Chapter 8

Despite the shame and guilt Nola struggled with, she talked with Quentin for nearly two hours Saturday morning-about pot. Not condemning it, certainly not encouraging it. One consoling factor was that there was nothing in his eyes to indicate he knew or remembered what she had done to him.

She just knew she would have died if there had been anything in his face or eyes that he knew she had gone down on his cock and sucked the jizz out of him. But he was quiet and polite and cooperative and told her that smoking pot was no big thing with him.

Her eyes rested on the slight tenting of the sheet and spread where his legs joined his pelvis. You got a big thing there, you oughta focus your fun-time on the best use possible of it.

"No big thing, huh? Pot. I'm glad, Quentin.

It's a foolish risk, messing around with drugs," she said. "You can do better things with your life and free time." To herself, she said, you can do bigger and better things with your cock.

She did not see Corbie when she left to return to her campus apartment-and was sort of glad and sort of disappointed. Strolling across the green campus, she meditated on what she had done-the first blow job she had ever given any boy or man.

For a moment, she paused to study the distortion of the color of the eastern sky. It seemed the smoke reached much farther south, toward the Utah capital, and north in the direction of Brigham City. She hadn't heard any recent reports.

A little uneasy, she turned again toward her apartment, her thoughts sliding unbidden to her own situation here-specifically to the inexplicable ease with which she had committed herself to sexual aberrations in such a short time.

Yet, now, there was no real sense of guilt- not after her consultation with Quentin and the assurance that he had no knowledge of what she had done to him while he was unconscious on the bathroom floor. Fitfully, she wondered whether she would have gone farther if he hadn't regained consciousness. Would she have removed her panties and mounted him like an alley cat and used his strong, young prick in her feverish pussy?

Is it possible, she fretted, letting herself into her quarters, that Bob's disturbing confession had broken some cord that kept her morals in check? And-Bob? She wondered what he would think about it? And her, if he knew?

Nola mixed a tall bourbon and water and slumped into her favorite chair in the living room. Is he really dedicated to undergoing that sex-transformation operation? What-her mind surged with electrical excitement-if she gave him the business? Went down on him? Gave him a hot, juicy blow job? Would that, maybe, make him change his mind?

Nola pranced to the kitchen, opened a fresh carton of cigarettes and returned to her chair, drawing deeply on the Winston.

She frowned for a moment. What if it didn't? Then she rubbed away the scowl-wrinkles with the tips of her fingers. So what if it didn't? A mystical flame seemed to burn in her mind and her belly at the same time. She had sucked off a boy; wouldn't it be many times better and more satisfying to gobble the cock of a grown man? One she cared about and would consider marrying? Wanted to marry?

"Dammit, why not?" she muttered, lighting a fresh smoke.

It was after dark when Bob rang the doorbell and Nola let him in. Instantly, she recognized the weariness in his strained face-and he was slightly loaded. "The fire?" she asked quietly, taking his left arm and tugging him toward the sofa.

"It's gonna be a bitch," Bob frowned as she handed him a bourbon and water. "You can see the fire breaking down through a narrow, steep canyon toward my project. But I think it will be okay. That crew I hired from Vermont is on the lines. That damned fire could break to the north and march right on the school here."

"Ooohhh, my, no," Nola squealed, frightened.

Bob patted her bare right knee. "Don't sweat it, Baby, some of my crew is setting up defenses and the superintendent sent the student volunteers and they'll be encamped by Sunday noon, being orientated by the professionals."

"That's a relief," Nola breathed-casually dropping her right hand on his leg-far up above his knee-only inches from the prominent bulge in his pants. Her fingers itched to cup his genitals and go right to work on them. "Another drink?"

"Sounds good," Bob smiled faintly. "Damn, I'm tired, though."

"Relax! Nap, if you want to," she smiled, kissing him fleetingly on the lips, her hand brushing across the fleshy sex region.

Nola mixed the fresh drinks, then stalled in the kitchen, putting a few dishes, glasses, cups and silverware in the dishwasher. She started a pot of coffee brewing, in case it was wanted later.

When she returned to the living room, Bob was asleep, head back on the sofa arm. She smiled tenderly, nervously, her eyes on the coveted lump in his pants. Quickly, she strode to the bedroom, stripped and donned a shortie robe and returned to the living room. The harshness of the raw silk of the gown rubbed delectably across the crowns of her breasts and agitated the tender nipples until they grew tumescent and hot.

"Bob," she said softly, leaning over the sleeping man. "Bob?" she repeated, louder. His head merely turned slightly to one side and he mumbled incoherently.

