Oyster Shells

“All right,” I said, stroking the condom on my cock. “Hop on.”

“Right,” Nicole said. She lifted herself and began dropping her hips to me.

“Wait, wait,” I said, scooting down the bed. “You’re still coming in a little low. See? When you're a bit higher, you can slide right on. Got it?”

She lowered herself fully, so that I was inside her. “Oh yeah, I see what you mean,” she nodded, beginning to gyrate.

“You’re a fast learner,” I smiled. I crossed my arms behind my head. “Now, do it again.”

“Seriously?” she stopped.

“Yes. Show me, and this time, do it yourself.”

A grin emerged on the only part of her face that was visible. “Yes, sir.”

She lifted herself from me, and looked behind her to my cock. She reached between her legs, took my cock, and slowly guided it back into her.

“Nice, nice!” I commended. “Why, soon you won’t need me here at all.”

Her laughter convulsed on my cock.

We had fallen asleep fucking and now we awoke fucking. Our arms and legs had been entangled as we slept.

Without quite meaning to, in a very short time, we had crossed over to a place where our bodies felt out of kilter if they were not conjoined.

As we fucked, she complained that she really had to go to the bathroom.

“Do you remember the last time we left this bed?” I asked.

She tilted her head. “It was sometime last night . . . right?”

“I asked because I can’t recall,” I said, pushing into her.

She fell forward to kiss me.

Later, she reiterated her need to pee.

“I thought you took care of that,” I said, pumping into her.

“I remember meaning to, but I don’t think I ever did.”

“Huh.”

We kissed.

Suddenly she pulled back. “No, seriously, I really need to pee.”

“Wait, what are you . . . no, no!” She pulled herself from my cock. I grabbed her wrist. “What can you be thinking?” I asked anxiously.

“God, please, God, you have to let me go,” she laughed. “We are ridiculous.”

“You’ll come back?” I asked, turning my body so that my head fell slightly from the side of the bed. I looked up with pleading eyes. “I won’t have to go looking for you?”

“Of course.” She lowered her face and kissed me, her mouth deep and open. “Right after a cigarette.”

“A cigarette?” I grabbed her thigh and pulled her close to my face. “Can’t you see what those things are doing to you, Nicole? What they are doing to us?”

I pulled her thigh to my mouth to kiss her flesh. I nibbled.

I reached up and took her ass, bringing her pussy to my mouth. I latched on to her clit.

“Oh, that’s very hot, but I really do have to pee.”

“Pleth dowd,” I said, tugging on her hips.

“What?”

“Pleth dowd. Pleth dowd on die mouf.”

“Press down? Like this?” She squatted slightly, pressing her clit into my tongue. “Unh, yeah, like this, I see.”

“Gweat. Dow, thuck die dick.”

Her hands stepped down my body until her face reached my cock. She took it in her mouth and effortlessly into her throat.

“Hmmph, puh-feck.” I held her hips firm as I burrowed my nose into her cunt, my tongue swirling on her clit. I mused that as she had only just given her first blowjob the night before, then this must be her first time to sixty-nine with a man.

I’d have to remember to ask if she’d ever done it with a girl.

Maybe we should be making a list of all these firsts, I pondered . . .

“Jefferson?”

“Yed?” I tongued her slit.

“Jefferson, I really do need to pee.”

“Do ahead.” I darted my tongue in and out of her body.

“Jefferson.” Her hands stepped back up my torso. “I don’t know that I’m quite ready to urinate in your mouth.”

I looked up and smiled. “Chicken.”

She took my hands from her hips. “I’ll be back. I don’t want me out of bed any more that you do.”

“Buck buck.”

She stopped at the door, looking back to me. “Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets/The muttering retreats/Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels/And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells.”

“Source?”

“T. S. Eliot,” she answered. “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”

“I should’ve known that one,” I said, flipping onto my belly. “Smart girl.”

“I go to smart school,” she said, turning on the ball of her feet. “And yes, you should’ve.”

I grinned. My eyes followed as she left the doorway, scanning the rosy bite marks on her back, the pink stripes on her ass.

We were vanquishing every virginity we encountered.

As we fucked during the previous evening, just hours after first meeting, I told her I was weary of pussy and wanted to break in her ass.

“I suspected you might,” she smiled. “Obviously, I’ve never done that.”

“Yet many are the asses I’ve deflowered,” I kissed her. “Tell your ass to meet me at the foot of the bed, up in the air, in one moment. I’ll be the guy with the hard on.”

