I reach down between his legs and squeeze him.
“May I paralyze you later?”
“Hell yes you can,” he says. “Although, that’s got to be the least sexy thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
He’s right; that doesn’t sound sexy. “I’ll work on my pillow talk. Please, go on.”
“She was working me. And her sense of timing was excellent.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she wasn’t just going for it, for lack of better words. She started off slow. She didn’t spend too much time on the sensitive areas at the beginning. She would massage my chest, hold my face and kiss me. She would let her face drift down to my neck; she would let her tongue dangle at my lips,” he says. “I had no idea what was going on. She was a virtuoso player, and I was just an enthusiastic amateur.”
“Well, you’ve certainly grown into a professional.”
He stops for a moment and looks at me. “Why thank you.”
“So, what happened next?”
“Somehow—and I don’t remember how she did it, I just remember being impressed as hell—my belt was undone and my pants were open. It was the first time I felt another’s skin on my skin.” He looks at me. “Do you remember what that was like?”
“Sure I do.”
“My whole body was on fire.”
Mmmm.
“She slid lower and lower, and I remember that I couldn’t see what was going on—her hair was in the way. So, I went to get it, her hair, just get it all out of the way, and that’s when I saw it.”
“What?”
“I saw her dragging her tongue, slowly, from the tip of my cock, down the shaft, leaving a slick trail behind it.”
Well played, young woman, well played. “What were you thinking then?”
He shrugs and says, “I indulged a moment of terror.”
“What? Why?”
“I thought I was gonna blow. I thought I was going to come after two seconds, and that was the worst possible outcome of the situation. I had to break from the moment, which was . . . difficult.”
That’s hilarious. “That’s terrible.”
“It took the maximum effort to get it under control. I mean, I was trying everything. At one point, I thought about my mom yelling at me just to try to scare myself straight.”
Christ, what a mood killer. “That’s the kind of stuff that sends people to therapy, Jack.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“So . . . did she suck your cock? ”
He smiles, looks embarrassed. “Not right away, no. She toyed with me for a while. She would do her tongue work, come up and kiss me, stroke me with her hand, then just grab my shoulders and grind her hips against me. After I got my bearings, I tried to do what I could.”
“Hmmm . . . like what?”
“It was clumsy. I was clumsy.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m getting turned on.” And then I pause. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Oh really?” he says.
I kiss him gently on the cheek. “Really.” Mmmm, I smell surrender.
“Like I said, I was clumsy. I tried to emulate some of the stuff I saw in pornos.”
Back on track.
“I don’t know,” he says. “First of all, I didn’t want to let go of her hair. I don’t know why, but . . . I just had to hold it. In my mind it was critical.”
“Um, okay.”
“But with my free hand, I reached around . . . I just wanted to touch her everywhere. I wanted to feel her skin. All of it. She had this fantastic body. I think she unbuttoned her blouse and lifted up my shirt so our skin could touch. Again, it was the first time I’d ever felt anything like that, and it was amazing.”
“It’s still amazing,” I say.
“Yeah, it is.”
I taunt him. “Did you need help getting the bra undone?”
“No.” He’s not amused. “She wore a front-clasp bra that was really easy to take care of. If I recall correctly, I did it with one hand.”
Oh, now he brags. “You were a natural,” I say.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“So get to the good stuff.”
He laughs hard. “Fine, fine.”
“Was she wearing pants or a skirt?”
“She had a skirt on.”
Mmm, nice.
“I reached around her body when she was grinding against me, and I let my hand slip into her panties, under her skirt.”
Obviously. “Was she wet, Jack?”
He pauses again, stops walking. “This is where things get complicated. I mean, you’re trying things out and you don’t really know what the boundaries are. Maybe it was the Catholic school or growing up with three sisters and no brothers, but after I was over the thought of blowing my load in the first minute of adolescent sex, I started to worry that I was gonna cross the line with this girl. The next worst possible outcome of the situation was to hear her say ‘No.’ No actually meant no to me back then.”
Opportunity presented. “So no doesn’t mean no to you anymore?”
His mouth stumbles along. “What? Wait, no . . . ”
Mission successful. “I’m just screwing with you, Jack. Go on.”
He sighs. “All I’m saying is that I was tentative when I touched her. But I could feel . . . something. I could feel the heat of her body, and it pulled at me. My heart was beating out of my chest. I was so excited to be in the situation.”
I crinkle my eyebrows.
“Seriously,” he says. “Every teenage boy has this fear that he is going to die a virgin. Everything that was happening, aside from the incredible physical sensations, was confirmation that I was gonna be okay. I wasn’t going to miss the Pussy Train.”
Ugh, man language. “The Pussy Train?”
He nods and says, “It was a very comforting thought.”
“So clearly, she was on the AP program when it came to foreplay. I get that. How was the sex?”
He starts walking again. “It was awkward, but fucking fantastic.”
For you, I’m sure. “How was it for her?”
“She was . . . overly enthusiastic. Honestly, I think she was overselling the deal a little bit.”
“You think she was faking it?”
