Rug Burns (Reviving Haven Book 2) (3 page)

Mike didn’t taste bad. I was really doing this. I almost wanted to do the happy dance—if his penis hadn’t been in my mouth.

Shit. No one mentioned when you gave a BJ, the finale included stuff shooting out. Gross. It tasted salty and thick in my throat. Kind of like mucus when you’re sick. Mike was pumping into my mouth nonstop. How much crap was there? I felt like I’d swallowed a gallon. Was it okay to ingest this shit? Apparently.

Brandi hadn’t bothered to tell me about this. I could understand why. I might have had second thoughts if I knew a thick, phlegm-like substance was going to be in my mouth. I tried to pretend it was something else. The only thing I could compare it with was my mom’s lemon meringue pie. I loved lemons—evidently bananas too. But that stuff on the top—meringue—reminded me of nasal discharge. I always put that down the garbage disposal. I hated the texture in my mouth.

Mike finally stopped and pulled away. He was breathing heavy and his cheeks were flushed. I grabbed my soda and took a long drink. I really wanted to spit. Badly. But girls didn’t spit; it wasn’t ladylike. I have a newsflash: neither is sucking a boy’s penis, but it had been kind of cool.

“Wow, you’ve done that before, haven’t you? That really felt good. Can we do it again?” Mike asked, excitement filling his voice.

Again. Really? As much as I enjoyed it, I was kind of over him. “Nah, can you take me home?” I asked, scooting over toward the passenger door and furiously sipping my soda.

“Louisa, I kind of thought we could hang out a while longer. What you did—that was fucking amazing. You seemed to like it. Can’t we do it again please?” He was actually whining.

Putting a boy’s dick in your mouth equals fame and power. Good to know.

Oh my God. Wait a minute.

Mike was a big man on campus. There were slogans in the girl’s bathroom about how good he was. I wondered if my remarkable talent was now going to be etched on the wall in the boy’s bathroom. Best way to advertise. I’d also read about how big Mike’s dick was. They weren’t wrong about his size, but I also didn’t have anything to compare it to—yet.

I found out in the next twenty minutes he’d never done anything. He was as inexperienced as I was, although I kept that little ditty to myself. The only other person to fondle him besides me was himself. In retrospect, that was a good thing. His expectations were low, so sucking him earned me an A-plus. It appeared that grade was going to give me a popular reputation. It might be bad with the girls, but the boys would adore me.

My mom had always told me, “Your words have power.” She had no idea. It wasn’t the words. It was my mouth. I was tired of being the smart, nerdy nobody. The girl who had nothing to offer but red hair, dull skin, and no boobs. I’d rather be known as a slut. A whore. At least I’d be known for something I had talent for.

“Can you take me home now?” I nonchalantly asked Mike, as if I had better things to do. I smoothed down my shirt and pulled out a pink glossy lipstick Brandi had given me. I slid it over my lips as he watched with anticipation. For a minute, I thought I saw drool.

“Really? Come on, Louisa, just one more time. Please.” He was begging.

I felt fierce. Strong. Desired. Special. And most of all, he wanted me. He was actually pleading. I felt a surge go through my body as I recognized what an opportunity this was. This single night was going to transform my future. It was going to change me forever.

“No. Just take me home. Maybe some other time. And, Mike, if you ever want your dick in my mouth again, just know I’m not going by Louisa anymore. It’s Weezie now.”

The
last two years of high school were amazing. I had friends. I even had a few boyfriends. But mostly, I had experiences. I held on to my virginity as if it were the key to the pearly gates. If I had to be honest, I wasn’t saving it for
the one
. Mostly, I was petrified. After my first experience giving head—yup, now that I had about twenty under my belt, I had quite a vocabulary for putting a dick in my mouth—I wasn’t going to trust Brandi anymore to tell me the truth about sexuality. She tended to sugarcoat things, and I wanted to know what to expect so I didn’t look like a dufus.

I actually had a clique of girls I hung with. One episode of putting a dick into your mouth and you became the “it” girl. Casey was my go-to person when I wanted the actual truth about all things sex. She was the resident slut. I’d read about it while I was peeing in the girl’s restroom. Evidently, she’d opened her legs to so many boys she had to track them via a computer spreadsheet. She showed it to me once. My only thought:
impressive
.

