The girl who got me to suck cock;

Nobody would have suspected Patricia of being that kind of girl.

She didn't dress provocatively, or wear makeup at work. Patricia was a
bit thin, wore glasses, and had shoulder length brown hair. She had a
rather bony pointed nose, a cute pointed chin, and a small mouth.

She was a secretary at City Hall, where I was working at that time. It
was a medium-sized town, but with few employees. We all knew each other,
at least those of us who worked downtown.

I was sitting in the cafeteria, about to tuck into my lunch, when
Patricia caught my eye; she smiled at me, and came over to my table.

�Hey, Darrell. Can I join you?�

As usual, Patricia was plainly dressed. A dark skirt came to her
ankles, and in her flat shoes she was only about five foot 6. Her white
longsleeved blouse left most everything to the imagination; slim hips
though, I could see that. She was a pleasant lady, and I was a lonely man.

�Of course.� I replied.

�Is it true, that you don't drink or smoke?� She asked me after a brief
taste of her food.

�Well, yes.� I replied, slightly embarrassed.

�Then, what do you do?� She asked me, her big brown eyes staring at me
through her glasses.

�Well, just what everyone else does. Except drink and smoke.�

�But I mean, do you go out?�

�Not so much, I guess. There isn't much to do in a bar when you don't
drink, and they usually all stink of smoke.�

�So how do you meet women?�

�Well, I guess I don�t�

�You must have a lot bottled up inside you by now.�

She seemed to like me, and my normally lonely lunch hour seemed to slide
by in a flash. Drawing every reserve of my courage, I asked her to
dinner with me. She accepted.

My feet felt like they were carrying no weight for the rest of the day.
Patricia; she could be the girl for me, I was thinking. She was a
little older than me, perhaps 30 to my 25. But she was a simple kind of
girl, I thought. Not unattractive, but not someone that would be
turning every male head. I could imagine that I might be able to win a
girl like Patricia.

God, was I naive.

It was a different Patricia that I picked up for dinner. Not a sex bomb
or anything, don't get me wrong. But she was wearing some makeup, and a
dress that showed that she had at least some cleavage. High heels made
her seem taller and more attractive, and she wore some simple jewelry
that somehow gave her a touch of class that she didn't bother to show in
the office. I was smitten.

We laughed and talked, Patricia drank a glass or two of the house wine.

�It's awfully sticky tonight, don't you think?� She asked me. �I wish
there was someplace we could go take a swim.�

�My family has a cabin down by Eagle Lake.� I suggested.

She took my hand at some point during the drive; the tension and
excitement I felt was euphoric.

�I don't have the keys with me.� I told her.

�It doesn't matter,� she said, �we can swim naked.�

I couldn't see much of her body as we undressed in the starlight; I
didn't mind, I was confident that I would see all eventually. We
splashed about in the Lake for a short time. Some young men walked by
and shouted a greeting; I shouted one in return.

Patricia was apprehensive as we dressed.

�Those young men that walked past, what if they come back?�

I didn't understand at first what she was afraid of; �Don't worry,
they're friends of mine.� I reassured her. Something about that little
incident drew us closer together; a moment of female insecurity, male
reassurance.

I took her home at about 11:00; she invited me in.

We sat on her couch and had coffee, that ritual intake of caffeine. We
kissed.

I don't think I had been in love before, not as an adult. She seemed to
have everything I wanted in a woman; a spirit of adventure, but not too
much. A fine figure, a sharp wit. My dick was on fire as she tickled
it with her fingertips, as we kissed, as we made love before sex.

Her breasts were small, but well formed; the silky smooth bulge of them
driving me wild as I caressed them.

I'd never had a blow job before, and I reached behind me to switch on
the light.

Patricia laughed; �You want to see this, do you?�

�Definitely.� I answered her.

It was my first blow job, but I've had others since. Patricia was good;
she seemed to be enjoying herself as much as I was, and she watched me
watching her as she made love to my penis with her cute mouth, caressing
my balls and squeezing the base of my shaft as she sucked and licked me.

