Sometimes the first blowjob is the best, or anyway the one by which all subsequent blowjobs are measured.

They met in art school. She was taking Life Studies. He was the model. Naked. She liked his dick right off. She was thinking about it on the subway home that afternoon. Fond thoughts. Curious thoughts. She wondered if that evening she’d do a fuller drawing—giving him an erection. Contemplating his cock made her wet.

And there he was, in the same subway car, standing right before her in the rush hour crush. Their eyes met. The train lurched and he almost fell onto her lap, saving himself at the last instant by grabbing the handhold. But for a moment his body had all but collided with her. “Sorry,” he mouthed. The rumble of the train was too much for real words.

Without really thinking about it she let her hands stray to his pants. To the zipper. A slow slow tug. No underwear. She moved her head close. Closer. She fished him out. Just far enough. And there he was, fat and warm in her mouth, with the train rocking them, and their fellow commuters might as well have been on a spaceship to Mars.

They missed his stop. So much cum. She couldn’t contain it all. Once he’d softened a bit she tucked him back into his pants. Did the zipper up, but only halfway. Gave him a loving pat.

At her stop he followed her out. Followed her home.

That evening she did the fuller drawing from real life. The next day she did a painting of the subway blowjob.

Over the next few years she did several more sketches from real life blowjobs, some in the comfort of their bed, or sitting side-by-side on their living room couch to the music of Brahms or Springsteen, but none in as public a place as that rush hour subway, though there was a lovely handjob in the back of a taxicab on the way home from her first private showing.

On her twenty-fifth birthday he gave her a blowjob mat, though it wasn’t so named at first. The inaugural fellatio had her kneeling and him standing before her. With one hand she traced the seam of his scrotal sac. With the other she caressed his buttocks. The tip of her tongue tested the penis slit, then strayed to that special place just beneath the cock’s crown. The fingers at his bottom found the bud of his anus. She teased him there while continuing to stroke the seam and lick the special spot. When the time was right, she pushed a finger into his asshole. Spurt after spurt of cum covered her face. It went without saying that that was almost the best blowjob ever. “Honey, honey, honey,” he crooned, kneeling next to her, pressing his face against hers. She pushed him back and cleaned her face against his chest and then sucked him strong and hard and mounted him and fucked him through three orgasms of her own. The next day she did two pictures of the birthday blowjob, one in black and white, the other a pastel.