Friday, October 22, 2010


I fucked her. I just kept fucking her, looking at her face, trying to get past her beauty.

She was sitting on my stoop when I returned home. She smiled and stood as I approached. I leaned to kiss her cheek. “Been waiting long?” I asked.

“No, just ten minutes or so.” She smiled again, laughing slightly. Nervously.

She was about my height. I stood on a step to look down at her. “You’re pretty,” I observed, taking keys from my pocket. “Good. Come in, let’s see what I can do with you.” I opened the door and let her pass. I noticed that despite the sweltering heat, she wore jeans and long sleeves. I can leave marks, I thought.

Kay and I had waited months to meet. She anticipated an internship in New York and contacted me to propose a summer fling. Her photos showed an attractive brown-eyed girl with long hair, cutting up in silly ways. Her notes were bright and engaging. Though summer was half a year away, we agreed to a fling. It would pass the months of her internship and end with her return to school in the autumn.

Anticipation made us impatient. An event would have me in her town in February, so we became excited about meeting in advance of our fling. When my plans fell through, she suggested meeting in April when she would be in the city visiting family. Those plans also fell through. By the time June finally arrived, we’d had months of aroused correspondence, fueled by our thwarted desires.

I held open the door to my apartment. She stepped quickly, as if to avoid inconveniencing me for long. Inside, she put down her bag and looked around. “I just realized, I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot to bring bourbon.”

I shifted my weight. “You forgot? We went over this, and it’s not like I don’t have a blog that makes it clear. You are to bring bourbon to dates.”

I know. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know of a liquor store in the neighborhood. Should I go get some?”

I stepped out of my shoes. “No, you’re here now and I have a bottle. Just, please, don’t make me repeat things you’ll only forget.” I turned to the kitchen.

“I really don’t mind . . . “ she began.

“On the rocks or neat?” I replied.

“Um, ice. Lots of ice. Maybe some water.” She stood in the kitchen doorway. “I don’t really drink bourbon, so . . . not too strong.”

Pretty. Long sleeves. Forgetful. Weak bourbon. Kay was probably nervous about my first impressions of her.

I led her into the living room and placed her drink on a table. I sat and looked at her. “Kay, take off your clothes.”

She looked at me blankly as the words registered. She laughed and began to unbutton her shirt. “Well, this is the fastest I’ve undressed on a date.”

“I regret waiting this long,” I smiled. I sipped my bourbon. She took off her shirt and paused to sip her drink before resuming.

She had soft round shoulders. As she lowered her jeans, I took note of the fluidity of her gestures. There was a kind of grace about her movements. “You chose not to wear matching underwear?” I asked.

She stood slightly, still holding the leg she was undressing. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t think of it.”

“You must’ve assumed you’d be undressing, Kay.” I sipped my bourbon, looking away.

She laughed, a nervous tic, I gathered. “You don’t like my underwear?”

“No matter. You’ll be rid of them soon enough. Please resume undressing, pretty girl.”

Kay pulled off her jeans and took another sip of her drink. She took a breath, as if resolving to carry on, before removing her bra with an affected casualness. Her breasts were small with faint pink areolas. My eyes moved down as she lowered her panties. “You know, I see more and more girls your age with pubic hair,” I observed. “Must be a trend.”

She added her panties to the pile of clothes by the door. “I didn’t know if I should shave or not.”

“You don’t seem to have given much thought to your appearance, really.” I cocked my head. “Kay, turn around so I can get a look at you.”

She raised herself on her toes and turned, awkwardly, unsure of what to do with her arms. “Do you like?” A nervous laugh.

“Yes, you’ll do nicely.” I put down my drink and patted my lap. “Come here, pretty girl. Sit.”

She turned and crossed the room. “I don’t want to crush you . . .” she began.

“I don’t ask for things I can’t handle. Sit.”

Kay lowered herself into my lap, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I pulled her legs to drape over my own. She lowered her head to nuzzle. I took a breast in my hand. “Look at this,” I said. “Your breasts are perfectly sized to my palm.”

“You do have big hands,” she said, her voice softer now.

