I reached up, grabbed the back of the chair with my right hand, then my left, and hauled myself forward. The chair threatened to tip forward and fold me backward, but I managed to bring my thighs up just in time to shift the balance in my favor. Having conquered the momentum of the chair, I took a deep breath, and let it out from my flaming lungs. My entire body was pouring with sweat, my hair was matted, and my clothes were damp and hot, but I had done it. With just a simple twist of my body, I was slouched back in the chair, and facing Catherine Jonias.“There,” I wheezed, “you fucking cunt.”She stared back at me; an appraising look on her face. “Very good,” she said, “very… very good.” She turned around, “You can wheel yourself around now, Your Highness.”“That’s my reward?”She looked back at me. “Reward? I believe I was punishing you.” She turned back to the door she was about to exit, “Besides,” she said, “if you want to climb stairs, you’d better be able to sit in a chair.” And. So it worked out all right.There was never any question about whether I liked getting licked. My only hesitation was embarrassment, having a guy's face down there where he could look right at the very place I'd been taught to always cover up. But I figured that if a boy's dry, stubby finger felt good down there, his softer, wetter tongue would feel even better. And, boy, was I right!By the time I graduated from college (BA in history, minor in government), I had been screwed in every orifice and position I knew about. I'd been screwed in dorm and hotel rooms and apartments, in cars, trucks and vans, in the woods, at the beach, in a tent, on a blanket, in a closet and even in a vacant classroom. Oh, and in the gazebo behind the Delta Gamma house one very drunk New Year's Eve. But never by more than one at a time.The closest I came to it was in fantasy. Believe it or not, there were times I got myself off with no help from anything but my fingers. More than a few times, actually,.
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