I find it curious, but somehow I couldn't come. She wanted me to, she
wanted me to come in her mouth. But I couldn't the first time. I don't
know why.

Her long thin legs around my hips as I screwed her, her lips on mine,
her fingers across my back. I made her come once, and as she approached
her second climax it was too much for me. We seemed to melt together in
a great slag heap of satisfied sexuality.

�I'm not your girlfriend.� She said to me over breakfast.

�Okay.� I answered her, �What are you then?�

�I'm a woman. A secretary; a human being.�

�I mean what are you to me? How would you like to define our relationship?�

�Relationship? You're my friend, Darryl. And lover. But I'm not your
girlfriend.�

I didn't quite understand at first. But I was willing to let it slide,
whatever Patricia wanted. I was willing to let things develop naturally.

But what she was actually trying to tell me, was that she had other lovers.

�Can I see you tonight?� I asked her as we approached town Hall.

�Not tonight, Darryl. How about Monday?�

It was only Thursday.

�All right.� I answered her.

It was a long and lonely weekend. At some point, I had to call; but she
wasn't at home.

On Monday, we had dinner at my place, followed by a wonderful long
period of sex. She lovingly sucked my cock until I came in her mouth,
and then I screwed her again. As orgasm after orgasm washed over
Patricia, I became confident that she was really mine after all.

�So what did you do over the weekend?� I asked her after we had
finished. Family commitments or something, I guessed.

�I was in Las Vegas.�

�Las Vegas? What were you doing in Las Vegas?� I asked, confused.

�My friend Paul took me. He has his own plane, and he loves to fly away
somewhere for the weekend. Have you ever been to Las Vegas, Darryl?�

�No.� I answered, trying to cover up my state of shock. Las Vegas?
Private plane? Paul?

�It's good fun, but you have to be careful not to get too involved with
the gambling. They try to keep you in the casino with free food, shows��

She prattled on about Las Vegas, telling the everything except what I
wanted to know; did she sleep with him, did she make love with him? Did
she like him, did she like him better than me?

It went on like that for a month or two. I would get together with
Patricia once or twice a week, and we'd have a wonderful and intimate
time; it wasn't only sexual intercourse, I always thought; there was a
deeper connection, I was convinced of it.

But Patricia made no secret of the fact that she was also seeing two or
three other men. The impression I got was that they were all older than
us, and mostly wealthy. At least one was married.

�Ted got a new car,� she would tell me, �it's gorgeous. He drove me
down to Buffalo on Wednesday after work.�

Buffalo was a four-hour drive; Thursday was a holiday, and I hadn't seen
Patricia that day.

Or; �I went with Paul up to a small Lake where he has a fishing cabin.
It looked really pretty, but there were mosquitoes everywhere. We had
to stay inside most of the time.�

But I also had the impression that I was her preferred lover. She told
me once that I was the only one who could screw her after �a whole blow
job�.

Patricia just loved giving head. She never seemed to tire of it, and I
adored watching her go down on me.

I tried to avoid getting to attached to her. I forced myself to imagine
her with other men; but it just made me more crazy for her. I knew she
was unhealthy for me; but she was so lovely and honest about it all.

�Do you get jealous?� She asked me one day.

�Of course.� I answered her.

�You're very good about it.� Patricia observed. �It drives Ted crazy
that I have other boyfriends.�

�It drives me crazy too, sometimes.�

�Do you ever imagine me with them?� She asked.

�Sometimes.� I admitted.

�What do you imagine?� She asked.

�I -sometimes I think about you going down on them like you go down on me.�

�Well, I do. But I like you better, you have such a gorgeous thing.�
She said with a laugh.

There was silence for a moment.

�They taste different, too.� Patricia added.

�Really?� I hadn't thought about it.

�Yes. Paul tastes nice, but Ted is a little bitter. And it's really
hard to make him come.