Chapter 8

In the weeks and months that followed, Patti and I were inseparable -- or, at least, as inseparable as a couple can be when one partner is on the road exactly half the time, and is working nights while his partner works days, even when he's at home.

But we worked around it. I gave Patti a key to my house in the close-in Baltimore 'burbs, and during Oriole home stands she would go there after work on days she didn't come to the ballpark to watch us play. Even when she came to the games, she'd leave immediately afterward and I'd have a late supper waiting for me when I got home.

But she never stayed the night, and even after we'd dated for weeks, we hadn't had sex.

I figured Patti was far more conservative about such matters than I was, and resolved not to rush her. She certainly wasn't cold to me. She was a passionate kisser, and she seemed to love our long, frantic sessions on my couch, tightly clinched and passionately exchanging tongues until both of us were completely breathless.

We did all the preliminary things that young couples do to express their growing passion: Adolescent stuff, really. I felt her breasts -- first through her clothes and, later, with her blouse and bra removed and her lovely, smallish nubbins nestled in my hot hands. She had wonderful, large "puffies" that made her small breasts stand out in a curious combination of softness, contradicted by their tiny, pointy-erect centers.

She loved it when I touched and kissed her breasts. Sometimes, she seemed almost to reach orgasm that way.

But she kept herself off-limits, below the waistline.

I tried to be patient, but this was getting frustrating in the extreme. "What's wrong, Patti?" I would ask her. "I know you want me to go further. Why are you stopping me?"

"Please don't!" she would say. If I desisted immediately, the passionate kissing and above-the-waist fondling would be resumed. If I tried to press forward, the mood would be quickly lost and Patti would end the lovemaking session peremptorily.

One night, late after a game and much later than either of us should have still been awake with a working day awaiting us, Patti answered my attempts at advancing below her waist with an offensive of her own. She unzipped my fly and reached into it, seeking out the hardened penis she already knew was waiting for her there.

I was surprised at the expertise she demonstrated in extracting my cock from my Jockeys and bringing it out into the light of the evening.

Swiftly, competently, Patti lowered her head into my lap and took me into her mouth. It felt wonderful and the sense of relief that washed over me was even better than the sex itself! She had actually made the first overtly sexual move that had taken our relationship beyond the high-school-freshman stage.

Now she was expertly licking and sucking on my grateful organ and sending waves of pleasure through my body. This obviously wasn't the first time Patti had engaged in this activity. She was no novice. This girl could suck a cock with the best of them!

That had to mean that we were finally on our way to having an adult sexual relationship! Patti had finally decided that we were going to be lovers!

And so I made an effort, while she was still pleasuring me with her mouth, to rearrange our bodies so that I could return the favor. I wanted to remove her slacks and, if possible, taste her, and pleasure her, much in the way that she was pleasuring me.

But she resisted, fiercely.

It as insane! My cock was deep in her mouth, but my hands were not permitted below the waistline of her slacks!

This was a decided turn-off for me, but, hey, I'm a guy, and a guy with his cock in a woman's mouth isn't going to be turned off altogether. My erection remained, and Patti's loving attentions to its needs didn't slacken.

I held her head -- lightly -- as she bobbed up and down on my lap, and I listened to the distinct, decidedly unladylike slurping noises her mouth was making as it wetly sucked my increasingly blood-filled cock.

I'm only average in length, but Patti was the first woman who'd ever taken me all the way into her mouth and throat, so that I could feel her distended lips touching my pubic hair with every thrust. Oh, Jesus, that was erotic! I could feel myself building to a climax that would surely send her across the room from the force of the blast.

"Patti! I'm going to come!"

She never hesitated. She just kept at it -- increasing the tempo -- if that was possible -- until finally I let out a sigh and felt what seemed like a continuous stream come flying out of me and directly into her waiting mouth.

She swallowed it all without difficulty, giving my deeply embedded cock waves of additional pleasure in the process. Once again, I allowed myself to be shocked and surprised by her apparent expert knowledge of the art of fellatio.

She smiled up at me in the way that every man who has ever been given a first-rate blow job knows and remembers. She was holding my semi-erect penis in her hand now, squeezing it in case there was anything left in there that needed to come out.

There wasn't.

"Jesus, Patti, that was sensational!" I said.

She smiled, lightly kissing the head of my now-harmless little cock, and then she rose up to kiss me on the mouth. I got a little tongue, and tasted a touch of myself there.

"Thank you for that," I said. "It was wonderful. But now it's my turn. I've wanted to kiss you there ever since I first..."

"Not tonight, Bobby," she said, peremptorily. "It's late, and I've gotta be at work in --" she looked at her watch -- "in five hours! I've gotta go home!"