Natural Born Cocksucker (Part Three)

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This piece is part of a series:

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

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Chloe was, she supposed, someone who might be referred to as “quiet”… at least by the standards of the students with whom she shared a flat.

They went out at least three times a week, usually to the campus nightclub (though, every so often, they’d venture into town to go to a “real” club). Before going out they would spend several hours in the kitchen, pre-drinking and playing noisy, chaotic games that almost always resulted in something getting broken. After going out they would return home at three in the morning, talking in hushed voices that were somehow louder than their normal voices.

After a few gallant outings during Fresher’s Week, Chloe had decided that clubbing wasn’t for her. After briefly trying to persuade her otherwise, her flatmates accepted this. They’d invite her out to the pub every so often, but it was given, now, that if they were going out out, Chloe would be staying at home.

This situation now put her at a frustrating disadvantage. What she wanted to do, Chloe thought to herself, was hook up with a boy. And hooking up was something that mostly happened at nightclubs. That was certainly how her flatmates managed it. In fact, some of her flatmates were enviably good at it.

Kate, for example. Kate was the girl in the room next door to Chloe, and Kate was particularly good at attracting the attention of broad-shouldered boys with posh accents and wet-looking hair. At least once a week, it seemed, she would return from a night out with one of them following along in her wake.

Chloe was under no illusion that these boys were just friends. They were Kate’s conquests, or she theirs. Chloe knew this because her room shared a thin cinder block wall with Kate’s room. When Kate hooked up with a boy, Chloe could hear everything.

The noises Kate made were almost always the same – exaggerated, tortured, porny moans that somehow, though infuriatingly fake, would turn Chloe on. The boys would grunt, mostly – sometimes low, satisfied grunts and sometimes a high and desperate ones.

Kate would always apologise in the morning. “I’m sorry,” she’d say. “Were we too loud? Oh gawd. SO embarrassing. We just got… you know… a bit carried away.”

And though she blushed while apologising, Chloe couldn’t help but feel that Kate was somehow bragging – somehow showing off to her, to Chloe (who had never brought a boy back to her narrow little halls bedroom, and had never moaned theatrically underneath a different boy two nights in a row, and who in fact had never had a boy so much as buy her a drink).

The ease with which Kate managed to bring attractive specimens home with her made Chloe feel like something of an ugly duckling by comparison. Or… not ugly, as such, but ungainly. Kate knew exactly what she was doing. Boys were effortless for her.

Chloe had witnessed this in the first few chaotic weeks of term when she had ventured out with the group. She’d watched Kate be approached by a seemingly-endless stream of boys, and watched as she flirted with those she liked, dismissed those she didn’t, and steadily harvested drinks and fawning compliments and attention all night long.

It was something which had hardly bothered Chloe at the time. Now, however, she felt almost sick with envy at the thought of how easily Kate would be able to source a willing cock to suck. And the thought that she, Chloe, really didn’t know if she could.

Nonetheless, she had made up her mind: she was going to try.

*

She picked a Wednesday, because nobody from her flat ever went out on a Wednesday. And she timed her exit carefully so that nobody would see her leaving halls in a short black dress and makeup that had taken her more than two hours to complete.

It was a brisk evening, and only just dark as she crossed campus. Chloe felt watched. She felt like she was wearing a costume. The dress was the shortest she owned, and it kept riding up her thighs to become even shorter. She had shaved her legs and they itched. Even for the short walk to the campus nightclub a coat would have been comforting.

She arrived. She joined the short queue at the door behind a white boy with dreadlocks. He eyed her openly as he finished a can of lager, and Chloe instantly fantasised about offering to suck his dick, and him accepting, and him taking her by the hand and leading her away somewhere, a room somewhere on campus, and making her kneel between his legs…

The boy with the dreadlocks appeared to lose interest in her. He was let in. Then Chloe: wristband, handstamp, into the slightly muggy warmth of the campus nightclub.

It wasn’t packed, but there were enough bodies that Chloe had to slide her way to the bar. She purchased a cider. Found a spot at the edge of the room. The music vibrated through the floor and through her feet and all the way up to her knees. She drank. She watched milling bodies – groups of people swimming between one another like fish.

And none of them looking at her.

