With a newfound feeling of tenderness, I stroked her disheveled hair until her eyes opened. She looked up at me sleepily and smiled. "Lie back, I want to suck you again."
Oh, Christ! I thought. I didn't know if I could take any more of that.-I felt her mouth on me, slow and loving and great. She slid up and down my soft cock, drawing it out gently each time and moving her fingers on the inside of my thighs and underneath my balls, until I was hard again. She licked it from base to top like a lollipop, and then, using her hands, jacked me off, turning me onto my side. When I came she moved back her head about an inch from the tip, put out her tongue a little, and we both watched it squirt into her mouth, dribbling out the corners where it had almost missed.
Again she put her mouth over it, as it deflated, keeping it awhile and barely sucking.
"The whole night was like a dream," I told her. I wasn't sure that all that had happened was real. I wasn't even sure, lying there right then, that Mora was real. Maybe it was just a wild masturbation fantasy and I would awaken soon, in my own bed at home.
Mora crawled up next to me, took my head in her -hands, and kissed me. Our mouths opened and I felt her ejecting a starchy-tasting liquid into me. At first I thought it was spit, but then I realized that she was passing my own cum to me, for me to taste. Still kissing, I passed the viscous fluid back to her. We continued, holding each other loosely, until it seemed to disappear, lost in our own salivary juices or swallowed. It was a tremendously erotic experience, the two of us sharing my semen.
Later, she finally let me hold her, and snuggled her head down In the hollow of my shoulder. She seemed, right then, like a little girl. "Did you like last night?" she asked.
"It was the greatest night I've ever had," I said, and I meant it.
"It gave me great pleasure to suck you," she continued. "I'm a very oral person. I think most women are, but they're afraid of their orality, they smother it under feelings of embarrassment or shame and end up cheating themselves."
She laughed. "But even I couldn't do what I did to you last night with just any man. The thought of doing it with some of the men who take me out repels me. They may be handsome enough or nice enough, but I just couldn't enjoy doing it with them. It has to be a person who affects me in a very special and personal way, a rare person. And when that happens, and it's only happened to me a few times in spite of all the men I've known, then I enjoy it, I more than enjoy it. I'd been looking forward to it since the show yesterday afternoon.
"I love the feel of it in my mouth, on my lips and my tongue. It gets so hard, and yet the skin stays so soft and velvety. I love to feel it come, to feel and see your warm, white juice on my face and in my mouth, to see it come out, to hold it and feel it grow inside my mouth. And then I like to feel it grow hard again, to feel it gorge and swell inside of me and push my head up and away from your balls. I love to lick your cream and feel it warm and sweet with my tongue. The mouth and tongue are so much more sensitive than the vagina, you can really feel it so much better."
She stroked my belly absently with her hand, and brought up her knee, throwing her leg across mine for more comfort. "And it gives me such fulfillment. Women think they are fulfilled only when they have an orgasm, which means that a majority of women who can't or won't have orgasms will never be fulfilled." She paused, then went on. "Yes, I got more pleasure out of last night than you did. That may be hard for you to believe or understand, but it's true. The whole evening was a mental orgasm to me. "I bet I'm shocking you, aren't I? Telling you how great it is and how much I enjoy sucking you off. Are you shocked?"
"No," I replied, "not shocked, except maybe at finding an honest woman. But I wonder if maybe you don't enjoy the feeling of power it gives you over me, too."
"What do you mean, power?"
"Well, let's face it. You pretty much made me rise and fall at your command. And I'm so vulnerable when I'm in your mouth. Did you ever stop and think that all you have to is bite hard enough and I'll be a sexual cripple for the rest of my life? Or that by not biting, you're bestowing on me a form of grace? Because I used to think about it all the time, when I was hustling, that all it would take would be just one nut to lose a marble and bite me, and that would be all she wrote. And there wouldn't be a thing I could do about it.
"In a way, getting sucked off is the height of mutual trust, because the person who's sucking you has your sexuality in his mouth, and with one big bite he or she can destroy it forever. Like most guys, I'd rather lose an arm or a leg, or even my eyes, almost anything but my cock. But I lucked out. I figured out once that over five hundred guys sucked my dick and some of those cats were pretty damn creepy, but not one of them ever bit."
She patted my stomach hard with her hand, forcing me to double up laughing. "And I'm eternally grateful to every one of those five hundred," she said.
I moved in with Mora that day. We made six trips from Pacific Heights to my parents' house in the Richmond to load her tiny MG cockpit with clothes, books, odds and ends, and my shoebox. Mora said she would take out a safe-deposit box for me on Monday, as she was afraid to have all that cash around her place.
I left a note saying that I had moved out and giving Mora's phone number, but not her address, and was thankful that both my mother and father were at work so there would be no tearful scenes.
Then we went out to the beach and walked for several miles along the surf, holding hands and stopping every so often to embrace. We looked for seashells and played tag and splashed each other with cold, Pacific water.
Mora was radiant. Her hair was in pigtails and she wore men's Levi's and a plaid, light flannel shirt. As I looked at her, laughing, playing tag, with her pigtails whipping around her face, her eyes bright with life, it was hard to realize that this was the same girl who had sucked me off four times and had kept my cock in her mouth the entire night, the same girl who had pranced haughtily around a fashion stage just yesterday. There seemed to be so many sides to her.
I had to play a job at the Fairmont Hotel that night. We went home (I was already thinking of her flat as home), took a shower together, -and changed. I wore my powder-blue band cardigan and she wore a blue satin cocktail dress. Her hair was up and her makeup on, and she looked very beautiful, but not, I thought, as beautiful as she had looked on the beach.
The other guys in the band just stood there with their mouths open and their fingers up their asses when I introduced her. Herb bitched at me because my drums spent so much time in the back of his car. He kidded that he'd have to start charging me rent. Mora told him to cool it, because in two weeks I would be driving and in a month I would have my own car, which was all a surprise to me.
All evening she sat on the back of the bandstand with me. We were playing a private party and it was strictly dance music.
I learned something else that evening, pride in a woman. Several of the men in the band who didn't play with me often or know me well made veiled hints to Mora during the breaks that they would like to take her out, asking where she worked or lived. Her answer was always the same. "You'll have to ask Richard, I'm his girl."
Only once did I get upset, when the tenor sax man, who I didn't even know, kept referring to me as "Junior" in an effort to put me down in front of Mora. I told him softly that if he called me "Junior" once more they would carry him out of there in about twenty different pieces. I must have looked like I meant it, because he backed down, and Mora squeezed my hand, her eyes holding mine and sending strange messages to me. She had let them all know, in no uncertain terms, that she was with me and that she wasn't interested in another man, not even just to dance with.