I duly arrived at the appointed destination to find her ass waiting.

“Why, hello, ass,” I smiled as I rolled on a fresh condom. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

She giggled.

I leaned forward to tongue her hole.

“Oh!” she gasped.

Another virginity gone, I supposed. I tongued her deeply to open and relax her, though she seemed perfectly at ease.

As I applied lube generously to her ass and my cock, I explained what she should expect and assured her that we could stop at any time. She nodded into a pillow.

I entered her slowly. “Okay?” I asked.

She breathed, nodding. I pushed in. Instinctively, she pushed back to take me.

“I’m all the way in,” I said quietly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m . . . fine,” she said, getting accustomed to the sensation.

“I’m going to just let you feel this,” I said, leaning forward to kiss her back. I added a new bite to mark the occasion.

I stood. “Okay, now, slowly, I’m going to move inside you.” I moved gently back and forth.

She held up well.

“You’re certainly taking this like a man,” I commended.

“This feels really good,” she said, her voice steady as her mind created a new file marked "anal sex."

I let her have it a little harder. Her breathing went staccato.

I spanked her. She yelped.

I grabbed her hips and fucked her hard. She groaned.

“You’re doing so well, so well,” I breathed.

“Fuck my ass, Jefferson,” she sighed. “Fuck me.”

I stopped. “No.” I pulled out. I tossed the condom aside. “I have designs on your ass. I don’t want it broken on the first night.” I kissed her neck and whispered into her hair. “You are so brave. You take a rough ass fucking so well.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“Now, pretty girl, I’m going to spank you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to do it lightly and, if you don’t ask me to stop, I will do it harder.”

“Okay.”

“And if you don’t ask me to stop, I’m going to use a cat o’nine tails, very lightly.”

“Okay.” She squirmed slightly.

“And if you don’t ask me to stop, I’m going to cane you, again, very lightly.”

“Okay.”

I kissed her. I opened a door to retrieve my arsenal.

I spanked a pink flush to her cheeks and began.

Twenty minutes later, I put down the cane.

“That’s enough,” I said. “I want you to feel this overnight before we go further.” I lay next to her and pulled her into my arms. I kissed her hair. “You don’t have to do it all at once, you know.”

“I want to do it all, at once,” she said to my shoulder.

The next morning, when she returned from her cigarette, I was waiting with a condom.

“Hello, gorgeous,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Ready for more?” she asked.

“I’m not talking to you,” I said with disdain. “The ass and I have an appointment."

“Oh, great!” She climbed on the bed, raising her hips in the air as before.

“Hello, ass,” I said, licking her hole. “Long time, no see.”

“You’re retarded,” she laughed.

“I might have warned you,” I said, entering her.

Half an hour later, she fell forward, her arms still pinned behind her back.

I staggered, wiping the sweat from my face.

Her skin was flushed, highlighting the purple circles on her shoulder.

My ears were numb to all but our overlapping breathing and my pounding heart.

“Shit, son!” she hooted. She laughed.

I sat down, tearing off the condom. “You,” I pointed to her face. “You can go back to college. But you,” I pointed to her ass. “You're not going anywhere.”

To Shine in Use

I led the Stevens girl and her hourglass figure into my bedroom.

“Lay on my bed, pretty girl,” I instructed.

She sat on the bed and brought her long legs to the duvet. She reclined, letting her head rest on the crook of an arm. Her eyes gravitated to my bookshelves.

She glanced back as I undressed. Her eyes took in my body, recording the image of the man she had traveled to meet. She saw me nude before she knew my name.

She removed her glasses, placing them on a nightstand.

She was quiet as I moved to her side. I lowered my mouth to hers. We kissed, my hands getting to know her body, her hands learning the feel of a man’s body.

I moved to cover her with my torso. I opened my mouth to contain hers, to refocus her tongue and teeth from urgency to ardor. My hands held her cheeks firm before pushing her hair back so that I could see her face.

I pulled back for a look, but my mouth drew me back to hers.

My hips pressed into her. She trembled as before.

“I think we should fuck now,” I said, reaching for a condom.

“Yes, please, let’s,” she said. I could tell she meant for that phrase to sound nonchalant, but it came out fast and tinged with nervousness.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I’m very okay,” she smiled. “Come on, let’s fuck.”

I kissed her as I positioned my cock against her cunt. “I should warn you,” she said. “I’m pretty tight.”

