I asked Jon to tell me more about Carrie. The wind carried voices from the cafe brunchers onto our beach spot, but I could pull another towel over my head and listen only to him.
“Well, she said a lot of nice things about me— she’s... complimentary.”
“Like what?” I imagined what she might say— “Mister, you have a very nice cock.” That’s what I would say to Jeff if I’d just had a one night stand with him: nice cock, beautiful hair.
“She said... okay, this is embarrassing— she said, I was the best lover she’d ever had!”
“You’re kidding!“
“Yeah, incredible as it may seem...”
“You know I don’t mean— ”
We both buried our heads in the beach towel and laughed.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said, and nudged my crotch with his toe.
I sat up in the sand so I could see him better. We were both struggling with our straw hats in the wind.
I decided to speculate. “Maybe what our friend said about her being so sexually inexperienced is true.”
“But she’s thirty-two!”
“Thirty-two-year-old sex today is what sixteen-year-old sex was in our day— just creeping out of their egg.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“Yeah, well think about it— if she was holding out through high school, and then ‘playing it safe’ in college, that doesn’t leave a lot of time for sodomy and wasted nights.”
“That’s a shame... but then what about all those blow jobs she talked about? I guess it fits though, doesn’t it?— She’s afraid of everything else.
“Tell me that part again, about her first boyfriend.” I dug my toes into the sand until they hit the wet part.
“She said she just broke up with her first real boyfriend, and that when they got together, she promised him a thousand blow jobs. She got up to seven hundred and forty-nine in three years.”
“Seven hundred and forty-nine!"
"Yes!"
"Now that seems like a magic number. Like, we'll never forget it now, and we've only heard it once. But I don’t see how she managed to keep track... I mean, I tried to do that, when I was first fucking, but every time I went to bed with someone new, I’d change my idea about what good sex was, or what love was, and then my old system didn’t make any sense.”
“Well, maybe it’s easier with blow jobs, if that’s all you’re doing.”
“But she didn’t come, going down on you, did she?”
“No, of course not! It was hard for her to come, she kept trying to block me. She couldn’t believe I wouldn’t try to fuck her, trick her, and afterward she said she didn’t want to do that— and then when I went down on her, she didn’t think I really wanted to eat her— and she kept not believing, not believing, and all that made her orgasm remote.”
“I bet the women who actually get off giving head don't count the number... If you want to swallow cock all the time, if that makes you come, you aren’t competitive about it, you’re just hungry, right? I mean, who keeps track of how many times they eat their favorite meal?”
Jon dropped his voice. “She was kind of rare, you know— she swallowed everything, every drop...”
Continued in Mommy's Little Girl, "The Best She Ever Had"
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