How to approach a boy? How did Kate do it? Kate didn’t do it. Kate never approached a boy. Boys approached Kate.

Should she dance? Chloe didn’t want to dance, but she equally didn’t want to stand by the wall drinking alone all night.

Taking a breath, she insinuated herself into the crowd. Warm bodies on every side. She brushed up against boys. They moved around her. Gave her space. Bodies moving away from her, as though magnetically repelled. She paused and looked around, trying to make eye contact. Nobody.

For almost half an hour, Chloe tried. She did dance for a while. And boys floated into her periphery and then floated away again before she could really engage with them. Around her everyone was in their tight-knit nuclear groups – impossible to slip into. The longer she kept at it the more she felt obtrusive and obvious. A freak or a slut; someone who people were avoiding on purpose.

Piqued, she retired to the bar and ordered another cider, which she took to the edge of the dancefloor. As she went to take a sip someone lurched against her and knocked her drink neatly out of her hand. It splashed onto the floor in a slick of ice and liquid.

Irritated, Chloe looked up to see the boy with dreadlocks who she’d caught looking at her outside the front door. He was with his friends. In fact, it looked like his friends had been dragging him to the bar when he’d stumbled into her.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” he said, leaning close to shout in her ear.

“It’s fine,” said Chloe, but the music was too loud and he didn’t hear her. He apologised again and again, and then – quite suddenly – he had her by the arm and was taking her to the bar. Chloe let herself be taken. His name was Aaron, he whisper-shouted to her. And he was sorry. He wanted, he told her, to buy her a replacement drink. He felt guilty. He was so clumsy. Let him make it up to her.

Chloe felt a sudden shot of adrenaline. A maddening little impulse to act. Now. To do what she’d come here to do. The first boy that had spoken to her all night, yes, but why not him? She wasn’t sure if he remembered eyeing her in the queue, but the fact that he had made it feel bizarrely as though she knew him already.

He leaned in to speak into her ear again. “What do you want?” he said.

Chloe paused for a moment. And then she leaned in to him, and he obediently brought his ear down to her mouth so that she could speak. And she spoke, although she couldn’t hear her own words. She said, “What I really, actually want – if you don’t mind – is to suck you off.”

He recoiled, blinking. “Huh?” Expressions ranged across his face. Was he appalled? Annoyed? Disgusted? Chloe didn’t much care. The noise and the crowd and the fact that nobody would just notice her (like they might notice a girl like Kate) was irritating her past the point of caution. She beckoned him in again so she could speak into his ear.

 “I want to suck your dick. Go down on you. I’m just… yeah. I don’t want a drink. I just want to do that for you.”

He recoiled again, staring at her in disbelief. Almost suspicion. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” said Chloe. He was staring at her, his expression still utterly shocked. How frustrating! Chloe felt a little ball of anger in her chest. How could she be any clearer? She’d gone to all the effort of making herself look nice. She’d come out. She’d danced. She’d plucked up the courage to just go ahead and ask. She’d done all the things. Why weren’t they on their way to his room already?

She leaned in again. “Do you want me to?” she said. “I’m going to ask someone else if not.”

That seemed to do it. Aaron looked around for his friends and, not seeing them, took Chloe’s hand and lead her out through the mass of people. They dived out into the smoking area, where he turned to her again.

“You’re sure? You really want to… you know… do that?”

It was dark out by now, and he looked different in the dark. Thinner. Younger. “I do,” said Chloe. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

“Yeah.” Aaron laughed, almost to himself, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening. And then he took her hand again (it wasn’t actually that unpleasant to hold hands with him, Chloe thought) and lead her out of the smoking area and across the square.

To Chloe’s surprise, they didn’t head towards the cluster of halls accommodation. Instead he led her down some steps and past the closed campus shop to the little cul-de-sac behind the Arts building where the recycling bins were stored. Six huge green skips overflowing with bundles of cardboard. The place was barely lit, shadowy and quiet. It was a dead end.

Chloe stopped in her tracks, uncertain.

“Where are we going?”

Aaron seemed unperturbed. “It’s quiet here.”

