The Fresh Man (Pt. 03)

If jizzing my pants took a toll on my confidence, then strangely enough getting yelled at, spanked, handcuffed, and edged to tears seemed to have boosted it. I'm sure the handjobs didn't hurt either, but I really don't think that was it. I fucked up; that was clear. But I owned my mistake, I learned something valuable from it, and perhaps most importantly, I was invited back.

And that invitation loomed large. Next Tuesday was my lesson in oral sex. Lessons? My teachers seemed to like to cover giving and receiving in the same lesson. Honestly, for me, getting a blowjob was in an entirely different universe than eating pussy. Not that they weren't both spectacular universes, but really, other than the use of the mouth, what did they have in common? I suppose that was why I was the student, the freshman virgin, and they were the teachers, the upperclass sexually actives.

I was now the undisputed leader of the herd. I did not campaign for this role; I didn't even really want it. Like geese flying in a "V," nature simply designated that I take the front. When I went to dinner, the others followed. When I looked for others to play basketball, teams were quickly formed. Avery actually struck up a preemptive conversation with me before History class. Was I walking differently? Did I give off the pheromones of the externally jerked off? Was there some underlying shift in my psyche that no one, including myself, could identify, but all recognized?

Friday morning, I received a text from Wendy: Shave your pubes.

Okay, this made things more real. This was happening. My cock was going to get sucked. Still, my pubes had been a source of pride for me. As a "late bloomer"--and God, I hated that term--I had waited for years to grow my first pubic hair. I still remember when it showed up. I even named it "Henry." For so long, I had hoped and prayed that my passage to manhood would begin and dark, curly hairs would adorn my pelvis. I thought there was something wrong with me. I was no stranger to jerking off, but looking down at my bald pelvis was embarrassing. I structured my life around ensuring that no one could tell. It wasn't hard. Being very unathletic, communal showers were rare. Staring at your pissing neighbor's crotch at a urinal was generally not done. But still, I guarded my secret with every possible base covered. Finally, my garden sprouted, and by 16 I had a tall and very proud man-bush. And now I was being told to take it away.

I knew men did this. In fact, in my pre-pube days, this was my planned excuse had I ever been caught: Yeah, I manscape, don't you? I wonder how many boys had used such a line. Probably a similar amount to the number with ambiguous girlfriends in other states.

I made my way to the local drugstore and perused the options, settling on a package which included a multi-blade disposable razor, a pair of grooming scissors, and some gel. I tried to disguise my purchase by surrounding it with candy bars, a toothbrush, and the ultimate shield--a Frisbee. Mission complete.

The execution was more tedious. I needed to wait until my roommate was gone, a real missed opportunity as this was my primary jerk-off window. But once he left, I set the plastic drugstore bag below my balls and gelled up my hair, then used the straight edge to shave off my proud possession. This proved difficult in more sensitive areas, and I tried the scissors to finish the job. Not perfect, but I hoped Wendy and Emily would be forgiving. And just in case, I packed my manscaping kit in the backpack I would bring with me to my lesson.

Sharing a shower with an entire floor of freshman guys gave some opportunity to do a comparative analysis. Mind you, getting caught staring at another showerer's crotch was a capital offense, but there was also almost no way not to see the basics. I roughly estimated that being shaved put me in the minority, though not by much. Maybe a third of my male classmates were bald down there, and it naturally begged several questions: Was this at the request of a partner? Were they just being prepared? Was it an inherited preference? Could they not manage zippers well? Ah, college, the place to probe life's big questions.

There were no abstinence texts from my teachers on Tuesday morning. Thank God; I needed some relief, as the pressure was at a constant high all week. I took care of business and worked in a quick stubble shave while my roommate was at dinner. I was too nervous to eat, and the herd would have to designate a temporary leader to get to the cafeteria.

Finally, I arrived for my class.

"Hello, Stephen," Wendy opened the door. "I'm glad you decided to continue."

Was there ever any doubt?

"Looking forward to this evening's lesson?"

"Yes, very much."

"Good, breast fondling is one of our favorite classes," said Emily.

What?! No!

"Just kidding," Emily laughed. "You're cute when panicking, though. So, have a seat in the special chair."

The chair that Wendy gave me my first handjob in. I sat, waiting eagerly.

"So," began Wendy, "what's been on your mind?"

They knew damn well what was on my mind.

"Is it my tongue slowly touching the base of your hard shaft and then moving up to the tip of your cock?" Emily leaned in and said into my right ear, her hand on my leg.

"Or is it more me taking you fully in my mouth, sucking and moving my head up and down on you?" goaded Wendy.

I shivered. What was their plan? To make me cum without touching me?

"A bit of both, maybe?" continued Emily seductively, rubbing my thigh. "Because they're both going to happen. Tonight."

