John Yohe

And Tell Me That You Love Me

—Why don’t women want to sit on guys’ faces?

—I don’t know, Jimmy,—I said, smiling and shaking my head. —I never really thought about it.

We were sitting at the bar, in the Nine Ball, a place a couple blocks down from the factory where I work. I’d just gotten off shift. Twelve hours again. They laid a bunch of people off, then started working the rest of us longer. Saves money that way.

Jimmy works at a tool-and-die place nearby. He’s a regular. Skinny, a little bit up grey starting to show in his hair. Always wears black Carhartt t-shirts. We’ve talked before, shot some pool, watched some games. He tends to attach to whoever is around and available, so sometimes we don’t talk for days. Which is fine. I just get tired, my feet aching from walking around on the cement floor all day. I don’t even know how he got on the subject. Something on his phone, I guess.

But he continued, —I mean, they like getting their pussies licked.

I nodded. —Yes. That’s true.

—So you’d think they’d want to be in the position, literally the position, to really be able to control that.

I thought about that, then added, —Sure.

—I mean, I think the idea of a woman wanting to sit on my face is hot, don’t you? he asked.

I said, —Yes. That is, on my face, not yours.

He nodded. —Right, that’s what I meant. A woman on each of our faces.

There was a pause. The bartender, Tammy, a gorgeous young woman, or younger than either of us anyway, with tattoos up each arm, who I think both of us were infatuated with, came by and refilled our beers. As she walked away we both stared at her ass. I said, —Maybe it’s that women don’t want to be in control during sex?

He nodded, musing. —Could be. I never thought of that. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I like being in control during sex, as much as the next guy.

I nodded quickly. —Me too.

—I mean, I like throwing a woman down on the bed and having my way with her as much as the next guy.

—Yes. Of course. Who doesn’t?

He leaned over to me, lowering his voice. —Have you ever had a woman sit on your face?

—Oh, once or twice.

—Did they enjoy it?

—I think so, yes. The second really did. I mean, she came.

—Are you sure?

—Well, pretty sure.

—Because sometimes they fake it.

—Yeah, I guess.

He kept his face close to mine. —So did they initiate it?

—Sitting on my face?

He kept staring, and nodded. —Yeah.

—Well, no. I asked them.

He leaned back, raising his voice. —You asked them? You gave them an option?!

Tammy looked over briefly.

—Well, no. I guess I told them, and they kind of agreed. I guess just to please me.

—More than once with each woman?


—You’d think since they liked it they would’ve wanted to do it again.

—Well, they weren’t girlfriends.

—Why didn’t you ever ask a girlfriend?

I shrugged. —I don’t know.

He sipped his beer. —Oh, I see.

—You do?

He nodded. —Yeah.

—Have you?

—Have I what?

—Had a woman do that?

He shook his head. —No. It’s one of my greatest regrets.

I hesitated. —Well, from my experience, I wasn’t exactly ready to go afterwards.

—You mean fucking?

—Yeah. I mean, it kind of takes up all your attention, so you can’t really stay, you know—




He thought about that for a second. —Maybe that’s why women don’t like it.


—Because they know. They know if they indulge in the lesser pleasure of pussylicking, that they may not be able to get the greater pleasure of a cock inside their pussy.

I shrugged. —Could be. I guess. I mean, that’s me. Maybe some other guy could stay hard.

He shook his head. —No, I think you’re pretty normal.

—Thank you.

He stared at the bar mirror, eyes becoming unfocused. —It’s just, you know, the sensation.

—The sensation?

—Of being surrounded.


—And her in control. Like you’re trapped and you have to do a good job or else.

I finished off my beer, got out my wallet and put some money down. —I gotta go Jimmy.

He nodded. —Yeah. Sorry. Got carried away there.

—It’s ok Jimmy, I understand.

I stood up, putting my wallet away. Tammy walked by, grabbing the money, and I waved for her to keep the change. She smiled.

Jimmy turned in his stool. —Do you have a girlfriend right now?

—No. Do you?

—No. Is there something wrong with us?

—No. Of course not.

—Oh. Ok.

He turned back to staring in the mirror, sipping his beer. I said goodbye and left. Outside, the sky was dark and the air cool and I almost forgot where my car was.

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