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[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]Once my family was gone, I began my breathing and stretching ritual as well as calming my mind; I had learned that if I let my eagerness to do this invade my thoughts and that would make me tense up so it wasn't a thing of being able to relax my body - I had to relax my mind... but still be focused on being able to do it and, to be honest, I thought that those two things contradicted themselves and so much that I was going to fail again - but I was still determined.

I got on the bed and folded myself up, breathing and relaxing, my hands literally palming my own ass as my knob passed through my lips; I took a deep breath, relaxed even more, made my mind be still and "shoved" my dick into my mouth... until I felt more of my dick in my mouth than ever before; I now had enough dick in my mouth to blow myself for real. I felt myself tensing up over this exciting moment; willed myself to relax and be calm. Sweat was raining off of me, stinging my eyes but I had to ignore it to stay calm and relaxed as I used my hands on my ass to start fucking my own mouth.

And it worked. Damn it, it fucking worked. I was in a zone and unlike any zone I'd ever been in. It was exhilarating feeling my dick moving in and out of my mouth, to feel my tongue working myself over; it was really kinda stressful to be so excited about finally managing to do this while keeping both mind and body totally chilled out and only thinking about fucking my own mouth. I got lost in the feelings of something so very strange yet so very familiar. I was so zoned out, so focused that when I came, I was totally surprised - I didn't feel it coming like I normally would.

One moment, the world only consisted of my dick moving in and out of my mouth and, the next moment, I was cumming and so hard that I almost choked on my own sperm. It was crazy to feel how strongly my dick was pumping in my mouth; again, it was so very strange yet so very familiar at the same time. I managed to held myself as deep in my mouth as I could, my body shuddering and all that while sucking down my own sperm until my dick started to soften and my body finally said, "You're done - stop or you're gonna regret it!"

I unfolded myself to lie limply on the bed; my pillow arrangement was soaked with sweat as were the sheets beneath me. My whole body ached but, at the same time, felt wonderful and I realized that I was licking my lips and my tongue running around inside my mouth and tasting my own sperm. It was glorious, a hallmark moment in my life to have done what, at first, was something I thought wasn't as possible as it turned out to be.

I'd given myself a blow job! But instead of being over the moon about this accomplishment, the asshole that lives in my head said, and in a rather snarky voice, "Good - now... do it again."

Say what? But I did it! And even as this thought crossed my mind, I knew that it could have been a one of a kind fluke and the only way that I could really prove that I could do it was to do it again. And again. And again.
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[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]I don't think I'd ever been so focused on anything even when something in my head kept telling me to be happy with what I could do and don't push it. There was a risk I could seriously hurt myself; many years later, I wound up having to have neck surgery to repair some herniated discs in my neck and I thought that my attempts to blow myself led to having to have the surgery done. Maybe. Inconclusive.

So I kept at it, making tiny bits of progress, succeeding in filling my own mouth with my own cum but I [B]knew[/B] I could do it better, get more of myself in to give myself a "real" blow job; I felt there was something I was missing, something I wasn't doing correctly and as I went on about things as usual, I devoted a lot of brain power to figuring it out. It didn't help things to have gotten with a guy with a whopping ten inches and I think I was just coincidence that he showed me that he could suck his own dick... and way easier than I could - but that made sense since he easily had a couple of inches on me and was skinnier and more flexible. My brain "did the math" and all that and wanted to shrug the whole thing off... but that thing that was also in my head telling me that I could do it convinced me to keep trying.

And I still didn't understand why I needed to do this - I just knew I had to. As I was pondering this, it was making me tense and I said aloud to myself, "Just relax..." - and a lightbulb lit up in my head; that was the thing I was missing - I wasn't relaxing enough and not letting gravity do more of the work! So when the wife took the kids out to visit their grandmother the next day, it was time to put the theory to the test and I had the thought that if I couldn't get it done this time, I was going to finally give up and just be happy with what I could do.
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[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]Over the next week, I snuck in as many chances to do this as I could and I was going about it in a sneaky way because I didn't want my wife to catch me at it and now I'm trying to explain to her what I was doing and why; it was, at the least, going to be embarrassing. I began some serious stretching exercises as well as figuring out how to breathe while folding myself into a pretzel; I also had to learn how to relax things and stay relaxed and the more I did this, the closer I got to my goal.

