Tales of MU

In Which Mackenzie Kind Of Sucks

I figured out pretty quickly that the bed wouldn’t work… too high. There were probably some positions we could work out with both of us on it, like him laying down and me bending over him, or him sitting and me laying, or whatever, but it seemed complicated, and anyway, I wasn’t about to get into bed with a boy I barely knew. Especially as he’d have to take his pants off.

I was kind of worried about that bit, too… was I supposed to do it? Undo his pants, pull them down, that whole thing? It was like the goodnight kiss that hadn’t happened. I just didn’t know what was expected of me. He ended up taking off his pants and underwear himself, and all at once.

He was already hard.

The only other time I’d seen a man in this state, live and up close, it had been Rorick, the faun. Amaranth had said he was just a little bit bigger than average. That’s the only way I knew on sight that Ian’s equipment was appreciably fatter than the typical gear.

Fatter?

That didn’t sound right. I mean, it’s an accurate description, but “fat dick” didn’t really have a ring to it. It was wider, thicker… I was really glad he wasn’t getting anywhere but my mouth with it.

I’ve always been bad at eyeball measurements, and I couldn’t have said if he was longer or shorter than Rorick, not without seeing them side by side, which didn’t seem likely. I guess that meant he was probably within spitting distance of average.

I’d only seen two penises in real life, and I was comparing them. What did that say about me?

He started to head towards my bed, but I guided him instead to the desk chair, turned around to face the room. He spread his legs and put his hand on his dick, kind of circling the base. He squeezed it a little. Why? I was going to blow him. Why did he need to play with himself? It seemed pointless, completely redundant.

I swallowed my questions… no sense making my ignorance any more obvious… and knelt down in front of him.

“Take off your shirt,” Ian said. I was surprised at his voice. It was softer than normal, but also… can I say this with a straight face? Manlier. I don’t know. It was kind of husky. It was nothing like Steff’s magic sex voice, or Amaranth’s voice of command… but it still pinched something deep inside me.

It still set me off, got me going.

Of course, none of that changed the fact that there was no way in hell I was taking my shirt off.

“No,” I said, very simply.

“Why not?” he asked. Okay, that was still husky, but also a little whiny.

“My mouth is right here,” I said, pointing. “There’s no reason for me to get undressed.”

“You get to see me naked,” he said. Half-naked, actually, but considering the half, I wasn’t going to argue the point.

“And you get to have your thing sucked,” I said. “You’re not going to see my boobies on top of that.”

Boobies? Who the fuck said boobies?

“Okay, whatever,” Ian said. “Just… get it over with, then.”

Shit, why was he being so pissy about it? He was the one about to be pleasured.

I closed my eyes and lowered my head slowly… then felt my nose brushing against the side of his tip. Oops. There was a little hitch in his breathing. I didn’t think I’d hurt him… had he liked that? I’d never heard anything about guys liking it when you touched their special place with your nose, but I guess a touch is a touch, right?

I pulled back a little bit and tried again, eyes wide open. Mouth wide open, too. I kind of angled myself down so my mouth was around the head of his shaft, open wide enough that I wasn’t actually touching it. It wasn’t very easy to do, and I felt silly as I did it… I’d have to touch it sooner or later, and I thought I might as well get it over with.

Slowly, very slowly, I closed my mouth… wrapping my lips around it… then immediately opened my mouth, yelping and jumping up and back. Ian gave a shriek at the same time.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” I asked, though I had no idea how I could have done so.

“No,” he said.

“Then why’d you yell?” I asked.

“I yelled because you yelled,” he said. “Why did you yell?”

“I… I thought it would taste bad,” I said, blushing madly. That wasn’t much of an explanation, I realized. “It didn’t, though.” Yeah, that was so much more of an explanation.

“You yelled because it didn’t taste bad?” he asked.

“Let me try again,” I said, as much to keep from answering as anything else. I got back into position, closed my eyes… remembered that this didn’t work, and opened them again.

I lowered my face towards his dick… lowered myself, and opened my mouth to encompass the girth of that fat appendage. I closed my mouth, sealing my lips around the end of it, just past the ridge of the head. My tongue kind of reflexively curled up, the tip dragging on… well, his tip… as it slid into my mouth.