She knelt cautiously before him, her hands on his knees, pushing them wide. She inched forward into his Veed thighs. She rubbed her hands firmly back and forth on his legs, her eyes riveted on the tenting of his pants. He coughed faintly, but did not awaken. Timidly, hand trembling, she touched his belt buckle, undid it. She used both hands to unzip the fly and disengage the hook at the waistband. And the fly parted to either side. He didn't move when she unsnapped the band of his boxer shorts.

"Honey?" Nola said clearly. How was she going to get at him? Fingertips rubbed lightly, combing, through the upper fringe of his reddish-brown pubic hair. She removed his shoes and set them aside. She stood and leaned over him, perplexed and frustrated. She strode about the room, turning off all lights but the small lamp atop the television set in a far corner.

She returned to the sleeping man and pushed a hand into his left armpit. "Bob, come on and lie down. You'll rest better if you lie down."

He moaned and grumbled, but sleepily lurched to the left, onto his side. "Come on, move your head this way," she said firmly. He levered his feet and legs up onto the sofa and scooted his body. His loose pants and shorts skidded from around his buttocks, the waists at mid-thigh. "You sleep a little," Nola grinned, rolling him in his sleep onto his back. She seized the cuffs of his pants legs and tugged them off. A smattering of loose change rained from one pocket and she stooped to pick it up and replace it in his pants. Before she attacked the shorts, she stood for a minute, staring down at the relaxed genitals. "And you want to have that fine bag of goodies and candy cane removed," she pouted.

She dropped to her knees beside him, her back to his face. Delicately, she picked up the tip of his peter by a pinch of the foreskin, waggled the inert meat and let it fall, plopping up across his flat belly. Almost roughly, she pushed his thighs apart so she could inspect his gonads. She scratched a fingernail over and around the crinkled sac and stifled a giggle when his balls bounced involuntarily.

Slowly, she traced the fingernail up the seam along the underside of his limp peter, prompting a nervous wiggling all along the sleeping snake. The head flexed slightly as she delicately dug the fingernail into the slightly gaping slot.

Her left hand caressed over the roundness of his left thigh, into his crotch where she cupped his heavy testicles and lifted them. "Not quite a pound of raw meat," she gloated softly, jostling and cuddling and squeezing them, but she calculated there was enough meat there to provide meal after meal. "And your hotdog," she grinned, her passion rising like a whirlwind deep in her pussy, "could serve thousands of girls for another fifty years. You crazy bastard." She frowned, fingertips caressing up and down his dong. She formed calipers of thumb and index finger to measure his limp meat. "A damned good five inches, even when it's soft," she admired. She pinched down on the glans and lifted his peter, let it plop back onto his belly.

She could feel a nervous roiling in his husky nuts and thought she could detect a slow puffing and swelling. "Real balloons, they won't sail away-they aren't filled with helium, but gorged with lava."

Nola pinched the head of his peter sharply and Bob moaned. She whipped his penis back and forth roughly, like a ludicrous jump rope. She stretched it out like a noodle and squeezed his swollen balls impatiently. She curled her fingers around his meat and jacked it downward, tugging the skin away from the glans so that the corona was accented.

"You gonna get hard, Bob?" she restrained her merry laughter. "Betcha bare ass you do," she chortled to herself. Her hand tightened around his jock at the base and she rotated it, causing his meat to flail around and around above her index finger and curled thumb.

She leaned close to exchange stares with the snake eye in the tip. "Wink at me," she challenged, "and I'll bite hell out of you." She jerked her hand up and down on his dong, fingers clenching and relaxing and clenching. "Maybe," she shuddered pleasurably from the sharp needles of ecstasy tingling deep in her innards, "I'll bite you any way."

Nola puckered her lips and blew her breath directly on the bluntly pointed cherry-buster spear-tip. It expanded and relaxed. "Something's alive in this thing." She grinned and swallowed hard.

As she gazed at the purplish bulb, less than a foot from her face, an erotic fever began to consume her mind, exciting and lewd fantasies prompting hot flushes in her hard titties and sharp, almost painful twinges in her sex-channel. "Jeez, should I? And why not?"

Carefully, Nola wedged her right elbow between the back of the sofa and Bob's right flank, her hand holding his peter tilted toward her. She used her left hand to untie the sash of the gown and shrugged out of it. She leaned over his middle, crushing her feverish, pointy right breast on his belly. "One helluva mouthful," she gasped, tongue flicking at the slick-skinned point of his peter. She curled her lips about the tip and sucked tentatively. There was a thunderous crashing in her brain as she savored the faintly musky-sweet, salty flavor of his organ. She slid a little more of it into her mouth, her lips locking behind the fat-ridged corona. Her tongue lashed at the tasty knob and she pushed her face downward, the actions of her tongue feeding it into her mouth. "Glub-glub, blub-blub," she gurgled with the rich head against her throat.

