Mike Phillips - The many tongues of love

Talk about Sophie Portnoy! Man, I have a mother you wouldn't believe. Every chick I met, every chick I look at, every chick I dream about is a threat to dear ol' Mom. Don't get me wrong: I love her. But I wish to hell she hadn't hung on so long. I'm rid of her now – I'm moving out on my own next week – but it's been one hell of a trip, believe me.

"So who's this girl you're bringing home?" she asked way back before my first date in high school. Already then she was afraid I'd get a chick pregnant and I'd shame her and her ancestors forever. She should only know – she should only know! – that I don't even like fucking girls! Oral sex is my bag and Mother is responsible for that too.

Let me go back to the beginning. One day, when I was about twelve and just starting to realize my cock was growing and there was such a thing called sex I came home from school early with a sore throat. Dad ran a string of furniture showrooms and warehouses, and you never knew when he was going to be home. Already then he was losing his looks – he worked himself to the bone – and Mother never really had any. She's always been overweight, not what you'd call pretty, but not homely either, with her hair propped up with the help of ten cans of spray. I had never even pictured the two of them kissing, much less making love. I entered the house quietly and heard noises coming from the living room. I crept up behind the big planter and looked down into the sunken – Beverly Hills, mind you, posh sunken living room – area and immediately froze.

Mother was on the top-riding him, in a stooping position. Dad's long slender cock stood straight up from his balls and she bounced on it and I was amazed to see it disappear up her, and then slide out again and again. The rolls of fat on her stomach jiggled and her massive breasts heaved with each movement. Dad wasn't saying a word, just moaning a sick sound. Mom was shouting all kinds of shit, like. "FUCK THE JUICE OUT OF ME!" and "HAROLD, HAROLD, YOU HAVE SUCH A BIG PRICK!" (which he didn't, actually), and I was so sick I wanted to puke.

I watched for about five minutes until I could take no more. It was the most obscene sight, the most horrifying thing I had ever seen in my entire lifetime. I ran out into the yard and became sick and vomited right next to Dad's Cadillac. All sorts of things raced through my mind – was that how I was conceived? Was that what intercourse was all about? It was ugly and awful – Dad's helpless cock being used by her big hairy cunt – and I wanted to erase it from my mind, to blot it out.

Just a week before, Mother had sent me to my room without supper for saying "fuck" for the first time. And look what they were doing on that floor? I should have sent them to the gas chamber for that. Jesus, something like that can fuck up a little kid's head!

And it did, it did. Till this very day, although it's not a great problem now. I'm twenty-two and I've never fucked a chick in my life. I've never even tried; I have no desire ever to do so. The idea repulses me, it sickens me, and I lose an erection if the thought crosses my mind or if a girl mentions it. Many times I've fucked up the evening because I wouldn't fuck. It's very simple… and yet so complicated, somehow.

You see, after that day when I saw my parents going at it on the living room floor, I had a perverse desire to watch it again – maybe I wanted to hate them and this was giving me a reason, I don't know – and I did. I snuck around and pretended to be asleep nights, peeked in their window, told lies, hid, crept, anything to watch them fuck. And that's all they did, no foreplay – oh, Dad stuck his fingers up her twat a few times and sucked her big nipples, but nothing more than that – just straight fucking, in various positions. More often than not, Dad was on the bottom and I hated my mother for that because I felt she was ruling him, when he should have been the strong one on top!

Anyhow, I watched each time – and began to realize that, after I had witnessed the scene, I would be sexually excited! I would go to my room or to the bathroom, lock the door, and masturbate. No, none of the Portnoy stuff with the liver or my sister's underpants. I had three favorite pictures – bought them from a kid at school for ten bucks – and I looked at them each time I beat off. One was of a beautiful blond girl sucking on a big Negro dick! All it showed was this guy's big fat cock and his hands on his hips, and a beautiful movie star type sucking on it. I don't know why, but it really turned me on.

The second picture was one of a man and woman, both very good-looking, in a sixty-nine position. And the third was of two couples – a girl was sucking on a guy's cock, while the other girl was sucking his asshole – and beneath the girl working on the asshole was the other guy, his face stuffed into her pussy. They were exciting – oral, different sex than the stuff I always saw with my parents – and for me those pictures, those acts, were normal and beautiful. Fucking was dirty, ugly. Oral sex was clean and right. And I still feel that way.

I had a rough time for a few years. All the guys I knew inevitably told me two things: how great it was to fuck a girl and what a big cock I had. The first I wasn't so sure about, the second I was positive. I had a huge cock then, and I have one now. I don't know why, I guess it just grew that way – God knows, Dad's isn't that big. I love my cock and I'm proud of it and I love having it sucked. But putting it in a cunt, hell no.

It finally got to a point in high school where I had to pretend I had a girl friend – I did, but she was an uptight Catholic virgin, and wow, you should have heard my mother about that one! I was only fifteen and she was worried I was balling this Catholic chick and we were going to make a baby and have to raise it Catholic! I did pretend I was fucking her, especially to the boys in the locker room at school. They were very proud of me, and always envious of my dick.

Finally, one day, the pleasure of the pictures began to wear off and I was wanting the real thing. Where do I find a girl who'll suck me off, but not make me fuck her? Hollywood? Maybe the Ranch Market? There were always some sleazy types around there. The beach? I didn't know what the hell to do. And then, like a great matzo from the sky, she descended upon me…

Her name was Madeline, and she was a cousin to a cousin to a cousin – you know that crap – of the woman next door, a woman who was a lot like Mother. So I was out by the pool one sunny afternoon and I saw this nice looking girl looking at me through the palm leaves. She smiled, and I smiled back and moved my knees up – afraid to show her the fact that I had an erection. I was lying there on the chaise lounge thinking of getting sucked off under water – I had some wild fantasies!

"Hi, you must be Carey!" she called.

"Yeah, who are you?" I asked…

"Madeline."

I won't bore you with the conversation that took place immediately after that, and how I got her to come over and have some lemonade with me and how we started talking about sex and – this sounds like The Graduate, doesn't it? Anyhow, we decided to swim because I was so sexually excited I knew I needed the water to cool me before I ripped open my trunks. And I think she was getting all warm between the legs already then too.

In the water, I asked her where she worked, since she said she worked in an office – she was just out of high school. Her reply, well, I wasn't ready for it. "I work at J amp;M Blowers!" she called from the other end of the pool. Then she laughed.

I laughed too and my cock charged up. J amp;M Blowers! I wondered if she were making it up. I didn't care, she had said it and the ice was broken. That damn pool was steaming now and I swam to her and stood there, in the shallow end, water to our waists, next to her.