She gave me the skinny on virginity and the lack thereof. It gave me chills just hearing her talk about it. The way she described it sounded painful and not all that pleasurable. I guess all that bullshit about bells ringing and fireworks was a crock of shit. I supposed that’s why people waited until marriage or some token hot guy. If you were going to be bleeding and writhing in pain, it should be because of his royal hotness.

I had absolutely no desire to have sex. But I enjoyed getting guys off. It not only made them feel good, but it gave me a rush too. I wasn’t thrilled with the ejaculating in my mouth, and Brandi had told me I never had to swallow. She claimed it had too many calories. Never mind it tasted like ass most of the time. But now I found out it could make me fat too? She gave me options. Either have them pull out or spit.

For some reason, though, it really didn’t seem fulfilling if I didn’t follow through to completion. If I psyched myself up, I always managed to swallow. Sometimes the taste wasn’t that bad, and sometimes it was downright nasty. Breath mints became my number one investment. Depending on the dick, I ate one before or after. And if one wasn’t handy, I tried to pretend it was something else.

Brandi had gotten me a fake-bronzed spittoon for my birthday. Ha-ha. The way I was going, it might be needed in the future.

So even under peer pressure, I was content with my sexuality the way it was. I didn’t deem it necessary to rid myself of my V-card just yet. No, I wasn’t waiting for that token hot guy; I was stalling. At some point, I would get to it, but I didn’t have it on my bucket list. Or my to-do list, the one I made for college. I figured I was going to be the only virgin, and possibly, I could use that to my advantage. I knew eventually I would have to give up the goods. College wasn’t high school. Those boys would be men. And I knew I was only postponing the inevitable.

I met Haven Wells when I was a freshman in college. It was by sheer luck that we even ran into each other. I’d only been on campus for a few weeks; I hadn’t even gotten a dorm mate yet. The college was co-ed, so I hoped for an opportunity to bunk with a hottie. There was also the distinct possibility I’d have some creepster. Actually, having the room to myself was great. I could bring back boys and not worry about some Bible-thumping, chastising roommate who would counsel me on my wicked ways and threaten me with burning in hell. I’d already met the purity group on campus. I didn’t tell a lie. I told them flat out my hymen was intact. Of course, I left out the part that I’d been blowing the opposite sex for two years.

One Friday night, I’d been invited to a frat party. Booze and boys. Woo-hoo! I dressed accordingly. I had no idea if it was all of the dick I’d been sucking or the come I’d been ingesting, but I’d filled out. I had curves and boobs. My mom had been right. Bless her heart. Let’s just say my C-cups runneth over. My skin was now soft and smooth, and I’d been going to a salon for the last year. My hair had waves, not clown curls. I’ll go out on a limb and say I looked sexy. I might not have been a ten in the looks department, but when word got out I had special skills, I became a twelve.

At this particular party, evidently no one wanted a blowjob. They wanted to get laid. Sure, they would take the BJ as foreplay, but what they really wanted was virgin pussy.
Seriously!
That must have gotten out too. Did this college and the fucking frat house have some master list of virgins?

I leaned up against the far wall, “scouting” the troops. I saw many possibilities, and if I continued doing shots, those prospects would grow. By the end of the night, I wouldn’t be too picky. No, I didn’t feel like a slut, but I thought like one. I wasn’t going to apologize to anyone just because I enjoyed sucking cock.

“Hey, Weasel, you wanna play quarters with us?”

I looked up at some random guy wearing sweatpants and a college logo shirt. “It’s Weezie, you asshat,” I replied with a smirk.

“Whatever. We’d love you… to join us.”

How cute. They thought they had to get me wasted first. I chuckled to myself. I looked over at the table with a slanted smile. Oh, this wasn’t going to be bad at all. There were at least eight of them, and three were gorgeous. Even though my eyes stayed fixated on their cocks when I was doing them, occasionally it was nice to have that erection attached to a visual feast. And there were many I expected would taste delicious covered in chocolate and smothered with whipped cream.

I moved away from the wall. That’s when I noticed her. Now, I normally never checked out chicks. I was strictly a penis woman. But there was something about her. A sadness. A shyness. She looked younger than most of the students here and lonely. This girl reminded me of myself just two years prior. She was pretty enough, but her clothes appeared to come from Plain Jane Monthly. Black baggy sweatpants, a heavy white sweater, and black flats. I cringed. Jesus. This girl definitely had assets—somewhere. Her clothing was obviously sizes too big, and she wore no makeup and—holy mother of pearl—she had no jewelry on.

