Gerald Summers - The Mouth Merchants

"The 'why' of it gets me. Oral sex is lots more trouble than lying on top of a girl and banging away. And there's more of that sort of sex available, So-why? Because Momma was a female and they don't want to 'hurt' Momma, psychologically, by going into a woman's cunt? Or are they, subconsciously, trying to humiliate every female because they hated Momma?

"Anyway, that's for headshrinkers like you to figure out. And I guess there are almost as many different reasons as there are men who go for oral sex.

"Girls I can understand. They want sex but they don't want a baby, so they take their sex orally. Some in the anus. It didn't happen to me that way. I mean, I hadn't even thought about a baby. Al showed me a way to get kicks and Jerry improved on it. I got orally oriented young. Oh, I tried 'regular' sex-at college, once in a while. And with George. But I-like oral sex better. I seem to get a double dose that way-in my-cunt and in my throat.

"Sexually George and I hit it off fine. Oh, when we first got married we tried 'regular' sex because we thought we wanted a baby. Then the doctors told me I couldn't have one. Three of 'em. I'll believe three doctors. One can be wrong, but it's not likely three are wrong in the same direction.

"So George and I gave, up on the idea of a baby, except that maybe, when we had more money, we might adopt one. Oh, we weren't dirt poor. George graduated top of his class and had his pick of accounting jobs, and they pay pretty well. But of course, our income didn't begin to match those of our clients, with whom we had to go out socially. Like, it was sometimes a bind to take four people to a really top restaurant. We might eat beans for a week afterward.

"So I urged George to set up on his own. Through some frat brothers, if he pressured a. little, he could get some nice fat accounts. Nothing tremendous but good solid accounts. We still have most of 'em. And George was making money, goad money. And I was spending it.

"When you've been on short rations most of your life-as I said, we weren't poor at home, just skimpy with money-a little taste of luxury is a heady drink. I could dress well. But the wives of some of these guys wore clothes that made me look like bargain basement, or 'did your mother really make that dress?' It was humiliating.

"So I nagged. Well, not quite that, maybe, but I certainly hinted pretty strongly that we could use more money, and there were big accounts out there for the grabbing. Really big. The multimillion-dollar accounts, on which the fees are really lush.

"George came home one evening, all excited. He 'almost' had the P- P- account, with possibly Old Man J-'s personal account.

"George sprawled in our Bares-Lounger and stared down at the carpet, not willing to look at me. 'There's just one snag, baby. He wants to meet you.'

"I got really huffy at that. 'Well, I'm no frump. With one good dress I might even be able to get by.'

"George waved that away, still looking at the carpet. 'That isn't it, baby. We could even run to a Schiaparelli as a gamble on this. It's big… The trouble is-Old Man J-. He's got this club.'

"That sounded interesting, so I asked, 'Private?'

"George nodded. 'Very. In fact, it's a very special kind of club. For oral sex. He's hooked on it and he likes young women. Not just bought stuff. Hell, he could buy half the cunt in the county and not miss the money. He likes what he calls "top drawer" Very private vintage.'

"I stared at George. 'George P-, are you trying to tell me that if I let this old goat go down on me-and me on him, then we could get that account? And just because I was a little free and easy in college, you think… How much would it be worth to us"

"George named a figure that took my breath away and then added, 'There are other men there with really big accounts.' He tried to laugh. 'With three or four of those, I'd have to hire an accountant, just to figure my income tax.' He started to heave himself out of the chair. 'Forget it, kid. Forget it. I must have been nuts even to think-but you're always talking about dresses and cars and stuff…

"He was half out of the chair before I could speak, for thinking about that Jaguar and the Schiaparelli and… 'George, would you- mind? If I did it, I mean?'

"His eyes opened wide as he stared at me. 'You mean-you'd do it?' He drew a deep breath, shuddering. 'No, kid. I wouldn't mind.' He even grinned. 'Don't forget. I'd belong to the club, too, getting in my licks.'

"So we joined the club, after a flurry of buying. It's not just a Schiaparelli you buy, it's the accessories, even to perfume especially blended to your body chemistry-or so they tell you. And I went down to take another look at that Jaguar. I know a Bentley-Rolls is supposed to be swankier but there's something about that Jaguar that got me.

"It got me into this mess I'm in now.

"The first 'meeting' of the club we went to wasn't aboard that undersized ocean liner that was raided. That belongs to the really big Mister Big. This was just a yacht. Oh, it was luxurious enough.

"The salon was beautifully decorated, and there were six or seven staterooms, beside the master stateroom, which belonged to Old Man J-. Hearing him referred to that way, I expected an old man. Instead, he was tall and, except for a broken nose, good-looking. And only about forty, maybe forty-five. With streaks of gray at his temples.

"I guess I had expected something crude, like those college fraternity brawls. Grab a girl and whisk her off to a bed. Not at the club.

"It was like a movie about Monte Carlo. Very smooth and swank. Earl J- greeted each of us as we came aboard, dressed in a white dinner jacket. We went into this salon and had cocktails, while I eyed the other females. There were six couples and all the women were just a shade older than me and very smooth.

"The talk was light, maybe a little feverish, but that could have been just my reaction. Then we went in to dinner. I don't really remember what it was because I was beginning to get nervous. Earl J- kept shifting his eyes to me and touching his wineglass, as if that were a private signal. It wasn't, as I found out. Just a mannerism. Afterward we danced on the afterdeck, to a three-piece combo.

"Earl J- kept coming back to dance with me, deserting a very smooth, very sophisticated number whom he seemed to be shoving off on George. Earl danced very smoothly but very close, his fingers against my bare back playing a little soundless tune. It could have been any really swank party, up to the time Earl said, very softly, 'May I show you other parts of the boat? My own stateroom is most interesting. I have some quite unique pieces there.' And almost without waiting for an answer, danced me to a companionway, helping me down.

"I had a moment of real panic, then. It was all just a little too smooth, I guess. I gave one panic-stricken look at George, but he was concentrating on the sophisticated number, maybe deliberately, so he wouldn't see me go off with Earl.

"His stateroom was unique, with a single great circular bed and the walls and ceiling all mirrors. Earl kissed my shoulder as we went in, the first real indication that this wasn't just a pleasant meeting aboard a boat. I know I shivered.

"Earl asked if the room wasn't warm enough. Actually it was a little stuffy with heat, and I said so. He grinned then and said, 'Perhaps you'd like to slip off that lovely gown and get into something lighter.' He opened a door in the mirrored wall, revealing a whole rainbow of negligees, enough to take my breath away. Only I guessed it was pretty much stage dressing.

"Earl was already working at the single shoulder strap-and from there on the action might have been back at Jerry's or in the frat house.

"I helped him with the strap and let my gown, my lovely first Schiaparelli, drop, exposing my tits. Earl bent down and kissed first one and then the other, tonguing my nipples, until I wasn't nervous anymore. Just anxious to get-things going. Kissing my tits had started me getting hot.