On the tip of my tongue

By C.A. Cruz

Matthew is your everyday college student except for two little things: he’s addicted to cunnilingus and he can make a woman orgasm in less than a minute. He thinks his life is under control, but when he falls in love with a cam-girl, he must face the fact that when it comes to relationships, he needs to know a lot more than how to get her off.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.A. Cruz
• Release date: Jul 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370882892

C.A. Cruz

C.A. Cruz was born in Puerto Rico. Loves reading, writing and pretending to know about film and photography.

Book preview

154

On the tip of my tongue

By

C.A. Cruz

Copyright © 2016 C.A. Cruz

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. The names, places, stories, brands, or situations contained in this story are a representation of the author’s imagination and hold no truth in the world outside of this story. Any similarities are purely coincidental and not intended by the author of this story.

Chapter 1:

It all started when I was eight years old. I was awoken around midnight by the sound of a loud conversation. My dad had his work friends over because there was a major boxing match that night. They always had problems controlling the volume of their voices, even more so after they’d been drinking. I crack my bedroom door open and make my way through the second floor. I hear whispers coming from the bathroom, but I can’t tell what they’re saying or who is in there. The hallway was dark and the carpeted floor muffled my footsteps as I made my way down the stairs.

The only source of light was our sixty-inch television, cloaking everything in front of it in a bluish hue. I made my way to the kitchen and observed as my father and his friends carried their conversation. Our living room was composed of a small coffee table our neighbor had given us before he moved out, and a set of black and gray sofa, loveseat and recliner. The living room floor was filled with empty beer cans, broken potato chips and a few half-eaten bags of popcorn. The air was filled with cigar smoke. On top of the coffee table, there were six beer cans and six plates of food, but only five people were present.

Sometimes I was allowed to stay with them past my bedtime and listen to their conversations. Most of the time they just yelled sports gibberish I couldn’t understand. But as it got later into the night, their conversations always took a sexual tone. This night was not an exception.

One of my dad’s friend takes a sip from his beer and puts it down. He adjusts his red shirt and looks at the group of friends who were looking at the fight.

When was the last time you guys ate out your wives? the red shirt guy asks.

Come on man, don’t start with this shit, the man in green answers.

I’m not even married, the striped shirt man says.

Well, when you take a girl home. Do you eat her out or not? the red shirt man asks the striped shirt man directly.

I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this conversation, the green shirt man says.

We’re all friends here, my dad says, It’s not like we don’t trust each other.

No, it’s not that I don’t trust you guys. It’s just that I know all of your wives and I don’t want to think about you licking them. The thought just makes my skin crawl, The green shirt man says.

Please, don’t be such a prude, the red shirt man says. It’s not like any of us has never done it. He stops for a moment and looks around the room. We’ve all done it at least once, right? So, are you guys gonna answer the question or not? the red shirt guy says. When was the last time you guys ate a woman out?

Fine, whatever, he sighs. The last time I ate her out was on her birthday, the green shirt man says. You happy now?

When was that? my dad asks.

Around four months ago, he answers.

Everyone nods and they move on to the striped shirt man.

Last time I ate a girl out was two months ago. I’d do it more often if I had a girl who who’d let me do it all the time, the striped shirt man says.

So you like doing it? the red shirt man says.

Yeah, I like some foreplay here and there. Eating a girl out turns us both on. It’s a win-win, the striped shirt man says.

I’m glad I’m not the only one! the red shirt man says. I love eating women out. But my wife doesn’t like it as much as I do. So she only lets me do it every now and then. It’s frustrating. If it was up to me, I would be eating her out all day, every day.

My dad looks at them.

What? Why are you looking at me like that? the red shirt man says.

You like it?

Of course. What’s not to like? the red shirt man says.

Nah, nothing. Never mind. I just… I don’t know… he rests his back on the sofa and throws his arms up. I find it disgusting, ok? There, I said it. I haven’t eaten my wife out since our honeymoon seven years ago. my dad says.

What? all men say.