“Hmmm.” I assented. She sighed quietly as I traced my fingers down her side. “Spread your legs, pretty girl.”

Kay moved one leg aside. I felt her inner thigh, slowly moving up from her knee. I could feel her head moving against mine as my fingers caressed her labia. “Are you wet for me, pretty girl?”

She nodded into my shoulder. She gasped as a finger entered her. “Good girl,” I murmured. “You did bring me a nice wet hole to fuck.” She moaned more loudly. I took the back of her neck with my other hand. “Kiss me, Kay.” She lifted her head and brought her mouth to mine, her eyes closed. My tongue flitted against her lips, which parted for our first kiss. Two fingers now pulsed inside her as my tongue entered her mouth.

She groaned as I took my fingers from her. I pulled away from our kiss and raised my wet fingers to her lips. She nodded and took my fingers into her mouth. I rubbed them softly against her tongue, gently, and then, abruptly deep to her throat. She gagged, her eyes opening in alarm. I held my fingers in place, keeping her steady with the hand on her neck. “Do you suck dick well, pretty girl?” She sputtered and nodded as well as she could with her head pinned in my hands. “Oh, is that a ‘yes?’” She gagged and nodded again. “Well, pretty girl, that’s good, as I require an awful lot of cocksucking. If you aren’t good now, you soon will be. Can I count on you to suck my dick as I want, whenever I tell you?” She gagged and nodded again, her eyes welling as I kept talking, filling the time as my fingers filled her. “Good.” I took my fingers from her mouth and released her neck. She slumped, gasping for air.

“Stand up,” I instructed. She swung her legs around and, steadying herself with the hand on my shoulder, rose. I stood beside her. “Now, on your knees.” She knelt, her eyes gravitating to my hands unfastening my shorts. They fell to the floor. I kicked them aside and pulled off my shirt, giving her a look at my body. “You really are a pretty girl,” I said, stepping closer. I took her hair in my hand and pulled back her head. “Boys must hit on you all the time, huh?”

“Sure . . .” she began.

I put a finger to her mouth. “You’re not here because you’re pretty, pretty girl.” She opened her mouth to my finger, which moved slowly in her. “I don’t care about your looks. You’re not here because you’re pretty, or because you’re smart, or because you’re kind to small animals. You’re here to do what I say, when I say you should do it.” I added another finger to her mouth. “What you’re going to do now is suck my dick. You’ll do your best?” She blinked and nodded. “Good.” I released her hair and sat. I took my drink in hand and looked at her. She stared back at me. “Well? Was I unclear? Suck my dick.”

She crawled forward on her knees. She took my dick in one hand, moving her hair over her shoulder with the other. Practiced, I thought. She lowered her head to take my dick in her mouth. “Good girl,” I commended. “Show me what you’ve got.” I relaxed into my seat. My free hand rested on my lap. I wasn’t going to move or touch her. This blowjob was entirely hers to perform. I looked at the clock, planning to see how she did for a half hour.

She slurped back the saliva as her mouth moved up and down the end of my cock, her hand working its base in tandem to her sucking. She quickly settled into a comfortable, slow rhythm. I watched her, enjoying my drink. I withheld any feedback—no words, no instructions or guidance, no evidence of pleasure or reaction. After twenty minutes, she began to tire.

“I was afraid of this.” I put down my drink and took her chin in hand. She drew a sharp breath as I pulled up on her face, ending the blowjob. She hurried to wipe the saliva from her lips. “Kay, you suck dick like a pretty girl. It’s not your fault; I rarely meet pretty girls who are already impressive cocksuckers. You don’t have to put anything into your blowjob. Most guys can’t believe they’ve got a pretty girl sucking their dicks. I suppose they get one look at this pretty, pretty face bobbing on their dicks and they just blow.” I nodded at the clock. “You just sucked my dick for twenty minutes. I'll wager that's the longest blowjob you've ever given."

She glanced at the clock. “I don’t know, I think . . .”

