Why I Am Not A Painter

Moans emerged among the panting.

“That’s it, that’s it,” I whispered, jutting my fingers steadily inside her.

I took a fistful of hair in my free hand. “Spread your legs,” I ordered. “I want to see under that skirt.”

Nicole opened her thighs, pushing the plaid mini skirt up on her hips.

“Good girl, good girl,” I commended, watching my middle fingers vanish into her. Her clit was plump. Her legs were still cold from the outdoors, even as her pale flesh grew rosy and flush.

My intercom rang.

I rested my fingers in her, and brushed the hair from her face. “Company.”

“Should I . . . ,” she began, disoriented by a sudden cessation of sensations. “I guess . . . the panties, right?”

“No panties,” I said, removing my fingers. “The skirt is sufficient.”

As I prepared for Nicole’s visit, I reflected on the fact that she would be giving me her first blowjob. That’s a memorable milestone. I thought it would be nice to give her something in return.

I pondered this, and was struck by an inspiration.

Among my readers and correspondents is a clever fellow who never fails to bring bonhomie to my inbox. He’s handsome, writes well, and lives nearby.

His flaw? He’s straight. He’s never fooled around with guys, not even with his friends, not even, you know, after too many beers, dude.

Such men are a dying breed.

I’m killing them as fast as I can.

Now, with Nicole in mind, I dropped him a line.

“How’s this scenario?” I posited. “If a cute and inexperienced young woman wanted to see two boys go at it, would you be willing to give your first blowjob? Please understand: you wouldn’t be fucking her. But you would certainly watch us fucking. And of course, I’d blow you. I think she might like that.”

He agreed that this was a novel opportunity to lose his regrettable—and inexcusable, really, in our enlightened age—virginity with men.

I told Nicole of my plan.

“Okay, now that is a salutary proposition,” she said. “A straight boy sucking dick is a fetish fantasy of mine.”

“Then I will make it so,” I pledged.

It was all in place. Nicole would have her fantasy, my straight boy would get some dick, and I would add another virgin blowjob to the quota of my birthday month.

Two virgin blowjobs in two days, no less.

It was a perfect plan, yet like many grand schemes, it was brought low by germs. The boy begged out at the last minute, having caught the flu.

Undaunted, I went back to work. As Nicole caught up on homework, I took my case to Craig’s List.

I have a lovely girl visiting. We had lined up a man to watch us go at it, but he got the flu.

We are looking for a guy who would like to watch us, and also blow me as she watches. She gave head for the first time last night, as it would be hot for her to see a guy give it a go.

She's nineteen, very cute, hourglass figure. You won't do her. Don’t try. Non negotiable.

Please send pics and notes—incomplete sentences won’t pass muster.

The responses came fast.

“Do you want to weigh in on this?” I asked Nicole. I had an instant battalion of straight recruits ready to suck cock for a pretty girl.

“Hmmm, no.” She looked up from a book and peered over her glasses. “I’m too indecisive. You can choose.”

“My favorite color is carte blanche,” I replied.

My palette was soon limited to a soccer player in a blue jersey, a green-eyed graduate student, and a man with coal black hair.

I sent each candidate a photograph of myself. I told each that he would not see a picture of her.

Of course, by this time I had amassed many photographs of Nicole. But I was adamant: the man I chose should be attracted to the scenario as opposed to the pretty girl. That had been enough for me—after all, Nicole and I had decided to meet based on words, not images—and that should be sufficient for any stranger I might select.

I lost the soccer player, presumably to the suspicion that I was misrepresenting the situation. Fair enough.

I liked the graduate student’s earnest responses. His eyes were dreamy, his lips kissable.

But the other man won out. He had a handsome photograph, but more importantly, he had enthusiasm.

I colored myself impressed, and gave him the green light.

We moved into the living room to await his knock.

I kissed Nicole, caressing the bare ass under her short skirt.

“Nervous?” I asked.

“No,” she replied. She was telling the truth. Her mind was on full alert.

The man knocked.

I opened the door.

The three of us looked at one another.

“Well, hello,” he grinned.