"Ohhh," I groaned, shivering and squirming.

"Looks like we got your wheels spinning," noted Wendy.

"Yeah, for sure. You did."

"That brain of yours working overtime?" asked Emily.

"Just very active."

"We can tell. Oral sex week is, in more ways than one, a real head fuck," Wendy laughed at her joke.

"Tell me, what do you think about when you hear the words 'oral sex'?" Emily probed.

"Getting my cock sucked, obviously. Eating pussy." I was tense, stiff as a board, just trying to get the words out.

"Does getting your cock sucked sound like fun?" asked Wendy.

"Yes. Definitely. Absolutely."

"Why?" asked Emily.

Why? It is what it is. Basic--wait, were they in cahoots with my actual professors? "It's a tautology. It's true no matter what. A good just because it is."

They laughed. "I'm sure Dr. Anderson would be very proud. But no, I think there's more," Wendy chided. "Let me ask you this: what makes it so good?"

"Mouth. Wet mouth on hard cock?"

"Okay, let me pose this to you," began Wendy. "When you cum in my mouth, do you want me to spit or swallow?"

"Swallow. Please."

"Why?" asked Emily. "It would feel the same."

Damn logic.

"Right, either's fine. Really, I don't care." Anything; I'm desperate and drowning.

"Oh, but you do care. You said swallow right away. Why do you want me to swallow your semen, Stephen?"

"I... uh, it's just hot, I guess."

"What makes it 'hot'?" Emily probed.

"It just is. It's like... she'd be saying she wants me. All of me. Inside of her."

"Exactly," Wendy said. They both moved to the sofa. "Understand now?"

"Uh, no," my head was spinning and my cock was throbbing inside my jeans.

"Remember how I told you that oral sex is about the head?" asked Wendy.

"Yes, obviously."

"Not so obvious," corrected Emily. "It's about what goes on in the recipient's head, too. It's not just tongues and genitals."

"You nearly popped just from my voice," said Emily. She was right. As usual.

"Oral sex is ninety percent in the brain. At least for men," Wendy was in full instructor mode. "The simple thought of a woman taking your cock into her mouth is the ultimate male ego trip. Yes, it will physically feel good."

"Very good," Emily interjected.

"But nothing will compare to the realization that a woman is taking your most private and sacred body part and willfully pleasuring it with her mouth."

"And that leads us to my favorite topic: pussy licking," Emily now took the reins. "Stephen, do you want to lick my pussy?"

"Yes, absolutely." I prayed that my faux pas last week, where I lost control and licked for half a second, wouldn't come up.

"Why?"

Shit, again, another tautology? Certainly eating pussy wasn't about my ego.

"Because it's pussy. It's like 90% of what I think about all day."

"Ah, the head again," said Wendy. "It's the thought of eating pussy that drives you wild."

"I think the actual act would, too," I tried.

"Maybe. You'll find out shortly," said Emily. "But things don't happen in a vacuum. Competing desires come into play."

"Like the desire that's causing that bulge in your jeans," noted Wendy.

"Tell me, how are you going to focus on eating my pussy when you so desperately want your own needs met?"

"I don't know. I'll try. Maybe if mine were met first, I could concentrate more?" Clever, a bit selfish, but I thought I had a point.

"Maybe. But that involves a lot of trust. What if we're on a date--"

"Or your final exam," reminded Wendy.

"--and you're at that critical moment? You want your dick sucked. Very badly. But why should she suck it? What if you cum and run?"

"I wouldn't do that."

"Says every guy who ever did it," added Emily. "So, what do you do?"

"I show her my appreciation. Build trust. Go down on her."

"Exactly. Lesson one, two weeks ago: communication. You communicate to her that you're in it not just for your own pleasure, but for hers," said Wendy.

"And you do that by giving her your undivided attention," Emily stared at me. "What was the key word in that sentence, Stephen?"

"Attention?"

"No, undivided. You know why most men are lousy at eating pussy?"

"They divide their attention? Think of their cock?"

"Yes. Well, some are just lazy and don't learn the skills. But even that's usually a byproduct of wanting their cock serviced."

"You know who eats the best pussy?" inquired Wendy.

"An unselfish man?"

"Ha! No, a species that actually exists." Ouch.

"Someone who can't even feel their cock. Find me a paralyzed man, and he will have a patient, well-developed skill set," said Wendy. "So... if you want to be a good pussy eater, you could break your back, cut your cock off, or have a focused mind. Your choice."

"I think I'll focus."

"I think you'll try. That bulge looks painful."

"It is."

"So how are you going to eat my pussy with it?" asked Wendy.

"I'm going to try to focus."

"On what?"

"On your pussy."

