Kinky Confessions

Along those lines, I realized that I enjoyed ballroom dancing. I even decided to give up judo, since I didn’t have time for both. Besides, sparring had never been the same after Glen had left for the Army. So I channeled my aggression into dance instead. Much to my surprise, I discovered that mental focus and physical exertion were just as relaxing on a dance floor as a judo mat.

A small part of me missed the thrill of scoring points on a better opponent or winning a tough match, but not enough to trade Christy’s happiness for my own. Besides, my dance partner was more attractive than any of my sparring partners had been, and no one freaked out if we had good chemistry.

Christy enjoyed the dancing itself, but playing dress-up was a big part of it too. All the female dancers wore high heels and skirts or dresses, even for practice. She also enjoyed the snacks, since I had to feed her before and after practice. She burned a lot of energy twirling around the dance floor, and my duffel bag was usually full of granola bars, fresh fruit, and baggies of nuts, raisins, and the usual assortment of bunny-type veggies.

She always had more energy after dance practice (as long as I fed her on the way home), and that translated directly to her sex drive. At first I thought

she was rewarding me for joining the dance team, but then I realized she needed the release of an orgasm—hers or mine, it didn’t seem to matter. I jokingly told myself that if we ever broke up, I’d suffer blue balls within hours.

I also started paying more attention to her body and the calendar. I worried that we might’ve messed up danger week or that pre-come had gotten her pregnant, but her period arrived exactly when it was supposed to, and it made her even hornier than usual.

“Mmm, deep throat practice,” she said the first night. She climbed into bed and threw back the covers. “I need to call Erin,” she mused as she stroked my cock to life. “Can she take you all the way?”

“Not quite.”

“Can your mom?”

I silently marveled at how easily she’d adjusted to the new reality.

“I bet she can,” she said before I could answer. “Your dad’s bigger than you are. His penis. It’s longer, I mean. I know you’re self-conscious about your size. I don’t know why. You’re bigger than most guys, and I think you’re perfect. Obviously. But where was I? Oh, right. Your mom. Can she deep throat you? All the way?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. Susan too, right?”

“Mmm hmm.”

She frowned in thought. “I think it’s the thickness. That causes me problems, I mean. I’m so small, even my mouth. I’m not afraid of holding my breath or anything like that, but I can’t seem to get it into my throat.” She made another dizzying leap. “Hold on, can Leah?”

“No. She has a pretty strong gag reflex. I guess that’s why she enjoys the taste more than the delivery.”

“It’s a good thing I love both,” Christy said. “And it’s a good thing I don’t have a strong gag reflex. I was talking to Brooke about it—her mother has a couple of sex books, and I asked her to look it up for me. Brooke, not her mother.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “I kinda figured.”

“Right. So, I asked her about it. She read me what it said in the book, but it’s all generic stuff like ‘relax your throat’ and ‘don’t force it.’ What good is that? I need examples! Step by step! Diagrams!” She screwed up her face in concentration. “I think we’ll have to watch the movie, too. Like, a thousand

times. It doesn’t really give any instructions, though.”

She gripped my hard-on and looked up at me with manic eagerness. “Do you think we can put an ad in the back of one of those magazines? You know, something like, ‘Enterprising young lady seeks instruction in the art of sword swallowing. Female instructors only, please. Send application and references to Box 69, Knoxville, Tennessee, um…’ Hold on, what’s our zip code again?”

I chuckled and told her.

“Right! Thanks. ‘Send application and references to Box—’ Hey, why’re you laughing? I’m serious about this. I’m an enterprising young lady!”

“And you have a sword to swallow,” I added as seriously as I could.

“Darn right I do. I wanna be the best little cocksucker ever. At least where you’re concerned. What? Don’t look so surprised. I know the word.

‘Cocksucker.’ See? I said it again. Besides,” she continued before I could even laugh, “this is all new and exciting. No one’s ever asked me to deep throat before.” She had a sudden thought and shuddered theatrically. “Thank goodness, too! Can you imagine if Tom had wanted me to?

“No, of course you can’t,” she said. “You don’t know who he is. But if you must know, he was my boyfriend before Blake, who was my first official boyfriend. You don’t know him either, but he was before Simon. So there.

Now you know all my boyfriends. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right, Tom! He was huge. And I don’t mean like Terri’s boobs, but huge-huge. Like, the size of my forearm. It was enormous, Paul! I could barely fit the head in my mouth.”