Page 75 of About That Night

I’m actually watching a video on how to give a quality blowjob on my front porch because no one can sneak up behind me here, my back right up against the house. It also means that no one else can see the screen of my phone, which is necessary, because there is a woman deep-throating what seems to me like a substantial dick.

I say “seems to me” because how the hell would I know? I’ve only had sex twice, and the first time, I never even saw his dick. Actually, I didn’t really see Hank’s either. The room was filled with shadows.

Wow. That’s a sad little fact to consider. I’m puzzled about penis size.

At any rate, this one looks like a lot to swallow, because I know how I feel about anything touching my uvula. I also know that I struggle with taking more than the tip of a popsicle, so the verdict is that I’m probably in serious trouble.

Adjusting my earbud, I concentrate on what she’s saying. Maybe if I focus on the instructions instead of all that skin, I won’t freak out.

Except that I am. Freaking out. I’m also getting turned on, and I don’t know why. That isn’t part of the plan. This is supposed to be an educational outing on the internet, nothing more. This isn’t the time or place to slip into the shower and get some relief. Hank is coming over in twenty minutes to give me a cooking lesson.

Nevaeh took Josiah to Baton Rouge to visit Miss Loretta. He absolutely loves his surrogate great-grandmother, and he misses her. Until her stroke, she lived with us.

It’s just me, so I can’t really say who the hell would be sneaking up behind me, but if anyone comes up the driveway, I can close this video instantly. Initially, I tried to watch the video with the sound down, but that felt a bit like watching someone crochet and expecting to know how to do it. You need instructions.

But while the narrator is interjecting here and there, and at one point an arrow pops up and the video freezes so we can see the woman’s hands cupping his balls, mostly it’s a lot of moaning and groaning for the first minute or two.

Which is hot. Or is to someone like me, who sometimes gets aroused by a warm breeze in winter. Anytime the wind whistles through the tundra of my frozen sex life, I get a little hot and bothered.

I consider it a great editing job because they’re full-on having fun, which draws you in (no pun intended) and then she starts at the beginning. Enter penis. Enter woman’s mouth. Begin blowjob.

“What makes a blowjob so exciting is that a man can’t give it to himself,” the woman says. Her voice is cheerful and enthusiastic. The woman in the video identifies herself as Katrina.“He can attempt to replicate the warm sensation of skin with his hand and some lube, but his penis disappearing between a woman’s lips is a sensual and stunning work of art.”

The camera lifts to the man’s face, and he’s watching this stunning work of art closely, I have to admit.

“Your mouth provides the wetness. Your hands, the tightness. And you, the enthusiasm!” Katrina informs us.

I will never have her level of enthusiasm. My voice isn’t that high and chipper, and I’m not on cocaine. But I get her point. My biggest hangup is probably my grandmother’s voice in my head, which might require an exorcism to get rid of, but I’m working damn hard on banishing it. I do want to add this to my “pleasure arsenal,” as Katrina deems it.

This isn’t helping me, though. This all falls under the category of Obvious. What am I supposed to do with my hands and mouth?

I’m an excellent student, but I like detailed instructions. After she refers to it as a “blowie,” which makes me think of dolphins for some reason, I ditch Katrina and her perkiness and find a video from Dr. Something-or-Other, a licensed sex therapist. Bingo.

This is a blow-by-blow (dang, the puns come everywhere with blowjobs. Come. I can’t even handle it.) of how to take the penis into the mouth, which is exactly what I need.

Grab it at the base of the shaft with my index finger and thumb until they form a circle around his penis. Then slide my mouth over the tip, down the shaft, until my lips reach my fingers, being sure to generously leave saliva along the way. That doesn’t sound so difficult.

There are tips and tricks about moisture levels, gauging his response, and making sure you have a clear nasal airway. She also liberates me from the deep throat by deeming it an advanced technique to ease into if you want, but to remember that no dick is worth choking over.

Now that Dr. Licensed-Sex-Therapist has made me feel like less of an oral outcast, I return to Katrina’s video, which has better visual aids, less actual information. I’m ready to add the PowerPoint to the presentation, in practical terms.

If the opportunity ever presents itself, I will just jump in and go for it.

Which might be somewhere in the next decade.

I do not factor in the fact that, with my headphones in my ears, I can’t hear anyone approaching. I’m so immersed in watching a thick cock disappear between Katrina’s shiny and moist lips, all while picturing doing this to Hank, that I don’t hear a car pull up.

When Hank is suddenly standing in front of me, I almost jump out of my skin. I do actually drop my phone and let out a panicked scream.

He bends down to pick the phone up, and I lunge forward to get to it before him, positive the video is still playing. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear him. Now somehow I’m on my knees on the concrete porch, which hurts like a son of a bitch, and I don’t even have my phone. He has my phone.

I pop one of the headphones out of my ear.

“What are you doing?” Hank asks, sounding bewildered. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just, uh, was watching, uh, checking my bank account balance.”

“With your headphones on?”

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