Her eyes slanted as she caught me staring.

“Hi. Want to join us for an intellectual round of quarters?” I asked, winking.

She gave me the onceover and appeared unsure of my real motives. “Umm… I’ve never played. Sorry,” she murmured as she kept her head down.

I walked over to her. “Hey, no worries, sweetie. Quarters isn’t a game of aptitude; it’s more like line of sight. Think of it as horseshoes for alcoholics. By the way, I’m Weezie, and I like penis.”

She looked shocked. I mean her cheeks went bright red and she seemed to allow the wall she was leaning against to swallow her. “I thought I’d get that out in the open. I’m extremely candid. I’m a no-holds-barred kind of gal. Come play with me. I need an ally against these perverts,” I said as I noticed her body language begin to relax. “Come on. What’s your name?” I asked, grabbing her hand.

“Haven. Haven Wells.”

We ended up playing sixteen rounds of quarters.

I didn’t really like beer. It was an acquired taste. And I hadn’t acquired it yet. Haven agreed, even if she never said a word. The squishy look on her face every time she had to drink told me everything. By the end of the night, I was relatively buzzed, and she had a slight wobble to her walk.

The guy I’d chosen for the evening was nice enough to go with us when I walked Haven back to her dorm. She lived on the other side of the campus, and I heard her mumble something about her roommate being Satan’s whore. Once we got her settled into her room, I went with Jeff—the flavor of the evening. He spent a good portion of the night begging to get into my pants. Once I had his dick in my mouth, he settled down.

It’s amazing what sucking cock can achieve. It’s like a Xanax for the male sex drive. Oh, their dick stays hard—how could it not in my mouth—but the rest of their body relaxes. Well, until they come. Then it’s like Mt. Vesuvius—an eruption on a historic scale.

Haven
and I became good friends. Eventually besties. Even though she was younger, she had a maturity about her. She had taken her SATs and gotten early admittance to college because she was smart. She’d come from a small Colorado town. Ironically, probably the only two virgins in this school had found each other. Within one month of that frat party, she became my roommate. We fit together well. Except for my constant oral adventures. She absolutely hated when I would go into detail about my nightly escapades. She was hilarious. Every time I mentioned the words cock sucking or blowjob, I swear that girl would blush to her roots. Her fingers would go directly into both ears, and all I could hear was, “La-la-la,” as she tried to expel the images from her head and the words from her ears.

We finally made an agreement. Oral sex from here on would never be referred to as cock sucking, a blowjob, a hummer, skin flute, deep throating, or even fellatio. It would be forever known as a puff chore. I was okay with that. Anything to make my BFF comfortable. Of course, I would NEVER repeat that word ever. To a single man. And I tried not to even let it cross my mind while I was doing it. I always ended up giggling, which men loved. The vibration I created always made their bodies shudder against mine. It was exhilarating the authority I had with just my mouth and tongue.

Haven was an odd creature. Extremely pretty but quiet, reserved, and virginal. I still had my V-card, but at least I had sexual experience. A ton of it. She’d only kissed two men in her life and virtually had no other knowledge. Oh, she was intelligent when it came to current events. But street smarts—forget it. She could’ve been a hot librarian, but she wanted to be a writer or work in publishing. My roommate loved to read. And from what I could tell, most of it was all smut. I’d been looking for aspirin one afternoon when I flipped open one of her books. Good God, it was set a trillion years ago, and the sexual language, well, that by definition was fucking hilarious. Actually, I could see why women read this shit; it kind of turned you on. Not me. I needed my balls and cock actually attached to a man, not a page.

My roomie had a vibrator. Not too much shocked me, but when I found the egg-shaped phallus—my jaw dropped. Haven had issues, but she also had carnal desires. She just needed coaxing out of her shell. Normally, I wouldn’t bother since I had a tight schedule between school and my extracurricular activities. I liked college. I enjoyed studying, mainly business. True, I didn’t have to work and most likely would never have to. My trust fund would kick in soon, and of course, my beloved parents had high hopes I would meet my prince at college, marry, and have babies. Just the thought made me break out in cold sweats. But the icing on top was having Haven. I’d never really had a best girlfriend. In high school, I’d always had friends that were girls. Brandi and I had been close, but we never shared much aside from sex tips.