I'd gotten to the point where I could lick and kiss the head of my dick while jerking myself off which usually resulted in me cumming but, sometimes, getting more of it on my face than I did in my mouth. Oh... it was frustrating! After each attempt, damn - my whole body ached from the stresses I was putting on it and I wound up taking a break from it because I had managed to lightly pull a muscle in my back which should have told me to stop trying to do this...

It just made me more determined to do it. The weird thing about it was I didn't know why I felt such a great need to do this. I'd found out years ago what my sperm tasted like and I even knew what it tasted like when it oozed out of a girl's pussy - really interesting taste. Obviously, I knew what it was like to suck dick and to be sucked and I began to think that being able to suck your own dick was a "thing" because I'd heard a lot of guys wishing they could do it, which had me wondering if the guys who had much longer cocks were doing it (and lying about not ever thinking about doing it).

I got to the point where I could get my knob into my mouth and close my mouth around it... and it was a very weird sensation to be able to lick and suck on the head of my dick, using the skills I had for sucking dick while experiencing what it felt like when someone was working my dick over. The first time I came like this was amazing and so damned weird; I knew what it was like to have cum shot into my mouth, knew what it was like to shoot cum into someone's mouth - really fucking different to do both things to yourself.

But that wasn't good enough; for some reason, I felt it really wasn't giving myself a blow job since I couldn't get more than the head of my dick in my mouth. Some guys would have been happy, giddy, and satisfied with just being able to get this far - but I wasn't. The one good thing was that after each session, my body wasn't protesting as much as it had been and more so once I figured out the right positioning to make this happen.
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[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]I've been fortunate - even lucky - to have experienced a lot of sex and I've felt that my bisexuality played a big role in the many times I've gotten laid, from doing so with men, women, both at the same time; a couple of orgies, being a swinger (and in an open marriage) and sometimes just being in the right place at the right time.

But one of the big moments in my life was the day I gave myself a blow job. I don't quite remember what put the idea to try it in my head but if I were to pick something, it may have happened a couple of hours after I'd spent some time with another guy and we were sucking each other off like it was illegal. What I do remember was watching him sucking me, taking all of me and while watching someone blow you is always visually stimulating, the way he was doing it was truly a work of art.

Of course, I was very aware of what I was doing to him and it was fun knowing that we were kinda having a contest to see who could "out suck" the other and get the sperm flowing first. After two rounds of furious cock sucking, well, the contest was even; I "lost" the first round, he "lost" the second and as I made my way home, I was basking in the warm feelings and I'm almost sure this was the moment when I wondered what it would be like to suck my own dick... and if it was even possible.

How hard could it be? I knew two things: One was I was flexible enough and the other was my dick was long enough. Once back at home, I conducted a test: Shucked my pants and underwear and with my dick in my hand, just bent over as far as I could. Okay - the angle is all wrong and the best I could do was get a real close-up look at my balls. Hmm - this calls for more experimentation... but I'd need to be hard and thanks to the guy I'd just left, that wasn't gonna happen for maybe another hour. Still, it didn't stop me from getting on the bed and trying to fold myself up; my back, neck, and stomach muscles were starting to pitch a bitch but, hmm, when I'm hard, I think I can do this!


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[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]That first bad experience exposed not only my navetivity but how stupidly easy I was and I'm not joking when I say that all a guy had to do was show me his dick and I'd want it in my mouth, ass, or both. I'd ask for it... would sometimes beg for it. I realized that I didn't know how to say "no" even when my gut was screaming at me to say no. Or, a guy I was used to doing it with would ask if we could do it, I didn't really feel like doing it, but I'd do it with him anyway and, sometimes, feel like shit afterward.