"Carefully," she mumbled, swallowing spit and the tiny dribble of oil from his peter. She began swallowing as she forced her face down on his organ, until her chin was against the hard groin-bone.

Go down, get in there, she pouted mentally, using her swallow-muscles to compel the head of his dick into her gullet. The wadding of his meat in her mouth began to diminish and his peter was sliding into her throat.

Her left hand massaged his balls and her throat muscles continued stroking at the head of his dong and her tongue massaged the underside of his peter. It seemed all over her senses were alive so that she wouldn't miss any of the sensations of his prick growing to full erection in her mouth and down her throat.

Nola tensed her thigh muscles against the torrid pulsing in her crotch, crushing them against Tier vulva.

She stretched his scrotum out with her left hand so she could watch his balls throb and swell as she concentrated on the fantastic experience of having a man's cock fatten and lengthen in her mouth.

In seconds, it thickened to the point of forcing her jaws wide until there was a keen aching at the hinges. The expanding head and shaft so stuffed her throat she was aware of a choking, suffocating sensation and she breathed more rapidly through her nose.

Utterly fantastic, she thought, eyes unblinking on the big balls she was fondling with her left hand. She concentrated on grinding her hot, aching tit into his belly, reveling in the erotic glory of having his massive prick shafted into her mouth.

She wanted to begin fucking his cock with her mouth, but was reluctant to pull her face back, fearful she wouldn't be able to shove all of his prick back down her throat. She wondered whether she could make him cum by just keeping her swallow muscles and tongue active on his huge hunk of sex-meat.

A fluttering began in the long thick barrel of his cock and Nola suspected he would climax in a short time-and she so wanted to give him a good, long blow job and change his mind about having that stupid surgery. She pressed his balls upward against the base of his prick to steady it and slowly raised her face, his monstrous cock slipping from her mouth.

She slurped her tongue around the huge barrel and the massive head that could torture a girl's cunny so delightfully. Then she crammed her face down on him ruthlessly, shafting his spear back into her aching gullet. She gulped mightily at the almost brutal invasion.

Maybe I bit off more than I can chew-swallow, she scowled.

Bob groaned loudly and his ass bucked and Nola felt a surge of passionate elation through her body. And she again raised her face, sucking his big fuck-knob into her cheeks and vacuuming at the opening in the end.

"Oooohhhh," Bob groaned. And Nola was conscious of his head raising. "What? What? What?"

One of his hands rested on her bare shoulder and began caressing her back. "I like that," he moaned, his fingers and thumbs kneading the back of her neck.

Nola swallowed rapidly, took a deep breath and began mouth-fucking him in long, slow, tantalizing strokes. Each time she took the length of his cock into her gullet, he upfucked his butt, trying to drive it all the way into her stomach.

She quickened her strokes until she was fucking him off with her mouth in a wild, lascivious flurry of mouth and tongue. "Slurp-slurp; suck-suck; slish-slosh; slurp-slurp; gurgle-gurgle; swallow-swallow; slurp-slurp; gulp-gulp; suck-suck-a-long-f at-cock; blow-blow; slurp-slurp; suck-suck-suck-suck," Nola sucked his cock nosily.

"Aaaaggghhhh," Bob grunted, his butt up-bucking and fucking his prick rapidly into her mouth and down her throat.

Nola shifted around so Bob could finger-fuck her asshole and viscous pussy, not missing a beat as she fucked him in a frenzy with her greedy mouth.

When he shot his first wad of cum, she was on an upstroke and just the knob of his cock was lodged in her avid mouth. The bolt of white lava cannonballed against the back of her throat and she almost swooned. But she braced herself and dived her face down relentlessly on his massive hunk of cock, driving it back down her throat, swallowing frantically to take the profuse flood of jizz and not let a single drop escape to trickle out of her contorted lips.

"I love the way you sucked my cock," Bob said, voice wavering as his passion subsided and she sucked the head of his cock with famished lust. "That's one of the things I mean-about being a woman. A woman can go down on a guy and give him a blow job and suck the jizz out of his cock- and a guy can't. Without being called queer. Do you understand, Nola? That's why I want to be a woman-at least, that's just one more reason."

Nola spat out his softening dong and fled toward the bedroom, dragging the robe in a numb hand. She barely heard him call after her, "I have an appointment later tonight to talk with the doctor from Denver. Would you want to come with me?"