I spent my first year trying to alter Haven’s appearance. I knew there had to be a smexy—smart and sexy—girl underneath that atrocious wardrobe. She actually dressed worse than I did in high school. Someone helped me, so now it was my turn to pay it forward. My bestie didn’t want to put her goods on display. When I finally saw her in a pair of leggings and a tight knit sweater, I almost passed out. My roomie had tits, bigger than mine. I introduced her to cosmetics and jewelry. I told her those two items would change everything. Haven was more interested in her classes and reading than partying. Which was a shame because sometimes I could have used a “wing woman.”

I met Harold in one of my business courses. He was well dressed, well mannered, and smelled good. The only reason I didn’t ask him out was because he looked a little to cut and dry for me, but for Haven, he was perfect. It took some convincing, but she finally agreed to meet him. I think the fact that he was a reader cinched the deal. I could only imagine how the date would go. I had high hopes for her coming home deflowered, but witnessing her when he came to the door—zero chemistry between those two. I’d even “undressed” her appropriately for a first date.

“I can’t wear that. Are you crazy, Weezie? That top looks ten sizes too small,” Haven yelped, rolling her eyes.

“It’s actually two sizes smaller, and that’s the point. Makes the
girls
look huge. Just remember, you never get a second chance to make a first impression,” I quipped.

“And that impression should be slut queen from whore central?”

I chuckled. Only she would be convinced a short skirt and tight shirt would make her look like a whore. “Hey, watch it! Those are my clothes you’re talking about.”

“I rest my case,” she replied as she shook her head. “I can’t wear this. Crap, I’ll look like a hooker.”

“Well, fuck me. In less than sixty seconds, you’ve referred to me as a slut, a whore, and now a hooker.” I chuckled. “Exactly how am I supposed to take that, Haven?”

“You know what I meant, and by the way, if the shoe fits—”

I wagged my finger in front of her face. “Hold that thought. Your date is here. And put the hooker shirt back on,” I said as I shoved her into the bathroom, tossing the shirt in her face. I could hear her huffing and puffing as I closed the door.

I went to let Harold in. I scanned him up and down. He looked different. There was something off about him. Fuck. So maybe Haven wouldn’t notice. She had no experience in dating, and besides, they’d probably talk about books all night. No use waving a red flag in her face. Besides, tonight would be educational for her.

While Haven and Harold went on their date, I planned to watch some television, consume a lovely pint of Ben & Jerry’s, and get to bed early.

It was almost nine when someone knocked at the door.

Joey Miles. The walking, talking icon of the lacrosse team. Damn, he was pretty, even wearing a multicolored cast on his right arm. I’d heard he fell while skiing and broke it. Poor baby… Kissing it would certainly make it feel better, if not for him, for me. So here he stood, with me in a tank top, braless, and baggy sweatpants carrying a bowl of Cherry Garcia. Why was he here? We didn’t run in the same circles. I mean, yeah, I knew who he was. Who didn’t?

“So you gonna invite me in, Red?” he asked in the sexiest, deepest voice I’d ever heard. I’m sure my ice cream began to melt just having him so close.

“Umm… yeah, I guess so. Do I know you?” I asked, attempting to be coy. Not one of my better attributes.

He squeezed past me as I opened the door farther. Holy crap, he was hard. I felt the size and it’s thickness as he passed me. I could feel the heat radiating from his package. I put the bowl of ice cream on the table by the door because I suddenly craved something else.

I knew why he was here. I wasn’t incensed by it. How could anyone be upset with Joey Miles? God made perfection. Tall, lean, and a smile that would make any girl drop her panties—except me. I wasn’t interested in him that way. I had no intention of letting him get frisky with that part of my anatomy… especially right now. I heard him bite back a soft groan as he sat on the sofa. I noticed he beckoned me to sit beside him.
Oh, he wants me close.
He shifted his body and tugged on the front of his jeans, making his intentions obvious as I sat down.

“Are you in pain?” I asked, grinning as I stared at the buttons on his jeans.

“Among other things,” he replied as his eyes went to his crotch.

We both stared at his full-blown erection. It was an encouraging sight. I pursed my lips together as I closed my eyes. Men had no idea what giving a blowjob did to me. It bordered on ecstasy.