It seemed like by rights, some disgusting, sour male taste should have been filling my nose and mouth until I gagged on it, but it didn’t.

It really didn’t taste bad. I hadn’t really gone through life putting my mouth on other people’s bodies, but it was definitely distinctly different from the taste of my own finger in my mouth, for instance. It was a little sweaty, but it didn’t taste like sweat. It tasted a little earthy, but not of dirt… and it was a little meaty, but not meat.

People talk about “male musk” sometimes, and I’m going to be honest: I have no idea what the fuck they’re talking about. All I can usually figure out is that men smell really bad when they sweat but some people find that attractive. With my face in Ian’s crotch, so close to his dark brown pubic hair…which, if nothing else, was an easier shade to name than the stuff up top was… there was a definite scent of what I can only call musk, if only because I didn’t have any other name for it.

It wasn’t a bad smell, any more than his dick had a bad taste.

Fucking gross, I thought, regardless… you just licked a guy’s dick. You’re smelling his crotch.

I wasn’t about to freak out about it, or anything… I mean, my mouth was on his dick anyway. But, the point of the exercise was to suck it… there was no need getting familiar with it beyond that.

“Do that tongue thing again,” Ian said, breathily. I ignored him… except for an attempt to roll my eyes up and glare at him which I don’t think he noticed… and then set to work.

I didn’t know if I was supposed to be sucking hard or soft, so I started out kind of in-between. I could pay attention to Ian and look for cues. That’s what lovers are supposed to do, right? Or sex partners. Maybe that was the better term. Anyway, he’d probably tell me if I needed to suck differently.

My tongue still wanted to come up and touch the thing it knew was inside my mouth, to taste it or draw it in further or whatever. I resisted.

A couple inches was plenty.

I knelt there, the end of his dick in my mouth, and me sucking away, for at least a minute before Ian spoke.

“You’re… oh… you’re not doing it right,” he said, which would have been far more credible a statement without that little moan of pleasure in there.

I did not disengage while waiting for him to elaborate. Was I sucking too hard? Not hard enough? He’d tell me. I’d be responsive. To my surprise, he actually put his hands on my head and pushed me backwards. He gave another gasp of obvious pleasure as my mouth came away with a wet popping sound.

Okay, so guys apparently liked it when you stopped sucking their dick… was there anything you could do down there that they didn’t respond to?

“I know you’ve never done this before,” Ian said. “But… have you ever seen anybody doing it?”

“I must have skipped that day in class… but it’s called ‘sucking dick’,” I said. “It seems pretty self-explanatory. I was sucking. What more do you want?”

“The sucking’s good, but… don’t just suck,” he said. “You need to move around more.”

“What, like, around the room?” I asked sarcastically. “Or just sort of fidget in place?”

“No, I mean, like, up and down,” he said. “On the shaft.” He opened his mouth and made a little back-and-forth bobbing motion to demonstrate, then appeared to realize what he was demonstrating and stopped, looking a little sheepish. I wasn’t feeling sympathetic.

“Look, I only said I’d suck your dick,” I reminded him. “Not a bunch of extra stuff.”

“You said you wanted to,” he countered. “If this is what you want, you could… you know… put some effort into it. I’ve had lots of blowjobs, and what you’ve been doing isn’t a blowjob.”

“Okay, fine,” I said, though I had some doubts as to the extent of his first hand experience with sex… or rather, his experience with sex going beyond his first hand. “What else?”

“You could do more with your tongue,” he said. “Not just on the shaft, either. You could, you know… lick my balls a bit?”

Lick his balls? What the fuck? I thought I was weird for having enjoyed it when Amaranth licked my ass… but I hadn’t requested that.

“How am I supposed to do that while my mouth is around your dick?” I asked.

“No, I mean before… or kind of alternating,” he said. “Like, switch it up a little.”

“I said I wanted to suck your dick,” I said acidly. “I’m not going anywhere near your balls.” Well, no nearer than necessary, I thought, though I didn’t say this aloud.

“Okay, whatever,” he said. “Let’s just try it again, with a bit of movement.”

“Fine, whatever,” I said.