That day? I realized - all late and wrong - that my gut had been telling me not to go and do it with him and I ignored it... and even regretted how it all went down and turned out. I hated the way I just did nothing and let him use me the way he did and that I didn't do anything until he filled me up with his spunk and said I was a good girl and a faggot. Why? I still don't know but it no longer fucks with me, not like it did for a couple of days after the bad experience. Well, I do know... I can't put it into words. He did to me what I wanted him to do - I just didn't like how he did it and I had, in fact, stupidly and ignorantly, hoped that he was going to keep his word and do it to me really good. And he didn't. Well, let me put it in the way I came to understand it: He did it to me the way he wanted to - I just didn't like how he wanted to do it.

It was the moment that also taught me to learn from my experiences, both the good ones and the bad ones; it taught me in a very hard way not to believe everything someone said when they wanted to do it to me - and that included some of the guys I'd regularly been doing it with. I was sad to realize that I was learning not to trust but I learned that day that you cannot trust everyone, that when your gut is telling you not to do it, well, just don't fucking doing it unless you wanna feel like shit after the fact.

Took me a while to learn that particular lesson and one made worse by me understanding that up to the moment when I wasn't having fun, I was having fun doing it or it was all good until I felt it wasn't. That it was easy to think about how bad something was after the fact... but it wasn't really all that bad while it was happening. Or learning to make it stop when, while it was happening, because I wasn't liking what was being done or said and, yeah, if he wasn't going to stop, make him stop and more so when I had the skills to make him stop.

And, yeah, sometimes, just let him finish... then kick his ass. In my youth, I learned some very hard lessons about having sex with guys, lessons I've never forgotten but lessons that, oddly, were good lessons to learn and, namely, when a guy gets his dick hard, there's no telling how he's gonna behave and sometimes, I'm not gonna like how he behaves once the sex gets started. Hard lessons. Important ones. Maybe even necessary ones.
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[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]Hell, no, I didn't like it! I wasn't a girl! I wasn't a faggot! But that thing in my head asked, "Are you sure you didn't like it?" And I almost threw up again because I couldn't say that I hated it as much as I knew I did. Among the things I learned that fateful day, one of them was learning that there's a part of my mind that always tells the truth... and sometimes never in a good way.

Shit, I was telling one of my friends about that moment - and, get this - after we did it to each other for the first time that day - and even he said that I was an idiot for believing him and I did the right thing to beat the kid up... but even he asked me if I liked it when he sucked me off and I fucked him.

And it felt like I did but I still hated everything that happened that day. My friend even said, "If you didn't like it, well, you did it to him and shot it in him - that had to feel good, didn't it?" And I got mad at him and I think it was because he was right - it had felt good even though it was the worst day in my life, too. I didn't understand this very confusing shit and it wouldn't be for another four or five years before I could understand it.

And even when I could understand it, I still felt dirty and used by him, still felt the heated shame of being suckered into having sex and believing everything he had said to me that day. It was the first of quite a few bad experiences for me but, truthfully, none of the other bad experiences I had came close to being like that first one. I'd find myself sometimes being fucked and hating myself for agreeing to it and, shit, like a lot of girls, just taking it and wishing and praying for him to cum and get this over with... and then being mad with myself over deciding to do it when it wasn't as much fun - or as good - as I thought it would be.

It wasn't because the other guy really did anything bad or wrong to me and I had learned a big lesson from that first time in that if a guy did something I didn't like (or agree to), make him stop and if I had to do something to make him stop, well, I was gonna make him stop... but it didn't make me feel any better knowing that I allowed and went along with something that started out good... and wound up being anything but good.

And it got worst.
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[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]I got up. My whole body was hurting and shaking; my hands felt swollen and numb, had his blood all over me and I felt so dirty, used, and disgusted with him as well as myself. I fell for his bullshit, believed him when he said he was gonna do it to me really good when it was anything but good. I'd lost my cool when he called me a good girl and a faggot, had given into a blind rage and beat him up - then fucked him and I had no fucking idea why I did that. I put my clothes back on while keeping an eye on him, not out of any concern for his well-being - he sure as shit didn't have any concern for mine - but I was waiting for the fight to continue.

