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past year, and he'd fucked more than one.

It took a while for Rita to get Frankie to come around to pussy eating. To be honest, it took a couple of weeks of blowjobs to convince him.

He'd try to persuade high school girls to suck his cock. They had no interest: fucking, yes; sucking, no way. Not Rita Scheinbaum. The truth was that if there was an International Blowjob Contest, Rita would be a finalist, even at her age.

Frankie Horton had over seven inches of thick black meat. For Rita, easy-peasy.

It was those blowjobs that encouraged him to try pussy eating. With Rita Scheinbaum's guidance, after all she was a teacher, by the time he graduated, he was, in her words, "Coach, his tongue work is almost as good as yours. Which reminds me, can you get away from your wife for a few hours? I owe you for bringing Frankie to my bed."

"Rita, I think by ‘owe you,' you mean blowjob. I'll find away."

College basketball demonstrated that Frankie was ready for bigger things. He was usually the best player on the court. After one year of college, he was drafted by the NBA. College had been everything Coach Tallon and Mrs. Scheinbaum said. Girls were all over him. They wanted to fuck him; some might have had the ulterior motive of getting pregnant, others just wanted to brag that they'd fucked a future NBA star. Still others just liked to fuck[ liked to fuck his big cock.

Frankie was a reluctant fuck; he insisted they suck his cock. They were hesitant, but as Rita told him, "Frankie, after your tongue does their pussy, they'll beg you to let them put your cock in their mouth. Promise."

She wasn't wrong.

To his teammates, coaches and the media, he was an enigma. Two or three times, during the college basketball season when the team had a few days off, he'd disappear. He'd miss classes, miss practices, but never games. He told the coach he just needed to get away to think about his future.

Where was he?

The town where he went to high school was less than a hundred miles away. One day he got a call, "Frankie, it's Mrs. Scheinbaum. It's been awhile; do you need a refresher course?"

He didn't but this was Rita Scheinbaum, not some ditzy college girl. She drove to a non-descript motel not far from campus. There she sucked and sucked. "Frankie, you have the biggest, hardest, most beautiful cock ever," she praised it, as she licked his now exposed cockhead. "Thank you for letting me enjoy it in my mouth."

"Mrs. Scheinbaum, you know I never get enough of your pussy. I've been looking forward to eating it since you called."

They spent two, sometimes three days together. Sometimes, she was on her knees, and sometimes Frankie was.

He'd reappear on campus the morning of a game, and have one of the best games of his career. It convinced him that pussy juice energized him: better than Red Bull; he smiled, thinking of Mrs. Scheinbaum's pussy. If her old pussy did that, imagine what college pussy could do.

It was at an awards ceremony at the end of his second professional year where he met Althea. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen; she thought that there couldn't be a better pussy eater in the whole world.

When she was drunk, she'd proclaim to anyone within earshot that Frankie's tongue was why she married him.

Of course, Frankie was proud of that, but better yet, numerous women, too numerous to count, strongly suggested to him, that their pussy would love to confirm Althea's proclamation.

Frankie couldn't resist. It didn't affect his play in the NBA. In fact, he claimed that just like in college, pussy juice was performance enhancing. "Frankie, you played fantastic tonight," some woman would tell him as she got on her knees to help him relax after a game. It could have been a black woman, white woman, young woman or a woman Mrs. Scheinbaum's age. Not only did race and age not matter. As with Rita Scheinbaum, looks didn't matter either. Pussy was pussy.

"It was eating your sweet pussy last night that energized me."

It all came crashing down when his left knee and ankle collapsed as he went up for a dunk. It happened just before he was about to sign a contract worth over a hundred million dollars. Worse, the injury was so severe that doctors feared they might have to amputate.

They didn't, but he never played again and that's how he got into coaching. And that's how he came to owe Pavel Provorov a favor.

Pavel was raw and awkward, but he was over 7 feet tall, which was why he was drafted by Boston. As an assistant, Frankie's job was to mold him into an NBA basketball player. The team gave him four years.

Three years after Pavel came to the United States, he was an All-Star, all thanks to Frankie's relentless coaching. The league noticed, and it was common knowledge that the next time there was a head coaching opening, Frankie would be high on the list.

As an assistant coach, he made over $300,000. As a head coach, he'd sign a four-year contract guaranteeing him at least $25 million. Yes, he owed Pavel Provorov. If that meant fucking Maria Constantinova, so be it.

It didn't quite work out like that.

Rita Scheinbaum had been in her fifties when Frankie Horton was eighteen. Maria Constantinova was in her late forties, except now Frankie was forty. There was another difference, Rita was a short, round, unattractive woman, except and by her own admission, had his cock in her mouth. Maria was a tall blonde with big saggy breasts. In her youth, she was beautiful.

Frankie thought for her age she wasn't bad looking; it helped that she was blonde. That was another thing. Most of the girls in high school and college he'd done were black, but there'd been some white girls who had a thing for black cock.

Once he got to the NBA, there were all kinds of women available. Frankie thought there was nothing better than sticking his face in a blonde bush. Most blondes had a light brown bush, but there were some with a bush so blonde, it was almost white. Those women seemed to have the pinkest pussies.

That's what he found when he spread Maria Constantinova's legs. "You are lovely." Like a lot of eastern European women at the time, she did little grooming. He was faced with a huge blonde bush.

‘Thank you, Frankie. I suppose a man your age has seen many pussies. I'm so happy you think I'm, what did you call it ‘lovely?'

"Not all that many," he lied. "And to be honest, I'm much more interested in your taste."

The next hour was the best Maria could remember. There was no need to patiently explain to Frankie where to put his tongue. No reason to let him get comfortable with her fragrance and taste.

There was an orgasm, then another and another. After the second, Maria involuntarily began to fuck Frankie's face. "Yeah, oh yeah, Frankie. Please let me suck your cock. Let me please you like you please me."

"You want to service my black cock like I'm servicing your lovely pussy, don't you?" He mumbled. "Service," that's Rita Scheinbaum called it. As in "Frankie, you need to chill out after the game, let me service your big cock."

"Please, but not just yet. Oh God, I'm cumming again. Frankie, oh God, I'm cumming."

When she initially recovered from her orgasmic high, Maria insisted again on sucking his cock. This time Frankie let her, and rolled on his back.

Mrs. Scheinbaum had been without question the greatest cocksucker. Now, Maria Constantinova was rivalling her. No doubt the woman could suck. Up and down, up and down. It was as if she was hungry for cock; as if she hadn't sucked cock in decades.

The truth was that earlier this week, she'd spent hours sucking young Derek's cock. In addition, she'd walked over to the administration building where she entered Dr. McKerran's office, closed and locked his door, then made herself comfortable on her knees under his desk where she spent the next hour in cocksucking ecstasy.

It was just Maria being Maria.

For the next few months, Frankie and Maria saw each other two or three times a week. "Frankie, the door will be unlocked. I'll be waiting in bed for you."

She was waiting naked with her legs spread. That golden bush awaiting his face. He didn't disappoint.

Other times, she met him at her front door. As soon as she closed the door, she was on her knees.

It didn't really end; it just went in a different direction.

TO BE CONTINUED

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