That’s impossible. Not even on her birthday? the green shirt guy says.

I’m serious. My mouth hasn’t gone down there since our honeymoon. It just isn’t for me, ok? I tried it once and I hated it.

When was the last time she gave you a blowjob? the striped shirt man asks.

My dad remains silent for a moment. Last week, before I went to work, he answers.

Oh, so she can blow you, but you can’t lick her? the red shirt man says. That’s just selfish.

Whatever, just forget it. my dad says. What about you, Steven? Care to join the damn conversation? he says to a yellow shirt man who has been silent the whole time.

Steven drinks some beer and grabs a handful of potato chips, ignoring the question.

I forgot he was there, the green shirt man says.

That’s fine. Everyone forgets he’s there all the time at work, the red shirt man says.

They all laugh and Steven continues watching the boxing match without saying anything.

Hey, where the hell is Dylan? my dad says pointing at the empty seat at the sofa. His food and beer are gonna spoil.

He’s been in the bathroom for like thirty minutes now, the red shirt man looks at his watch.

I’ll get us more beer, my dad says.

I panic. My dad stands up from the recliner and makes his way toward the kitchen. I hide beside the refrigerator, hoping he is drunk enough for me to go unnoticed. He enters the kitchen and opens both of the refrigerator doors. The doors cover me. I can smell the alcohol and cigar smoke in his breath. He grabs the six pack and closes the door. Dust flies in the air and gets into my nose. I pinch it, but I can’t help but sneeze. My dad turns around and looks at me.

Matthew, he says to me. Ain’t it past your bedtime? How long have you been standing there?

You guys woke me up, I tell him. I couldn’t sleep with all your shouting.

I’m sorry, buddy. Let’s make a deal. I won’t tell mom you were up past your bedtime if you don’t tell mom about the conversation you just heard.

I nod.

Go to bed. I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes in the morning.

I make my way up the stairs and up to my bedroom door. The whispers from the bathroom have now turned into muffled moans. I walk toward the bathroom door and turn the doorknob. The door cracks open a couple of inches. I gasp. My mother rests her back against the wall as a black shirt man kneels underneath her. She bites a towel with her eyes closed trying her hardest not to scream as the man buries his head between her thighs underneath her nightgown. She opens her mouth and drops the towel to the floor. Her head shifts toward my direction and she opens her eyes to see me looking at her through the crack on the door. After the surprise wore off, she placed her index finger on top of her lips and made a shushing sound. She waves me away with her left hand and I close the door.

To this day, I still remember the look on my mother’s face. She seemed so happy even though she knew she was doing something wrong. I’ve never seen her happier. From that moment on, my only dream in life was to someday help women achieve that level of happiness. As I grew older, I realized sex was the most basic form of human nature. The craving we have for sex is as normal as the cravings we have for food. And I wanted a taste for myself.

When I was ten years old, my curiosity was overpowering me. My parents both worked until 3:30pm, and school would end at 2:15pm, so every day I had an hour and a half to myself before my parents picked me up, sometimes two hours if there was traffic. I decided I would take that time to learn as much as I could about sex. After school, I went into the public library that was located next to it. I read about the female genitalia; the vulva, as most books called it. After skimming through the anatomy books, I realized they didn’t tell me what I wanted to know. They were cold and technical. While knowing the names and the purpose of each part of the vulva was useful, I was more interested in the fun stuff.

After learning how to delete internet history, I began frequenting sex forums for women. I read some of my mom’s magazines and came up with the idea of hiding behind a fictional frustrated wife looking to spice things up. I told them a story of how I was brought up in a catholic environment and the thought of having an orgasm had me bathing in the flames of hell. The women of the forum were welcoming and didn’t find any shame in sharing their likes and dislikes, their fantasies and their most insatiable desires. I was surprised they felt comfortable enough to answer all the questions I had. That forum became my favorite playground. I was there every day from 10pm to midnight and sometimes even one in the morning, depending on whether or not my parents were close to catching me.

Some of the women’s stories were exciting. At that age, even the underwear section at