“I know this already,” I said, sliding my head between her wet lips.

“I hear that’s often advantageous for the sensations of the male organ,” she smirked.

“I’ve heard that myself,” I nodded, opening a bottle of lube. “That is, once you get the male organ in there. Here, let me lift your legs up.”

I pressed forward, parting her slowly. She gasped. I pushed a little more, edging my way into her.

Her pussy was tighter than a miser’s heart.

I soothed her thighs and breasts, murmuring as I went deeper into her body.

I dropped my body, pressing our bodies together as we kissed. I felt her pulse race against my chest and though my cock.

“You okay?” I whispered.

“Yes,” she nodded. “God, this is good.”

“It is good, isn’t it?” I kissed her neck and began to slowly move inside her.

She began to move back.

Soon, our fucking followed the fervor of our kisses. I grabbed her shoulders, pressing deep as I flipped us.

“Unh!” she groaned, suddenly on top.

“Now, you grind down on me,” I suggested.

“Oh, that’s incredible,” she nodded. Her face was gone again, vanished into her hair. I caressed her slender waist and palmed her firm ass.

She rode me back and forth before, in an epiphany, finding her rhythm.

“Baby, you are so beautiful,” I said softly. “And you are doing so well.”

“This is so incredible,” she repeated, paying close attention to her body’s sensations as she fucked me, closely studying the effect of sex on herself.

She was cerebral, even in her sensuality.

I pinched a nipple. I raised my head to chew on her breast. I bite hard, holding her flesh in my teeth.

She fucked down on me harder.

I let her enjoy herself for a nice long while before we took a break.

“Sex is really great,” she said, then laughed. “Understatement.”

“I’m a big fan.” I said, standing. “Hey, do you mind if I take some pictures? I want to document your body before we fuck it up too much. That bite on your tit is going to be purple soon.”

“It is?” she said, looking to her breast. “I barely noticed that you bit it.”

“Cool, right?” I retrieved my camera. “So, do you mind?”

“Not at all, for your private viewing.”

“Of course.” I adjusted the lighting. “Though, if we get a nice blurry one, I may ask to post it on my blog. Don’t worry, I’d only do that with your approval.”

“Fine. How do you want me?”

“Just act natural,” I said, snapping. “I’ll adjust my angles.”

We talked as I snapped. I told it that I was only now beginning to photograph my friends in bed. “I’m not the brightest bulb,” I said, peering at the viewfinder. “Three years into this life, and I finally realize I should be documenting it in pictures.”

“You’ve got words,” she replied.

We sat to review the images.

“Look at this one,” I said. “You look just like a fifties pin up.”

“Son, I’m hot,” she laughed.

“The camera loves you,” I said, putting the camera aside. “But now, I guess we can no longer delay the inevitable. We need to see how bad your blowjob is.”

“God, I’m sure it’s awful,” she winced. “I’ve never done it.”

“You’ve never sucked cock at all?” I asked, tugging off my condom and reclining in the pillows.

“Nope,” she shook her head. “Never.”

“Well, that won’t do.” I held my cock forward. “Let’s see what you’ve got. Just try it nice and slow, and I’ll talk you though it.”

“Okay, thanks.” She stepped forward on her knees and lowered her face to my cock. She took it in hand and gingerly licked the shaft.

I petted her hair. “That’s so sweet, so nice . . .”

Her tongue caressed my cock, her pale eyes alternating between my eyes and my cock.

I reached for my camera. “Let me document your first blowjob, pretty.” I snapped some photographs as she brought my cock to her lips. “Aw, that’s just lovely,” I clicked. “Okay, now suck my dick, darling.”

She looked up, her eyes on me and my camera. “’He goes to supper: not where he eats, but where he is eaten.’"

“Source?” I asked.

“Shakespeare,” she said into my cock. “Hamlet.”

“Very smart. Now suck my dick.”

She took my head into her mouth.

“Nice, nice . . .” I commended.

She went lower.

“Good, that’s great . . .”

She went lower still, pulling my cock into her throat.

“Whoa, wha wha wha!” I gasped. I dropped my camera to the bed. “Hang on, whoa!”

She started to pull back. “No, I didn’t mean stop,” I said. “Do that again.”

She swallowed me. I pumped slightly. She had all of me.

I rested my cock in her. She continued to hold me in place.

I fucked slowly. She swirled her tongue.

I took her head in my hands and pushed my cock back into her throat. She didn’t hesitate.

“Okay, come up for air,” I panted.