I opened my mouth again and worked myself down to about the middle of his dick. I couldn’t quite manage this without actually using my hand to re-position it, to change the angle and guide it to my mouth as much as I guided my mouth onto it. Ian didn’t seem to mind. The thing kind of jerked and throbbed under my fingers when I touched it, even, and the slit in the tip began to ooze, just as Rorick’s had when he’d propositioned Amaranth in the hall. Seeing that made me hesitate, but of course, once I got my mouth in place I no longer had to look at it.

With more of his dick in my mouth, I had room to slide back and forth, my lips trailing over the space from about the middle of his dick to just below the tip, or head, or whatever.

“Teeth!” Ian said. “Watch the teeth!”

What a wuss. My teeth may have been the equivalent of enchanted weapons for the purpose of negating invulnerability, but it wasn’t like they were sharp, and I wasn’t biting down. If he didn’t like the feel of them dragging along his skin, he shouldn’t have insisted I move.

Nevertheless, I tried to open my jaw a bit wider and still push down with my lips. In the end, I curled them back a little to try to cushion my teeth.

That seemed to improve things a bit. Ian gave another little moan, anyway.

“More,” he said. More what? More suction? More speed? “Take more… take the whole thing…”

He was so fucking pushy. I had enough inside my mouth to move around a bit, like he’d asked. I had plenty.

Ian, apparently, did not agree. He actually put his hands around in back of my head and tried to push my head downward, while kind of thrusting forward.

Okay, that was not going to stand.

I whipped my head back to ask if he wanted to trade places, if he was such an oral sexpert… but something about the swiftness of my withdrawal, my lower lip and teeth trailing along the skin of his shaft and catching on the ridge of his tip, the upward motion as I jerked my own head up a little prematurely, the pop as his dick came free of my mouth… something in there must have really set him off, because Ian gave a shrill little cry that I could only deduce was of pleasure by dint of the fact that it sounded nothing like fear, anger, or pain… and his dick spasmed, squirting out his seed.

It didn’t take me completely by surprise. I had felt an odd jerky shuddering as I pulled myself off, and I had my mouth closed on instinct as soon as I was free of the thing.

I had never seen a guy ejaculate, even in pictures. I knew such pictures were out there, but I’d never cared to look for them. My main sources of information on the subject had been the clinical description of the act in health class, which basically just said that the male ejaculates… the rather flowery prose of the romance novels in my school library, which talked about the spilling of seed and unburdening of loins… and some really epic-level bad fiction on the ethernet.

To clarify, I’d never really gone gazing for sex stories. It’s just an inescapable facet of certain communities I’d belonged to since I was a kid, like the Mecknights fan fiction community.

Among those who love the animated adventures of the Mecknights, some of us had naturally tried our hands at creating our own version, in prose. I hadn’t done anything like that for years, but I like to think that I had been one of the better ones. Maybe if I looked at it today, I’d be surprised by how far I’ve come, but I like to think I was pretty good for my age.

At the very least, any changes I made to the canon were improvements done for legitimate story purposes, and I hadn’t felt the need to force the characters into improbable sex situations.

Ninety percent of the fan community had felt exactly that need, though. I’d started reading those kinds of stories at first because I had no idea what it was all about, and then I’d kind of go through spurts–or maybe I should say phases–of morbid curiosity, when I couldn’t not look at that kind of stuff.

I had eventually got the impression that a lot of the authors weren’t much older than I was, and that they didn’t know much more about sex than I did.

In fact, I thought it was likely that a lot of them were simply repeating things that they’d read in other people’s stories. There certainly wasn’t a lot of detail. “And then he fucked her so hard” didn’t really tell you much, if you didn’t know what “fucking so hard” was… even “shoving his dick in her pussy” didn’t really convey any nuance beyond what I learned in sex ed, anyway. There was a lot of talking about pumping and thrusting that didn’t really say anything, either.

The descriptions of the end product of sex were often a bit more luridly detailed than the actual act itself was, as that often formed the climax–so to speak–of the story… but they were still hardly an informative primer on the subject.

I mean, the first time I read a story where Sky Knight shot a “steaming load” on Annie’s face, I thought it was talking about… well, never mind what I thought it was talking about. I was like twelve, though, and already knew that sex was the absolute grossest thing in the world, even without knowing what sex was… I could have believed it was just about anything.

I figured out my mistake pretty quickly, though. The thing is, I saw that phrase a lot: “steaming load”, or “steaming cum”, or “hot, white cum”… or even “white hot cum”… as if the stuff didn’t just happen to be white and happen to be hot, but it was actually so hot that it was white from the heat.