And he pulled her onward. And Chloe let herself be pulled onward, her moment of fear now behind her. She should be scared, she thought, but he was so young-looking and so boyishly horny that she felt not the least bit threatened by him. Quite the opposite in fact. She almost got the sense that he was scared of her.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t nervous. She felt jittery and tense, just as she had when unwrapping the dildo she had bought off the internet. She felt like something was about to happen. She knew something was about to happen.

In fact, she knew exactly what was about to happen. He was going to take her into the dark behind the bins, and she was going to get down on her knees and suck his cock. There, in a dirty, ratty alleyway, surrounded by trash. Not in a bedroom, like she’d imagined. Not after a long, quiet stroll across campus. No – it was going to happen now, just a few minutes after she’d first proposed the idea to him.

It required barely any time or thought at all for Chloe to decide to let it happen.

For just a split-second, she did contemplate pulling away. Insisting that they go somewhere more quiet. Demanding to be taken to his flat. Telling him that she wasn’t the kind of girl who sucked dick in alleyways with boys she’d only just met.

But that impulse lasted no longer than a split second. Because if she wasn’t that kind of girl it was only because she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to be.

She wanted to be that kind of girl. Sort of. She wanted it like she wanted to be pushed down on a cock to the point of choking. The thought of it turned her on so much that it made her light-headed and jittery. The reality was unpleasant, but the unpleasantness of it only made it more exciting.

It was humiliating, in a way. Being dragged out to a dirty alleyway to be used abruptly and unromantically. It was scary. Dark. It smelled like piss out here by the bins. It was too dark to see the boy’s face anymore. Part of her was uncertain and fearful and part of her wanted more: let him push me down, back me up against the side of a bin, fuck my mouth until I gag, grab my hair and come into my throat…

Chloe allowed herself to be pulled into the darkest little patch of darkness, where one big skip abutted another. She let the boy move her. When he pushed her down towards the ground she knelt, knees meeting concrete.

Things proceeded very quickly after that.

He undid his belt and pulled his cock out, and it was stiff already. Chloe, with a lurch of destabilising arousal, took it in both hands. Too dark to see, really, but it felt big. Thick and short rather than long, but pleasingly thick. It was in her mouth and she was pushing forward, overwhelmed momentarily, by the desire to gag on it.

She didn’t gag on it, but the girth of him forced her mouth open to a degree that made her jaw ache. A beautiful ache. Did she have all of him in her mouth already? Her nose was pressed into his pubic hair. No room for her hands on the shaft of his cock, so she was gripping the waistband of his jeans. She rolled her tongue against the massive obstruction in her mouth, and was rewarded when his cock gave a rapid, pulsing twitch.

That twitch was enough to make her forget almost everything else. The hard concrete under her knees. The stink of the bins. The dark and the danger. She wanted to feel his cock do that again and again and again, each time in response to something she was doing. She was making his cock twitch like that. She rolled her tongue against him again, and pushed forward some more, pulling on his belt for leverage.

She managed a good long suck before she gagged. Longer than she had managed the first time she went down on a boy. And when she did gag, the nauseating sensation of it was accompanied by a destabilising spike of arousal. She pulled back just far enough to swallow it down, catch a breath… and then she pushed herself forward again, impaling her face on his cock.

Aaron grunted. She felt his hand on the back of her head. Yes, she thought, yes, yes, yes, do it, push me down, make me, hold me, make me take it, choke me. An incoherent torrent of thought. But he didn’t push her down. He simply rested his hand there. He grunted again, and Chloe grunted in response around his cock.

This was so much better than the dildo. Warm. Alive. Twitching. A living thing – a biological cock attached to a real boy. A boy who would, she was sure, ejaculate into her mouth if she kept going for long enough.

That thought made her unhook one hand from his belt and delve in between his legs. His balls – grape-sized and so much more soft and tender than the balls of her practise dildo. No synthetic material could capture that feeling, Chloe thought; the feeling of complex and sensitive structures beneath a thin, warm skin.

She held them in her hand, closed her lips around the shaft of his cock and sucked. And then, without even a grunt of warning (and what felt like less than a minute after she had started touching him) he came in her mouth.

The first spurt of come actually bypassed her mouth altogether and hit the back of her throat. Chloe felt it land there, warm and liquid, and in the brief half-second before she gagged she felt a thrill of arousal that felt maddeningly, tantalisingly close to orgasm.