She sat up and wiped her mouth. “Was that okay?”

“Are you kidding?” I said. “You’ve never sucked cock? Never?”

“Nope, never.”

“Kid, you are a born cocksucker. That’s great head. Really, really great. You must have been absent the day they handed out gag reflexes.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. “But I have a question: how do I breath when you’re in my esophagus?”

“Ah, good question. First, take a deep breath before you swallow me. Second, remember, you don’t have to deep throat the whole time. You can tease with your throat before you plunge my cock back. Also, when you are sucking, you don’t need to keep your lips firm the whole time. You can breath through your mouth.”

“Oh, like this?” she asked, taking my cock back in her mouth. She panted around the sides of my shaft. “Hmmph?”

“Perfect,” I said. “You learn fast. Now, get that cock out of your mouth. I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”

She sat up. “Yes sir, professor,” she grinned.

“Call me that again,” I said, reaching for a condom, “And I’ll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked.”

“I’ve never been fucked . . . professor.”

“All that is past now,” I said. “Hand me that camera and get your ass to the edge of the bed.”



The next break found us actually leaving the bedroom.

“So, now that we’ve fucked, can I know your name, Jefferson?”

“If you’ll give me yours, pretty girl.”

“You don’t buy ‘Esther?’”

“I do not, no.”

“Smart boy. It’s not my name. I borrowed it from Saul Bellow. Esther Fenchel is one of the eponymous character's love interests in The Adventures of Augie March.” She nodded to the books on a side table. “You should read it, if you can tear yourself away from Valley of the Dolls.”

I laughed. “I embarrassed to say that I haven’t even started Valley of the Dolls.”

“What are you reading?”

“I’m reading this great biography of Bing Crosby . . . ”

“Weren’t you reading that at Christmas?”

I felt a twinge of remorse. “That was just three weeks ago.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“It’s six hundred pages!”

She shrugged. “My name is Nicole,” she said.

I told her my name. “Pleased to meet you, Nicole.”

“Likewise.”

I poured a bourbon and sat to watch as she pulled out a package of Marlboro Lights.

“I should’ve warned you. I’m a chain smoker.”

“You might’ve warned me of a few things,” I said, sipping.

“There were a few things of which I was unaware,” she rejoindered. “And others you needed to discover.” She lit her cigarette and exhaled.

She looked up, resting the cigarette in her fingers. “’Yet all experience is an arch where through gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished, not to shine in use.’”

She flicked an ash.

I swallowed the bourbon that rested in my throat.

“Source?” I asked.

“Tennyson,” she answered, drawing a puff. “Ulysses.”

“Impressive that you quote,” I nodded.

“It’s what I do,” she replied, stamping out a dead butt. “It’s how my mind works. I capture language. I can quote Tennyson, Eliot, Shakespeare . . . and your blog.”

“My blog?” I sputtered.

“Yes, of course.” She drew another cigarette. “Remember when you took my panties?”

“Very well,” I smiled, raising my bourbon. I took a sip.

“Do you recall what you said as you took them?” She lit her smoke.

I furrowed my brow. “What I said? Well, no, not exactly.”

Her lighter clicked on the table. “You said, ‘cute panties, did you wear these for me?’”

I looked at her, not following.

“So I provided the next line, ‘I often wear cute underwear for no reason at all.’”

“’The next line?’” I asked, resting my bourbon in a palm.

“That’s exactly what you said to someone else when you first met. So I replied with her response.”

“Wow, are you serious? I said that? And you can quote it?”

She exhaled a plum of smoke. “That’s how my mind works.”

“Incredible. Well, I suppose I need some new material if I’m getting redundant.”

“Yeah, you may want to work on that. Remember in our web cam conversation, when you wrote ‘you didn’t have to be attractive, but it helps?’ That’s what you said to Celia in your first post.” She took a drag. “Well, a paraphrase, but approximately the same.”

“I hope you don’t think I carry a set of stock lines,” I apologized. “I guess my mind just has its limitations.”

She drew a puff and exhaled. “You don’t have any cause for concern. You’re an excellent writer.”

“Thanks. Well, I’m honored to be in your repertoire . . . though a little daunted by the company of Tennyson, Eliot and the Bard.”

“You have one advantage over them,” she said, flicking an ash.

“What’s that?”

She took another drag. “I can’t fuck dead writers.”

I took a sip of my bourbon. “Nicole, finish your cigarette.”

She put it out. “Done.”