My Favorite Stop Light - or How I Learned To Swallow Him Whole

My college boyfriend Victor was never one to mess with words. If he wanted something, he would ask for it and I... nineteen years old and head over heels in love... would do my best to make sure he got it. Especially in the bedroom. Or the football field. Or the restroom in an expensive restaurant. Or... or... or.

So when he picked me up one evening in the car he'd been talking about getting for months, a two year old Toyota that his folks had got tired of, it didn't take long for him to start talking about christening it.

I looked around. I wanted to tell him it would be a bit of a squeeze... it wasn't the biggest car in the world, after all. But I didn't want to disappoint him, or leave him thinking that I wasn't super-super impressed by his wheels. because I was. He was the first guy I dated who owned anything more than a bucket of rust, and we'd already spent countless nights planning the trips we were going to take in it. Tonight, though, we were simply driving through downtown, while I wondered how to make sure he remembered this evening forever.

"Definitely we need to christen it," I said. And, at the back of my mind, I knew precisely what kind of ceremony we should have.

He'd pulled up at a stop light as I turned, reached down, and unbuckled his pants; he laughed as he raised his ass off the seat, and I laughed when I saw he already had a stiffie. "Looks like you were starting without me," I said, and he grinned. "You'd better get caught up then, hadn't you." And just as the light began to change, his hand left the wheel and clamped around my scalp, pulling me down to his cock.

One thing I should tell you about Victor. He was big. Big in length, big in diameter. The first time I went down on him, I thought my head was going to rip in half and I'd spend the rest of my life looking like little brother Ike in South Park. But of course I got used to it... or, rather, my jaw did... and he slipped in like butter. But not down. No matter how hard I tried, I'd never been able to get more than halfway down his shaft, and believe me, I did try.

Victor never complained; he was just grateful to have a girlfriend who loved sucking cock... his cock, anyway; he was horribly jealous about my previous boyfriends... as much as I did. So I sank down and sank him, grateful that his car was a smart automatic, so there was no gear stick to jab me anywhere delicate, and grateful as well when I felt him turn the wheel and head off down a side street where the lighting wasn't so vivid and there were less passers-by.

Now, there were nights when I want to give a virtuoso performance, licking and biting and nuzzling and sucking, giving him every thrill I could imagine, and giving myself even more in the process. And there were nights when I was just hungry, and wanted to devour him as roughly as possible, sucking hard and bobbing madly, bringing him off as quickly as I could, so his cum geysered out and sluiced down my throat. Tonight was one of those nights. Years later I look back and wonder if that wasn't just a little dangerous - I mean, there he was, at the wheel of a moving vehicle, and he probably didn't have more than 10% of his attention on his driving. Another reason I was glad we were on an empty street. If it got too much, he could just pull over.

Which, when he slowed, is what I thought he was doing, and that was my cue to go even wilder. I'd already taken him deeper than I ever had before, I knew that. His helmet was tapping my gag reflex and I was doing my best to control it, like the girls that I'd read about in certain magazines. Plus, I was moving so fast that as soon as it tipped, he was away again and the crisis was over.

And then everything happened at once. The car stopped and the interior lit up. There were voices outside and Vic said "oh shit" - and suddenly I was in total darkness as he dropped his jacket over my head; and in total crisis as he leaned forward and down, pushing my head deeper onto his cock, and it was so hard and so fast that this time, the gag reflex didn't even have the opportunity to register. He was so far past it that he was halfway down my throat, and I was still trying to work out what on earth had happened when POW! He came so hard that I might have been blown back across the car if he'd not still been resting all his weight on my head.

I didn't have to swallow, I didn't have to think. His come shot straight down my throat and in that same amazing moment, I felt myself coming too... which is when the car began moving again and we were away.

I disentangled myself from his jacket, sat up and kissed his cheek.

"What happened back there?"

"Just a stop light," he said, as calm as you like. "But there were a few people out on the sidewalk by Black Angus, and I didn't want them looking in while they were checking out the car. Problem?"

"No, no problem," I said, and I wondered whether I should tell him my side of the story. I decided not to. It could be my little secret and who knew? If he played his cards right, and the lights were in his favor, it might happen to him again.

Thanks to my friend Chrissie Bentley, and her story Bumpy Roads Are Best, for making me think to post this memory.