He looks at me. “Come on; I was a little boy. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t have a condom—but thank God, she did. I didn’t know how to reciprocate on the foreplay. I was lost . . . in so many ways. She wasn’t having as good a time as all the noise would suggest, I’m sure.”
I taunt him again. “It wouldn’t be unrealistic to think that she put on a show for you. . . . It’s what we have to do sometimes.”
Jack smirks. “Yeah, thanks for that.”
“Men have fragile little egos.”
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for all the screams.”
We laugh together.
I say to him, “You know, I almost walked into my son’s room during his first sexual experience. . . . Well, at least I think it was his first.”
“Yikes.”
“He didn’t even try to hide it . . . arrogant little boy. He left his door ajar, and I saw them when I was walking by. His girlfriend was giving him a blowjob.”
Jack nods approvingly. “Did you bust in there and break ’em up?”
“No,” I say. “Do you think I’m that kind of woman? I was kind enough to let him finish.”
But actually, he finished while I was looking for something to beat him over the head with. Strange how parenting skews rational thought. I mean, what’s the harm in a blowjob?
Jack interrupts my musings. “How old was he?”
“It was about four years ago, so I guess sixteen?”
“Very nice of you to let him finish.”
Yeah, about that. “Oh, we had a discussion. It wasn’t entirely pleasant.”
Jack smiles. “I really like your son—I think you did a great job raising him. He’s a good man. And considering what he does for a living, I a
ctually admire him. Public service isn’t always rewarding.”
In the realm of compliments, there are few things that break through my cynicism. To hear Jack say that he thinks my son grew up to be a good man makes me feel. I’ll have to reward him for that.
Jack stops. “Do you hear that?”
Sounds like a car coming.
I say, “Do you think someone lives out here?”
“I don’t think so. It’s probably cops. Just making sure that there aren’t squatters or vandals running around.”
I have a moment of inspiration and say, “We should hide.”
“What? Why?”
“Just come with me. We’ll go behind those bushes, next to that house.”
I pull at his arm.
Jack resists me.
“What the fuck for? We’re not doing anything wrong. If they are cops, then we’ll just tell them that we’re out for a walk.”
Up the road, just on the other side of a hill, I can see the halo of headlights, adding candescent yellows to the blue-gray houses.
“Come on, Jack, what if it’s not cops? What if it’s trouble?”
He looks skeptical.
“Weren’t you the one who was worried about squatters and gangbangers before we got out of the car?” I remind him.
Now he starts to follow me.
It’s dark, but I can tell he’s pouting again.
We find our way through the long grass and position ourselves behind some overgrown shrubs. Through the bushes, I can see out along the road in the direction where the car is coming from. The headlights haven’t quite made it over the hill. The house is to our right, and there’s a wooden fence to our left. Looks like it was white once upon a time, but now the paint is peeling off of it. This is a good place to hide. Jack is looking around frantically, like he lost something.
I try to keep my voice down. “What are you doing?”
“Just making sure there’s not an anthill here, or something.”
Good point.
“It looks pretty clean. But in this dark, who knows,” he says.
In this dark . . . who knows?
The car breaks over the hill. It’s moving very slowly. I see a spotlight on the side of the car. It has to be cops. They are scanning every house as they go by. I think I hear their radio. Jack’s lying on his back, craning his neck to try to see what’s going on. I’m down on my knees beside him.
I let inspiration take me.
I reach down and undo Jack’s belt.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks.
I shush him and continue.
The car creeps slowly in our direction.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he asks.
“Don’t make any noise; they might hear you.”
I can see him smiling.
The car is close now, and I definitely hear the sounds of police radio.
I unbutton Jack’s jeans.
I lie down next to him and reach into his pants, massaging him. He’s getting excited. I kiss him. I think about his little high school girlfriend story, and I brush my tongue against his lips. He puts his hands on me, pulling me close.
He whispers, “You are insane.”
“Shhh.”
He’s hard now. I slide down his body, pulling his jeans away as I do. The beams of the spotlight are painting the front of the house, cutting broad lines through the dark.
I have his pants down enough. I put my mouth on him.
I think about my first time.
I think about how exciting my first sexual experiences were. The sex was secondary, an afterthought. The true excitement lay in the taboo. I was young, and a good girl didn’t do those things. I wanted to live in that shadow, doing what I wasn’t supposed to do. It took me a while to fall in love with sex. But I immediately fell in love with the defiance of it all.
I miss that feeling.
I work my mouth up and down his cock, stroking with my hand and moving my tongue over the tip.
Jack’s eyes bounce from me to the street and back.
The light hits the bushes that we are hiding behind, shifting left and right.
I slow my movement, sucking hard.
I hear a long, low squeal as the car applies its brakes.
Jack holds his breath.
The car keeps moving.
I let my tongue slide along his shaft and gently tickle him along.
Jack reaches down and gets a hold of my hair. I wonder if it’s because he wants to see what’s going on. He pulls me toward his face, by the hair, not too forcibly, but enough to let me know he’s there.