Sometimes, it actually sizzled.

Coming back to the present… the stuff that came out of Ian and hit me on the upper lip didn’t sizzle. It didn’t steam. It simply wasn’t that hot. I mean, maybe my body was running a little bit hotter than normal, but it wasn’t even hot the way another person’s body was against mine.

It wasn’t as hot as hot breath against my skin.

His dick in my mouth had been warmer than this was.

I don’t know if it was actually cold, but it certainly felt cold compared to what I had been expecting… and when you combined that perceived coldness with the fact that it was wet and sticky, it made it seem slimy, like my face had collided with a nasty damp wall and come away with a bit of something that had been growing there.

Another word I saw thrown around a lot in those stories was “sweet”. Well, I didn’t exactly lick my lips, but I got a taste of it, and “sweet” wouldn’t be the first adjective I’d use to describe it.

You ever have a really runny nose catch you by surprise, and before you know it you’ve got a stream of watery mucous that’s gone down across your lips? And it shocks you not just because hey… snot on my mouth… but also because you can’t help catching a little taste of it and you totally weren’t expecting it to be as salty as it is?

Because, I mean, you never see those two words together: “salty snot.”

Or maybe that doesn’t really happen to other people very often… I think you pretty much have to be bawling your eyes out to have your nose running that quickly, and to not notice it before it’s dripped down over your mouth. Maybe most people are done with that kind of crying by the time they’re old enough to remember the taste and feel of it. There had been an occasion within my memory when I had, though, and honestly, the longer I dwelled on it, the more the entire sensation reminded me of it.

So, yeah, that was my first impression of having a guy come on my lips: it was like a really bad crying jag, compressed into a tiny sticky, runny ball.

Oh, and that’s the other thing… when you read about it, it sounds like guys can just produce streams and streams of the stuff, like they could fill a bucket with it. They make it sound like “swallowing an entire load” is the kind of feat that deserves heroic recognition.

Ian’s “entire load”, simply put, wasn’t that big.

Though, when I reflexively reached up and brushed it off my face, it seemed to multiply a bit… instead of getting it off my mouth and on to the back of my hand, I ended up with it on my mouth, my chin, my hand… and a bit on my shirt. Fuck. Why hadn’t I taken it off? I pulled it off in a hurry, doing my best to wipe my face and hand with it along the way. It was already dirty, after all.

I didn’t register that I was disrobing in front of Ian… and after the main event was over, even… until I’d done it and tossed the shirt aside. I’d sat back, but was still essentially down before him, between his legs, and now in my bra. He was sitting in front of me, spread-legged, pantless, and with the end of his now kind of sad and half-depleted-looking dick glistening with my spit. There was a little strand of stuff hanging off the head that I didn’t think was spit.

I suppose you can’t normally talk about somebody’s sex parts as “glistening” without making it sound, well, sexy… but this was just gross. His own… residue… aside, it wasn’t even gross in the “eww, sex… gross!” way. Mundane gross. It looked like something that had been inside somebody’s mouth and then spit out, uneaten.

What an astounding coincidence, huh?

Ian was staring at me, but it kind of felt like he wasn’t seeing me. I just sat there. Being topless, and having just sucked his dick and had his junk on my face, I felt like the floor was the right place for me. I’d let him talk first, make the next move first. I was inside my safe little submissive space.

That made me think of Amaranth, and Steff… I had expected either or both of them to be in the forefront of my mind when it came time to do the deed, but I hadn’t really been focused on anything except the subject at hand.

Or at mouth.

The whole thing had been a kind of unimpressive non-event… for me, at least. Ian had got off, so he had nothing to complain about. I sort of wondered if it would even be worth telling Steff about it. I mean, she’d know about it from Amaranth, but I couldn’t really imagine any way I could describe the encounter to Steff that would make it sound even remotely sexy or romantic. She could probably take whatever I did say and turn around and make it sound sexy, but I would have liked to have something to give her that she could work with.

When a few minutes had passed and it became apparent that Ian wasn’t going to say something first, I spoke up.

“Well,” I said, “at least I know I’m not a lesbian now.”

“Um… are you sure about that?” he asked.

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