He finally managed to sit up... and the motherfucker smiled at me before saying, "So... you're not really a good girl after all, huh?" Oh, I started to kick him in the face but the words still stung just the same. I said the first thing that came to my mind: "Fuck you!"

And he said, "You did that already!"

And I kicked him and ran out of the place and all the fucked up shit and feelings landed on me in a very bad way. I got home and went straight to the bathroom to wash up; thankfully, neither of my parents said anything to make me stop and talk to them - I wasn't sure how I was going to explain why I looked like I'd just been in a fight. As I washed up, the tears I'd been trying to hold back started flowing and I threw up in the sink, which got my mother's - the nurse - attention but she just said something about running around when it was so hot outside.

I felt... sick. Dirty and no matter how much soap and water I used. My asshole was so sore; my mouth and throat was sore from having him shoving his dick into my mouth so hard. I hated him... and I hated myself even more. Not because I finally beat the shit out of him... but because I let him trick me into doing it with him. I was really mad that when I was punching him, my dick got hard again; I got even madder because I fucked him and got madder still because I couldn't remember when I moved to stick it in him. I almost threw up again to remember looking down, seeing my dick in his ass - and his dick shooting the stuff all over the both of us.

Worst. Day. Ever. Then it got worse because after I finished in the bathroom and changed my clothes, my father noticed that my hands were swollen and now I'm lying to him - kinda - about having gotten into a fight and lying even more about why I was fighting. Yeah, like I was gonna tell him I got suckered into doing it with another boy and he treated me very badly and had made me feel like shit. He lectured me about fighting - and not for the first time - while telling me that it was good that I defended myself.

And I felt sick again because I knew that when I should have defended myself, I hadn't. I just showed him my belly - and as I'd heard adults say but until that moment, I didn't understand what that meant... but I did now. I let him fuck me in the mouth then laid there and let him manhandle and fuck me in the ass, calling me names and all that. And then, to add insult to injury, something in my head asked me, "Did you like it?"
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[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]He roughly pulled out of me and then roughly turned me over; he started sucking my dick just as roughly, his teeth scraping the shit out of my dick and I felt ashamed that my body was actually responding to it. For some reason, he kept roughly moving me around on the floor, biting my dick (but, I figured out later, not that hard to do damage) and just manhandling me until, again and to my shame, I shot my stuff in his mouth.

When he finally stopped, he looked at me and said, "You were a good little girl, faggot!"

That's when I snapped and leaped on him and starting punching him in the face (and anywhere else I could hit him). I was wailing away on him, taking all of the bad feelings he had made me feel out on him and, damn - my dick was hard again... and so was his! My mind was a big red blur as I sat on him and turned his face into a bloody mess; my hands were hurting pretty bad and at some point, I stopped sitting on him to hold him down and kneed him in the crotch as hard as I could, making him throw up and all that.

The next thing I knew, I had my dick in his ass - when did I do that and, even better, why did I do that? I didn't know... and I guess I didn't care. I remember looking at him as I shoved my bigger dick into his ass, seeing the look of fear and pain on his face, his eyes starting to close and blacken, blood pouring out of his nose and, somewhere inside me, shit - I felt horrible; filty, totally and completely disgusted as I fucked him as hard and as brutally as I could and, occasionally, punching him in the face again.

I was insane; something inside of me was yelling at me to stop, to find my clothes and run away and I knew that was what I had to do... but I didn't. I don't even know how long I fucked him until I shot my stuff... but I knew it when he shot his stuff because I was looking down at my dick in his ass and saw it shooting out of his dick. He's under me, crying, begging me to stop, telling me how sorry he was - and really started crying when I finally shot my stuff into his butt.

I felt disgusted even more because it felt good doing that in him. I pulled out, leaned forward a bit... and punched him in the jaw as hard as I could. I saw his eyes roll up in his head and his body went totally limp and I remember starting to cry and a tiny thought that he might be dead. Well, no - he was still breathing but still.
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