"Okay, good, but what else?"

"On pleasing you."

"Good, keep going."

What more could there be?

"How about that a beautiful woman is sharing her most private and sacred part of herself with you?"

"Right! Yes. That."

"Put it in your own words. What are you going to say to yourself while you're eating my pussy?"

"That I am a very lucky man. That a beautiful woman is sharing her body with me."

"Yes! You really are a good student. Want your reward?"

"Yes."

"Choose. Whose pussy do you want to lick first?"

This was too much. I might explode. Both? I couldn't turn either down.

"Go ahead, we won't be hurt if you don't choose us. Say what you want. Honesty. Be a man and choose," said Wendy.

I tried not to think; I just went with my gut. "Wendy."

"Very well then." Wendy rose, stripped bare, and sat back down in the center of the sofa, knees together. Emily stood and stayed still next to the sofa.

"You will kneel before me, then I will spread my legs and you will begin."

I staggered with my pent-up cock and knelt. She breathed in deeply, then spread her legs.

There it was. Wendy's pussy. Neatly trimmed pubes, a little pudge to her belly, and oh, the womanly folds I had dreamed of--glistening with moisture and calling to me. And this time, not only was I allowed, I was expected. I slowly leaned in, taking in her musky scent, the smell of uncovered flesh, and my mouth made contact right in her center. Oh, that moist flesh. My cock throbbed painfully, but I remembered my lesson: focus.

I extended my tongue. She tasted like... like nothing I'd ever tasted before. Pussy, I guess. My tongue moved all over her while she stayed perfectly still. I licked and licked, expecting some sort of reaction, but got none. I knew I wasn't skilled--I couldn't be expected to be--but I thought I'd get a moan or a squirm. But no.

"Okay, time out," announced Wendy, pushing my head away from her crotch.

What? Had I done something wrong?

"Really, not bad. Pretty good," continued Wendy. "You were focused, attentive, enthusiastic. That's 80% of the game. I needed to know that you could in fact focus, and you've proven that you can. We'll work on technical skills soon. But you made a good point earlier: a clear head will serve you well." She smiled.

"Does that mean--"

"Yes, it's blowjob time." Emily helped me stand, and proceeded to strip me. My cock sprung straight up, bare skin all around it. "Very good manscaping. Now, back to your chair."

I moved swiftly to sit with my cock standing at attention.

"Remember what we told you about the mind's role in a blowjob?" asked Wendy.

"Yes, massive ego boost. Be grateful."

"Yes. Now, I would tell you to focus on gratitude, on what Emily will be communicating to you with her mouth. But let's be real: you're an 18-year-old virgin. Just enjoy your first blowjob."

Emily knelt in front of me. I was so excited I was shaking.

"Don't get lost thinking about this, freshman," said Emily, her breath on my overly sensitive cock. "But I am, in fact, going to swallow."

She ran her tongue up my shaft, and I became stiff as a board. Then, after licking my tip, she put her lips around the head of my cock and moved down. Then I felt her tongue, and she moved up. Her hands cupped my tightening balls, and I strained to look at Wendy, who smiled at me. Two more up-and-down bobs of Emily's head, and I exploded. She stopped moving but sucked harder, moving her hand to squeeze the base of my cock. Then both her hand and mouth moved up my shaft and pulled off with a pop. She opened her mouth so I could see my cum, then swallowed it in one gulp, opening again to prove its absence.

"Oh, my God. Thank you. Emily, oh, thank you."

"You're welcome." She patted my head and stood.

"Next time, we'll go over some exercises to help keep you in the game longer," said Wendy.

Emily got me a glass of water, which I gulped down.

"Now, want to learn some technical skills?" Wendy spread her legs.

"Yes! I'm in!" I rushed back to kneel in front of Wendy.

"No, not yet," said Wendy. "Given the absence of a paralytic or eunuch, you know who else eats the best pussy?"

Emily was moving toward the sofa. "Someone who has one?"

"Precisely," said Wendy. "So, Emily, show our student how it's done. Slowly. I'll narrate."

This was perhaps even hotter than doing it myself.

Emily held Wendy's legs apart, then placed a kiss on Wendy's fleshy thigh.

"She's warming me up. Starting slow. Like exercising before a workout. Now, closer."

Emily moved to an outer lip, making sure I had a good view.

"Yes, hotter. A slow, long stroke on the inside of my outer labia."

Emily repeated on the other side, then circled her full vulva with her tongue. Wendy moaned.

"Now, it's discovery time."

Emily slowly moved her tongue around Wendy's folds, in between, on her slit--gently, slowly.

