran much later than would ordinarily be the case. Long after the happy hour drink specials were over, half of us were still there, talking, drinking, dancing and just generally having a good time.
Anita wasn't part of the twenty-something crowd that went out every week. She was older, in her mid-forties I'd guess. She was divorced with kids, one in college and another in high school. She didn't dress or act like anyone's mother though. Her clothes were tight and often revealing, in a classy way. And her body was one that deserved to be shown off. She was petite, maybe five-one or five-two. It was difficult to say because she always wore high heels. She had C-cup breasts, lusciously curvy hips and terrific legs. Her skirts were usually to her knee or just above. She wore a lot of make-up, but not too much. She certainly didn't look trashy. She had shoulder length curly brown hair with blonde highlights that was always immaculately styled. She wore a lot of jewelry, none of it cheap or gaudy. Everything about her appearance was designed to make men notice her. And they did.
It wasn't just her clothes and how they fit her either. She had a wiggle to her walk that could give a man a hard on. She was flirty, bubbly and very touchy feely, at least with men. She was blessed with fine equipment and she knew how to use it. She thrived on getting men's attention, particularly younger guys like me.
At the bar that night, Anita was messing around with one of my friends, Pete. He obviously wasn't sure how to take it or what to do. After all, Anita was a good twenty years older than him and had kids almost his age. Anita probably loved making him squirm, knowing that he couldn't help being turned on by her, and not knowing if he should go for it.
I was watching at one point when Pete sat back, spread his legs apart and gestured toward his crotch. I couldn't hear their words, but it was kind of obvious what he was saying. Without hesitating, she stood up and reached her hand toward his fly. He jumped, twisted away from her and closed his legs. She laughed and smiled, her pearly white teeth and full, ruby lips taunting him as he blushed. There was no doubt in my mind that if he hadn't pulled away, she would have grabbed his cock through his pants.
She wasn't quite that brazen with me. Probably because she knew I would let her grab me. Not that she wouldn't want to, but it was a different kind of thrill she was getting with Pete. She wasn't taking Pete home. He was just a game she was playing. I waited and watched her as our crowd slowly began to thin out.
As I said, this was the time when I first decided that I wanted to indulge my blow job obsession and it was no accident that I was hanging around a bar where Anita was. I had often thought about her beautiful red lips, her ring-encrusted fingers with perfectly manicured nails wrapping around my shaft. I figured she would be a good place to start. I didn't know if she actually would or not, but she wouldn't get offended if tried.
When the DJ started playing, Anita got up and started dancing. She pulled a bunch of the guys, mostly the younger ones, onto the dance floor. Most of them went reluctantly and for good reason. There wasn't a good dancer among them. I waited until she looked like she was about to give up on them and then went out on the floor.
I'm no great dancer, but by comparison I was looking damn good. Anita smiled and said she didn't think I'd ever come out and dance. I smiled back, winked and told her she was looking too good for me to not dance with her. She said something along the lines of, "yeah, right," but her smile got a little bigger.
It was too loud on the dance floor to talk much, but I took the opportunity to make lots of eye contact with her and rub up against her ever so lightly. She was the one who raised the bar though, when she turned her back to me and ground her deliciously rounded ass into my crotch. When she turned back to me to gauge my response, I pulled her against me and gyrated my body against hers. She stepped back, but not in any hurry, wagged her finger and gave me her best you-naughty-boy smile. At that point I was pretty sure I had her.
"Let me get you a drink," I said to her.
"I don't know if I should," she told me. "I have to drive."
"I'll drive you home."
"I bet you will," she said with a smirk. "But what will it cost me?"