I turned her face back to look at me. “Listen to me, pretty girl. Some people work very hard to be good cocksuckers. They aren't just pretty girls. I’ve had my dick sucked by gay men. I’ve had my dick sucked by some very homely women.” I leaned forward. “I’ve had my dick sucked by women from New Jersey,” I whispered. “Do you know what that means? Do you know how well New Jersey women suck dick?” I opened her mouth and moved my cock to her lips. “This summer, you are going to learn how to really suck dick. You’re going to forget how pretty you are. You’re going to suck my dick like the ugliest faggot in a New Jersey prison.”

I took the hand from her chin, grabbed her hair and rammed my cock into her mouth. She coughed in surprise. I pushed my cock into her throat and her in place. “Feel that, pretty girl? That’s where my cock goes.” Holding tightly to her hand, I pulled her head back and forth on my cock, standing still as I pumped myself with her head. Tears welled in her eyes. “Good, let’s see you cry, cocksucker.” She looked up at me, her cheeks sunken as she struggled to keep from drooling. “God damn it, cocksucker, open your mouth.” She struggled with my cock, confused by my instruction. “Open your mouth,” I repeated. “Part your lips. You don’t need to actually suck. Give me a big wet hole to fuck.” She parted her lips, releasing a reserved of saliva. She groaned. “Don’t be embarrassed,” I said. “That’s just what I want.” I adjust my stance, pushed forward my hips, and fucked her mouth roughly. Before, she had full control over her blowjob. Now, she had none. “Twenty minutes,” I instructed. Panic swept over her face. I ignored it.

Twenty minutes later, precisely, I released her hair and stepped back. She fell forward, gasping, her body covered in a sheen of sweat. “Good girl,” I commended. I offered a hand. “Here, let me help you up.” She looked up, still catching her breath. She put her hand in mine and stood. “So lovely, so pretty,” I smiled. I kissed her, taking both her hands in my left hand as my right played across her torso. I trailed a finger to toy with her pubic hair, her labia and, teasing, slowly into her.

She exhaled into my mouth, inhaling my warmth. Still woozy from her exertions, she was reduced to shallow breaths as we kissed.

A hand moved in mine. She wanted to touch me. She tugged slightly and realized, only now, that her wrists were bound in my fingers. I pulled down on her arms, intensifying our kiss.

A second finger entered her, followed by a third. I pulled my lips from hers. Her eyes were closed, her mouth agape. Her pussy was cupped in my hand. I squeezed the fingers inside toward my palm. I lifted. “Unh, oh, that’s so . . . you can’t pick me up that way!”

“On your toes, pretty girl.” I took a step back. “Come with me.” I walked slowly backwards, keeping pressure on her pussy to keep her own her toes, staggering a bit as she followed in tow. “Easy girl, easy . . .” I backed us into my bedroom, I pulled her to me, kissing her as I turned our bodies. “Now,” I said, releasing my grip and easing my fingers from her. “Let’s give your mouth a rest and move in to another hole.” I pushed against her sternum with the fingers wet from her body. She stumbled back onto the bed.

I took a condom from a nightstand and tore open the package. I kept my eyes on her as she watched it roll over my cock.

She laughed, her nervous tic. “Geez, don’t you ever take a break?”

“I only have you for three months,” I said, opening the package. “No time for breaks, pretty girl. Now spread your legs.”

Her body was hot under mine, and slick with sweat. I fucked her slowly, getting a feel for her responses. Her eyes were closed, so I studied the face I had so brutally used. She was pretty, as I kept reminding her, and now, I acknowledged to myself that my disinterest in that was mere pretense: her beauty really did affect me. Her dark hair spread over my pillows, her long lashes resting under large lids, her aquiline nose over unpainted lips . . . she really was a vision. I raided my memory for comparisons to paintings, resolving to keep quiet about that. If I compared her to art, that would really be the end. I’d fall for her. Beauty has that effect.

I fucked her. I just kept fucking her, looking at her face, trying to get past her beauty.

She breathed and sighed and still, I fucked her. I fucked her harder, then softer, always in the same position, always watching her face, flushed with arousal. I noticed the darkening of the sheets around her; we were soaking the bed with perspiration. I kissed her mouth, her beautiful, beautiful mouth, her exquisite mouth, her Botticellian mouth, her Davidesque mouth.

