Paul was having misgivings about the girl he had picked up in the bar
on Chicago’s state street. At the moment his trousers and shorts were
around his ankles, his dress shirt was pulled up and he was reclining in
the girls couch. But something wasn’t quite right. He was beginning
to suspect that the she whose mouth was engulfing his cock was really a
he. Paul was in the bag thought, and after all ‘lips are lips.’

What ever the gender Paul was getting the blow-job of his life, she was
sucking his nuts, alternately with deep throating him. The drink she
had given him was beginning to have its effect also. ‘Male or female,
I’ll go back to the McCormick Place hotel with empty nuts.’ So he
relaxed and let nature take its course.

She took her time, almost 20 minutes to bring him to climax. When he
finally shot off, he bucked his hips high in the air; he thought the top
of his head was going to fly loose.