Now That’s Salty Popcorn!

If you know anything about my sexual history you know one thing. I love to give blowjobs. I literally have no idea why that is. I know a lot of girls could take it or leave it. And some, for reasons known only to them, just won’t do it. But I can’t imagine going more than a couple of days without having someone’s little-man wet-sneeze on my tonsils.

I used to laugh when my obviously feminist guidance counselor asked me what I would do if I had a billion dollars and didn’t have to work. I knew she was trying to figure out what I should do for a living. I thought that was hilarious because, by her logic, I should be a kept woman or standing on a street corner in a pair of knee pads. “Oh, I don’t know.. write?” I would reply. She seemed satisfied with my response and I tried not to snort-laugh, imagining myself as the 21st century “Little Oral Annie”, accepting an AVN award and acknowledging her in an acceptance speech.

As it turns out. Sucking cock isn’t just a fun way to pass the time. It can be used as a weapon. If you’re familiar with my.. history.. it may seem like I’ve only ever been with old men. But, sadly, this isn’t the case. I’ve dated a couple of guys my age and I didn’t really care for the experience. “Experience” being the key word here. Guys my age have none. No experience and no appreciation. I’ll explain what I mean.

The last time I dated someone close to my age I decided.. surprise surprise.. that I’d give him head. Good times, right? About 2 minutes in I looked up at him. And he was texting someone. Texting. While his fireman went through the car wash. I know, right? That was the last straw. I promptly put my clothes back on and left. I dropped his stuff off at the front door the next day and blocked his number. That was the end of that relationship.

While it was my last, this wasn’t the first boyfriend I had that I could have gone to school with. There was one before him and he was a serious asshole. Let’s pretend his name is “Vince”. Ya’ know. In case he finds this and reads it. I don’t want angry texts at 2 in the morning. Hi “Vince”! Oh sure, he was sweet at first. And I’m sure he thought “sweet” was the way to go. But I sensed that he wasn’t so sweet once you got to know him. Which is why I gave him the time of day to begin with. Save the sweet for your coffee, dude. And while he was truly a jerk, once you got to know him. There’s such a thing as “too much of a good thing”. And this was the case with Vince.

Vince was the kind of guy who didn’t care if you got off. He’d nut on your belly then literally jump up and run to the shower. If you tried to say something sexy he would literally groan and tell you to shut up and keep sucking. As if that were physically possible.

After a while Vince’s novelty wore off and I was over it. The only time I ever saw any kind of genuine emotion from him is when I broke up with him. He actually cried. We had been dating for 6 weeks. And he cried when I told him it was over. I felt a little bad for him until, in between sobs, he started telling me I was an ugly whore. I spit in his face and walked away. I was done. Apparently, he was not.

Vince spent the next couple of weeks bad-mouthing me to anyone who would listen. I got at least two reports a day from friends of mine.. and his.. that he wouldn’t stop running me down to anyone who would listen. Which wasn’t very many people. But one did. One person listened. My now ex best friend, “Lorry”. Lorry felt bad for him. I wondered why I hadn’t heard from her for a couple of days. She had been avoiding my calls and my texts. And then I saw it. The two of them making out at his car outside of a local burger place. My final text to her was “that’s not sugar, honey. It’s saccharin. And it won’t last”. Of course, she ignored me.

A few weeks passed and I moved on with my life. I had heard all about how the two of them were now bad mouthing me but I didn’t care. I washed my hands of them.

Now.. my home town doesn’t have much going for it but it does have a movie theater and I decided to go see a movie one night. Just some time by myself. Of course nothing great was playing. I settled on some comic film and stood in line waiting for bad popcorn and a five gallon bucket of carbonated dishwater.

“Zoey… ZOEY..” I heard from behind me. I turned slightly and recognized Vince’s fake “sorry” face halfway down the line. “Not interested” I shot back. “Whatever it is tell it to Lorry. You deserve each other.” “Babe.. she dumped me.” I ignored him. I really didn’t care. I was more interested in a bag of oily butter-flavored hulls than I was his sob story.

“Zoey!” he repeated a few more times until I heard “would you just shut up already? Clearly she doesn’t want to talk to you!” I turned to see a tall stocky man in a cowboy hat shutting Vince’s shit down on my behalf. Vince, of course, went on the offensive. “Fuck you dude! This is none of your business, grandpa! Tell this shit-kicker, Zoey!”. I turned to him and offered, “sorry, I’m with ‘Wyatt Earp’ on this one”. “Oh, what, like he’s your date?” “Maybe he is” I shot back.

I bent my arm at the elbow and smiled at Wyatt. He stepped forward and hooked his arm through mine. Vince was livid. He immediately snapped a picture of us with his phone. Presumably to shame me in some way. I decided to have fun with it and tapped my new date on the shoulder, motioning him closer. I waited until I knew Vince was staring and I kissed him. The folks in line clapped, obviously annoyed by my obnoxious ex boyfriend.

Vince sulked away for the time being. But he turned up again in the same movie I (and, luckily, my cowboy) had chosen. I got up and walked over to Wyatt who smiled and motioned for me to sit next to him. I laid my head on his shoulder and whispered a quiet “thank you”. Wyatt just put his arm around me and patted my shoulder.

We got through the majority of the film without further interruption. But, of course, boys will be boys. Random “whore” comments were being coughed by an “anonymous” movie goer close by. I pressed into Wyatt more closely and ignored it. Moments later an usher came and removed Vince from the theater.

Wyatt whispered that he was gone and I could head back to my seat if I wanted to. I decided against that. Instead I whispered back. “Is there any way I can say thank you?” and slid my hand into his lap. “You don’t have to.. don’t.. um.. have..” was all he got out. I kept massaging him as he stuttered. His gentlemanly resolve faded as his bulge grew. I pointed to his jacket and whispered “I need that”.

Wyatt didn’t take very long at all. If you ask me he hadn’t had an orgasm in weeks. I had only been bobbing on his cock for about 5 minutes when the floodgate broke and he washed away the taste of bad popcorn.

It’s a good thing too. Because as the last drop spilled into my mouth I heard the unmistakable sound of end credit music. Wyatt quickly zipped up as I pulled his jacket off my head and shot back into my seat. I went to swallow but something told me not to. Not just yet.

I took Wyatt’s hand and we exited the theater. As I predicted, there stood Vince. Ready to snap another picture of me holding hands with the cowboy. I walked right up to his phone and smiled. Vince raised an eyebrow, confused. I opened my mouth and watched the revulsion spread across his face. There was Wyatt’s fresh load. Sitting right there on my tongue. Vince’s face turned green.

I tilted my head back dramatically and gulped. Rubbing my tummy in a circular motion for effect. Wyatt immediately started laughing and offered me a swig of his soda. “No thanks, babe” I cooed. “I wanna savor this”. Vince stood speechless against the wall as we strolled away.

As we journeyed into the parking lot Wyatt started to apologize for cumming in my mouth, as if this bothered me. I told him he could make it up to me by taking me home with him and hooking me up with seconds. The look on Vince’s face as I followed Wyatt’s car out of the lot was truly a thing of beauty.

I love cowboys.