I was as close to her body as one can be—I was inside her body—and still it didn’t feel close enough.

I pulled back to look at her again. The sheets were now darkened in a wider halo around her body.

“Come for me,” I whispered. “Come for me.”

She nodded, Without opening her eyes, she moved a her right hand to touch herself. Her left hand played with a nipple. “Kiss my breasts,” she whispered. I lowered my lips to her untouched nipple, sipping the sweat that accumulated at her breasts. “Oh God . . .” she moaned, bucking her hips.

“So good . . .” I murmured.

“Keep doing . . . oh God, oh man, I’m coming . . .”

“That's right come for God and man,” I whispered. Her breath stopped and then, suddenly, she moaned, convulsing under me.

She dropped her hands and opened her eyes. “Oh my God, that was intense.” She breathed deeply, gulping air. Then she laughed. “’Come for God and man?’”

I laughed. “My head was in a divine place. I’ll say no more than that. Hey, look at this.” I held up a hand. “We’ve been sweating so much, my fingers are wrinkled like prunes.”

She looked at her hands. “Me too. Wow, I’ve never done that.”

“It’s a first for me as well. Take it easy: I’ll bring us some water.” In the kitchen, I poured two glasses with iced water and quickly drained one. I refilled it and returned to the bedroom with both. I handed her a glass and watched her gulp it down.

I took an ice cube from my glass in my fingers. “Here, let’s cool you off,” I offered. I placed the ice between her breasts.

“Agh, that’s so cold!” she winced.

“And you are an oven.” I traced the ice around her breasts, touching her nipples, and in swirls around her torso to her labia. It was still a substantial chunk when I put the ice inside her.

“Ah-ta-ah-ta!” she stammered. “Jesus, that’s cold!”

I lowered my face to her pussy. “Melt it for me,” I said, licking her. The ice was long gone when she came again.

I refreshed our drinks and poured a bath. We sat in the tub to cool off, our only light being the remains of dusk through the window. I smiled at her. “We met at two, right?” “Yeah.” She paused. “Wow, that was—what? Six hours ago?”

I raised my glass. “To time well spent.” She laughed and raised her glass to mine. We drank and talked, getting to know one another after an afternoon and evening of sex. “So, I’m glad you’re here this summer and we get to be together,” I said, taking care that the bourbon not do all the talking. “But . . . no, not but. And. And here’s the thing. We’re going to have lots of sex.”


“And sometimes, when we have sex, it’s going to feel a lot like making love. Like we’re in love. I think that’s just how we are, how you and I are when we have sex.”

She looked at me quizzically. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“I’m not sure I do either, but it’s what it feels like. To me, anyway. Some of that was pretty intense.”

“Yeah, we do have some pretty intense sex,” she agreed.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “That we do.”

“I like it. I like being so . . . submissive with you.” She splashed the water absentmindedly. “I’m going to do my best to suck your dick the way you want. Any way you want.”

I smiled. “Yeah, and about that . . .” I started to stand.

“Oh no, we just had so much sex . . .” she laughed.

“Three months,” I said, putting my cock into Botticelli’s mouth. “There’s much to be done.”

A year and a half later, Kay and I were in bed talking after sex.

“Do you remember when we were in the tub, on our first date?”

“I remember everything about our first date.” I touched her hand. “Pretty girl.”

She chuckled softly. “Do you remember that thing you said about how sex with me felt like making love?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“You know, at the time, I thought that was just a line, something you must’ve said a million times. But now, I’m thinking it wasn’t. You meant it.”

I raised myself on an elbow. “That was no line. I meant it. That was really something, what I was feeling that day.”

“I’m not sure what I was feeling that day,” she mused. “I’m not sure it was as, I don’t know, intense as what you described, or that I felt as intensely as you, but yeah, there was something going on.”

“Something, indeed.” I kissed her Renoir breast.

“Baby,” she sighed. “And look at us now.” She fell quiet, stroking my hair as I kissed her. Suddenly, she laughed at a thought. “That thing about sucking dick like an ugly New Jersey prisoner?”

I looked up and smiled. “Oh, now that was a line.”

Happy birthday, beloved.

Thursday, October 14, 2010