"She's learning me. Remember: communication. When she does something I like, she'll pick up on it. If I do nothing, she'll note that, too. If I retreat, she'll know to stop that action. All women are different; every pussy unique. It may even change over time. A good lover--ah!" she tensed, "is attentive."

"How you doing up there, partner?" asked Emily.

"Ready for the next phase."

Emily moved to the north of Wendy's slit, where her inner folds met. Slowly, she gave a tiny lick. Wendy tensed and moaned.

"She knew it was time to involve the clit. Number one problem men have: going too hard for the clit. Number two problem: not being able to find it. Now Emily has found it, and it's ready, but... mmm, but she still... mmm, isn't rushing. Oh fuck, yes."

Emily was moving away, licking other areas, then moving back to Wendy's clit.

"See the pattern? Slowly involve my clit more and more. Eventually, you can focus exclusively on it. Want to try?"

"Yes!"

Emily moved away, and I tried to imitate her moves. She tasted even better than before--wetter, warmer, more womanly. She tensed and moaned when I brushed her clit. It was working. I was doing it!

I continued: back away, then return with more pressure. I could tell when I made a good move. I could feel my cock harden, but I stayed on task. Lick, circle, swipe. Wendy breathed more heavily.

"Okay, now all in!"

I went hard for her clit--licking, sucking against it, circling it, pressing harder. Emily squeezed my hand. Wendy's back arched, she moaned loudly, her hips moved up and down like waves, and then she settled.

"Now move away from her clit," instructed Emily. "Go in reverse, slowly, tenderly. Eventually, kiss her thigh goodbye."

I did just that.

"Damn, rookie, you learned well," said a breathless Wendy. My face was covered in her juices. It was the proudest moment of my life. "Let me rest a minute, then we'll continue."

There was more?!

Emily got both Wendy and me a glass of water. We both drank greedily.

"So, how are you feeling?" asked a rejuvenated Wendy.

"Like the king of the world."

"You should be proud. You did well. And I see your little friend woke up."

"So..." began Emily. "The big question. I hope that before you leave tonight, you'll eat my pussy."

"And I'll suck your cock," said Wendy.

"But the question is," continued Emily, "which first? Can you stay attentive on me while your cock begs for relief? Or do you want to be sucked off first, and then leave after going down on me?"

Damn, these were tough instructors. I didn't want to leave with a hard-on, which was certainly going to happen when I went down on Emily. But could I last for a grand finale of Wendy sucking me? This was the question they'd started the evening with: Could I give undivided attention to eating pussy even when my cock was throbbing?

"Ladies first," I said proudly. They looked impressed, albeit skeptical that I'd manage.

Emily stripped bare. Now all three of us were naked. She sat on the sofa and I knelt, admiring the difference in their anatomies. Emily was sleek, more angular, tighter. Wendy was curvier, more sensual.

I kissed Emily's thigh. Then her other thigh. Moved my tongue closer. Circled her outer lips, then her more delicate inner lips. I felt every contraction, every little whimper, and made note. My aching cock throbbed. Gratitude, I told myself. Emily is giving me this great gift. I focused on her favorite areas.

"You can put a finger in her," Wendy said.

I glanced up to Emily; she nodded. I slid my index finger into her wet slit, licking all around. I went in and out with my finger, licking with the same rhythm, hitting her favorite areas. Her moaning began. I grazed her clit. Bingo. I went harder for her clit.

"No, not yet, give it time," instructed Emily.

"Sorry." I moved away but then more slowly worked this into my routine as I had with Wendy--smaller, shorter licks, growing with speed and intensity with each return, all while fucking her with my finger. Her moaning became louder. I slid my middle finger inside her, too. A louder moan and a squirm came as my answer. I focused more on her clit, and before I knew it she screamed, tensed, bucked, and collapsed.

Breathless, Emily mustered, "He's gonna be good."

My cock was in pain. I didn't want to push the issue, but I needed attention badly. I got up and moved to the chair.

"Eager?" asked Wendy.

"Yes," no point denying it.

"Okay, now think about this while you're in my mouth: I'm doing this because you're worthy. You're a good listener. You focus, even when it would be easier not to. This is my way of saying good job."

Her mouth enveloped my whole cock. Her head bobbed up and down, she didn't change pace, her pleasure-giving was constant. I thought about her, and Emily--my teachers. I was filled with gratitude. They chose me. Gave me confidence. I was a new man. A worthy man. I exploded in heavy bursts in her mouth. She milked my shaft as Emily had, backed away, and swallowed.

"You're incredible. Thank you. Thank you both."

"This was about giving and receiving," said Wendy.

I began dressing. "I think I received much more than I gave."

They dressed as well, both smiling at their pupil.

"Until next week," said Emily.

"Yes, but right now I'm living in the moment."

"Now that," said Wendy, "is a lesson we all need."