I didn’t know if I’d ever had an orgasm. I had nothing to compare it with. The books I’d read explained that vaginal fucking wasn’t necessary for one. Actual orgasm could be achieved sans a cock and could be induced in variable ways, including fingers, tongue, lips, and many other things. When I gave head, my body became tight like a bow and it felt like electrical current buzzing through me. There were moments I felt tiny shocks going through my body. It reminded me of a hot, dry summer day when the air made everything you touched crackle. Only these electrical impulses made me feel exquisitely damp between my legs. I could feel my sex expand and contract the longer I sucked and the deeper his cock went into my throat.

So it was basically a win-win. We both got what we wanted. I always allowed them to come in my mouth, although I’d had a few that preferred my boobs. They’d joked about it being a pearl necklace. But I loved when they released in my mouth. I’d learned how to enjoy the taste and texture. It wasn’t an act for me. I wouldn’t know how to fake an orgasm anyway. I just did what came natural to me.

My favorite thing was skimming the pad of my thumb along their length, feeling the weight of their balls in the palm of my hand, and sweeping my tongue across the crown, catching that first clear droplet of precum. I felt powerful watching their body shake and become taut as I grazed my teeth along their cock, threatening to bite down. Right before they thrust into my mouth, ramming their cock so deep in my throat it bordered on suffocation, I sensed their climax and it spilled from my lips. Most of the time, I tried to swallow all of it. But there were some that produced an overabundant amount. I could only ingest so much. Still, I was an expert in the field and evidently a legend around campus. This was probably the only reason the hottest player on the lacrosse team was sitting on my sofa, sporting a ferocious hard-on.

“Should I take care of that for you?” I murmured as I trailed my fingers across his rigid cock.

“Fuck.” The word blew out his lips more like a moan than an actual comment.

My sentiments exactly. Only I planned to do the fucking with my mouth. I scooted closer to him and fit my hand tightly between the crease of his legs. I let out a sigh as I swept my palm along his thighs. Damn, but he was muscular. I guess you had to be in order to play the sport he did. I flicked open one of his jean buttons. His eyebrows shot up as he smiled questionably. I had some male friends who’d perfected the art of unhooking a bra with a thumb and index finger. I, on the other hand, could tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue, and I could seriously deep throat a banana. Plus, I was a virtuoso at opening buttons on jeans with one finger. You had to know your craft. I was a genius at the art of seduction. Not bad for a virgin.

Was I actually a virgin? Because I still had a hymen? I’d read many pamphlets, most of them claiming
you are indeed having sex, even if it’s only oral.
I’d blown more men than most of my girlfriends had slept with. I wasn’t sure how to label myself. No one actually knew about my V-card status. Well, except Haven and only because we both shared the same affliction. Almost everyone I’d blown had told his friends we’d fucked. I guess it would look bad for their street cred if they hadn’t completed the deed. Evidently, I was a great lay. Who knew?

I quietly giggled to myself.

I popped the rest of Joey’s buttons and pulled out an adequate-sized dick. I’d seen bigger, but they didn’t belong to one of the sexiest men on campus. I sighed as I swept my tongue across the crown.

“Oh man. Wow. Damn. Baby, that feels good.” He groaned as he wrapped his uninjured hand around my hair.

“I haven’t even started yet,” I said, pausing as I looked up at him. “Can you take off your shirt?” I asked sheepishly. I wanted to rest my head against that six-pack. Suddenly, he pushed me up and away.
What the hell?

He stood and pulled his shirt over his head, and then he kicked off his shoes along with his jeans. I swear I was fucking salivating. His body was a masterpiece. Every single inch of him was flawless, ripped from stern to stem. Muscle packed on top of muscle. His physique wasn’t body builder big, just lean and cut. His innie belly button sat snugly right above his indented V. And I had vastly underrated the size of his cock, because with him naked, it looked much larger and currently was pointing west—right at me.

Joey pulled me off the sofa and forced me to my knees. Oh, he was one of
those
. Domineering and controlling.

I grasped his cock firmly and began stroking it as I nibbled across the head. His moans and groans motivated me. Once I began tracing my tongue around his sack, I knew he was lost. I felt his balls scrunch up and get rigid, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before he lost his load. College and high school boys had that in common. I could go for thirty minutes at least until my jaw began to ache. If they were tiny, I could squeeze out an hour. If they were man-meat, sometimes fifteen minutes. There were instances I barely got started and they would come. I haven’t a clue why they called the act foreplay. To me, once they came, my job was complete. It was over. Finished. At least I was.