I like it.
He kisses me hard.
Jack’s not nearly as passive as I make him out to be.
“You really are out of your fucking mind,” he says.
“But we’ve been together a whole year,” I taunt. “I want to do something special for you.”
He laughs and kisses me again.
“Things are a little different now. If we get arrested . . . ”
I put my hand over his mouth. “Shhh.” I look around, let inspiration take me further. “We should break into this house.”
Jack’s eyes shoot wide open, “What? ”
“You don’t want to be out here with all these bugs, do you, Jack?”
I reach down and squeeze him.
I stroke him.
I smell more surrender.
“Well . . . how the hell do you think you’re gonna get in one of these places? You want to bust through a window or . . . ”
“No, no,” I cut him off. “The doors are probably already open. No one lives in any of these places. If not . . . I think I can jimmy the lock.”
He laughs.
“Redneck avenger.”
“Be quiet, and pull your pants up,” I say. “We’re going in.”
The sliding glass door at the back of the place is unlocked. We push it aside and make our way into the dark, empty house. It smells like fresh-cut wood, paint, and power tools. No one has ever lived here. Like so many developments of the past few years, this place, these houses, are empty dreams. I have my knife in my hand, ready to spring it if necessary. And I’m very, very turned on. Jack leads me along as we move from room to room, making sure that there’s no one else here. There’s a bar that looks out from the kitchen to the front of the house, and beyond that, a large bay window looking out to the street—our only source of light.
Jack says, “No one’s here. Let’s go make sure the doors are locked.”
I feel my way to the sliding glass door in the back, clicking the lock into place. Jack sneaks up behind me and lifts me off the ground, spinning me. I giggle, like a little girl, and I forget about being a woman for a second.
We’re being so bad.
I’m a defiant teenage girl again—without all the self-consciousness and indecision that plagued me when I was young.
Jack lets me down gently and turns me around to face him. His arms are strong. He puts them around me, and we kiss. He lifts me up and walks toward the front of the house. He sets me down on the bar, facing the window, and I’m able to look out on the empty street.
“I think I owe you something,” he says.
“Oh really?”
He begins to unbutton my jeans.
“I think so.”
Jack helps my jeans and my panties find their way to my ankles. He slides them over my shoes—one foot out, two feet out—and drops them on the hardwood floor.
He presses my knees apart while kissing me.
The bar is cold on my bare skin, but not enough to distract me. It’s so quiet in the house, all I can do is focus on the sounds of our breathing and the rustling of our clothes. This is a good thing—I don’t want to be distracted.
I put the knife on the bar and unbutton my blouse. Jack lets his hands slide up along my thighs, along the inside of my hips, up along my ribs as the silk blouse flutters aside. I, too, am wearing a bra with a front clasp—my favorite k
ind—and Jack undoes it with the dexterity of a magician. His hands cup my breasts, my nipples hard, and he massages me. I scoot closer to the edge of the bar, pushing my body against his. The heat from his body extends like an aura around him.
We are both breathing hard through lips locked together. The air inside of him finds its way into me, and I feel like we’re one thing, one being. And he’s not even inside me yet. As Jack moves to kiss my neck and my ears, I can feel my skin reaching out to him. I love the prickly heat of his breath on me.
I gasp as he bites down, pinching the muscles and skin on my neck between his teeth. It’s hard, not enough to leave a mark, just enough to send shocks and tremors throughout my body. I can feel it even in the palms of my hands.
He kisses and moves lower, the warmth and the wetness of his mouth on my breasts, on my nipples, gently sucking on them, sliding them around his tongue. I get a handful of his dark hair and pull him closer. The whole of my chest is electrified. He moves back and forth, from breast to breast, before letting his tongue slide lower.
Lower.
Tickling my navel, down to the trimmed hair of my pussy. I let go of his hair and lean back, giving him better access.
Jack’s face is fully between my legs, and his mouth is doing wonderful things. He wraps his lips around my clit, sucking gently, engorging it, and moving his tongue in slow circles. I’m sweating. The air in here is unmoving, and my blood is rushing everywhere, every capillary dilated. He slides a finger inside of me, teasing the inside of my body.
He still has his mouth locked on my clit, his tongue pushing me further and further. I can’t take my eyes off of him.
Except.
Except.
Oh shit.
There are several men walking around outside the house, on the street. One of them has a flashlight, and it sweeps from house to house the same way the car’s spotlight did earlier. There’s no way they can see us right now. But that’s little consolation, because all that’s between us and the men outside is a thin layer of glass and darkness. Should that flashlight find its way to the giant window before which I’m spread wide open, they will see us. I don’t know why, but I feel the need to hold my knife again.
Oh shit.
Jack’s found a very good spot with his finger. Between that and what he’s doing with his tongue, I’m finding it difficult to mind the people outside. Everything he’s doing has an exaggerated effect on my body. Every space he teases with that finger spreads all the way up my spine. Every swirl of his tongue on my most sensitive of places makes my heart swell, filling me.
Nice Girls, Naughty Sex Page 8