Oral Fixation

"In our culture,there are things we may or may not do with our mouths..."


When I was a little kid I sucked my thumb.

Oral fixation is a condition which causes certain people to always require stimulation of the mouth. The concept was coined by Sigmund Freud, probably during one of his cocaine highs. He thought that young infants get some sort of "orgasmic" pleasure from sucking, chewing, biting, etc., because that is what is most important in their lives at that point: nourishment through the mouth. Children who did not get enough stimulation were believed to later on develop oral fixation.
People with oral fixation can be identified because they are always eating, biting their nails, licking their lips, drinking, chewing the tips of their pencils, or making out. There are other "fixations", such as nasal fixations, which requires constant stimulation of the nasal area, usually by sticking coins up there, or drinking milk or rum through the nasal cavities. It is quite entertaining to be around a drunk person with a nasal fixation.


I no longer suck thumbs, I suck cocks.

The first time, for real.

Asleep in the back of the truck, warm in my Woods down sleeping bag. Red, puffy.

I get woken up because I am moving. That’s okay. Nice feeling of moving but warm and comfortable at the same time.

And then we stop. And the giant appears at the back of the truck . And looking at me. He is a big man with long hair on his head and some on his face too.

I sit up.

I am still in my sleeping bag.

He gingerly lowers the back gate of the truck and kneels in front of me. His hand can cover my entire head and neck. He unzips his pants and pushes into my mouth. I don’t breathe. I don’t stay there. I watch. I know him but I don’t because he is only familiar. I get hot. I want out of my sleeping bag but I can’t move right now. I see.

It gets fast and I get hotter. Things sparkle and crack. I continue to watch. I am glad to finally be free of the hot down sleeping bag but, dressed in panties, I know I might soon get cold. But I don’t. There are more sparks. And I try to see but everything becomes closely related tones of gray. I can still watch through my skin. I grow cold finally. The moving stops and I try to reach my sleeping bag but it is now lost.

I don't miss it but I miss being warm and all the speed was making me warm too.

First Blow

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