A moment later she was choking. Messily. Abjectly. Her stomach convulsed and her throat closed up and her head spun. She was still holding his cock, still cupping his balls, but now he was outside her mouth, ejaculating onto her cheek as she drooled and coughed up the come he’d shot into her throat.

Even as she choked, though, Chloe was also seized by a sense of happy awe. His come was different. And not just a little bit different, but completely so. Which meant that, perhaps, every boy’s come was subtly different from every others, which was a possibility that excited her so acutely that it didn’t even matter that she was choking violently.

His come was sweet. Barely any salt to it at all. And liquid, too. The first load she’d had from the boy at the party had been syrupy – a little like a dose of olive oil or the yolk of an egg. The mouthful of it she’d swallowed had slipped down into her stomach in a mass.

This boy’s come, however, was much more watery. Sleek and sweet and thin, leaking out of her mouth even as it slipped down her convulsing throat. The come on her cheek barely clung there at all. She felt it drip hotly down, landing on the shoulder of her dress.

With a significant effort, Chloe suppressed the need to choke, and lunged forward, getting his cock back into her mouth in time to get the last couple of spurts of his come. Sweet, still, and so liquid that it practically sloshed in her mouth. She couldn’t swallow without gagging, which was immensely disappointing, and so she held it for a moment and then drooled it out around his cock.

When she was sure that he’d finished coming, Chloe rocked back on her heels. She gasped for breath. Cold air reached her face, tingling on the wet mix of spit and come on her chin. She wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist, and allowed herself, finally, to cough and gag until the urge to do so had disappeared.

When she looked up again, Aaron was standing above her, fiddling with his belt. She waited until he was done putting himself away and then stood. Her knees hurt a lot – a kind of ground glass feeling, accompanied by a muscular stiffness in her thighs. She winced.

“You okay?” said Aaron.

“Yeah,” she said.

They stood. An awkward silence. Both of them breathless. Chloe’s heart pounded.

“You… wanna go back?” said Aaron, touching her shoulder awkwardly.

“Yeah,” said Chloe. The world was still spinning a little, like she’d just come up from a long time underwater. “Yeah, I guess.”

Together they edged out from between the bins and set off out of the little cul-de-sac behind the Arts building. For one second, Chloe was quite sure that Aaron was going to take her hand again… but he clearly thought better of it, and they walked beside one another instead.

There was come on her dress, Chloe knew. She didn’t want to clean it off. It didn’t feel important. It was dark. Nobody would see. And she wanted it there so she could look at it later.

When they got close enough to the campus nightclub to hear the thud of the music once more, Chloe felt herself overcome with a kind of irritated lethargy. She didn’t want to go back in. She didn’t want to be around Aaron anymore. She wanted her space. She wanted it now, while the memories of what she’d just done were good and fresh and she could go over them and re-examine everything.

She stopped. Aaron stopped too. He turned to face her. Was he going to kiss her? Did he want to kiss her? Chloe couldn’t tell, and so she waited a moment before speaking to see if he would do anything. He didn’t.

“Listen,” she said. “I’m kind of tired.”

“Oh,” said Aaron. And then, “Sure, of course. Sure.”

“I think I’m going to head home.”

And he said that was fine, of course, and she reiterated how tired she was, and that she had a lecture the next day, and he said that was fine too, and she said that she wished she could stay out but she was just so sleepy, and he said he should probably go and find his friends anyway, and they both laughed, and in this manner they awkwardly and delicately disentangled themselves from one another and parted ways.

Chloe walked home across the campus. It was dark and quiet. Her knees hurt, her throat felt pleasingly slick, and her head was full of thoughts, her pussy throbbing gently with the need to be touched. A need which she was already anticipating attending to.

As she arrived back at the door to her halls building, she found herself wondering – for a very brief moment – if Aaron had wanted to kiss her. It was an odd thing to be curious about, because it didn’t matter now, and it hadn’t mattered to her then, and she wasn’t quite sure whether it would have mattered one way or the other if he had kissed her, though she didn’t know for sure.

For a moment Chloe pondered this question. Then her pussy gave a particularly pronounced throb of desire, and the question slid quietly out of her head. There were more immediate things to attend to, she decided, and she let herself into her building and went upstairs to her room.