The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #103? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks
She Told Me
“She told me she had a headache.”
Fantasy: If you can’t stand the heat…
“You set the ice cube down and force my legs apart.”
Sugarbutch Star: Bad Bad Girl
“I brought my lips down on hers hard, crushing, devouring, insistent.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself
Upskirt Video from V Magazine
Editor’s Choice
Blog Action Day: Sexual Activism or Lightning Doesn’t Strike Twice
More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
And more!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
My Afternoon with Alejandro
It used to be that I had sex with someone because I couldn’t bear not to. I had to touch his skin, be as close as humanly possible, in the words of a short story writer whose name I’ve forgotten (which I read in a collection called Writing Our Way Home: Contemporary Stories by American Jewish Writers). Now I have sex because I’m horny. Which is not a bad thing, but is less dramatic, or romantic, certainly, and I guess is what happens when you’re 34 and not nineteen. Not that I had sex at 19. I had sex, once, at 17, and then there was a 7 year drought before Luke Parker wore me down with his incessant, arrogant wooing and blunt, uncircumcised dick. But anyway.
I mean, ever since I became a slut the goal has been adventure rather than intimacy. I have had occasional, terrifying forays into intimacy: with Sweetheart Daniel, especially, who is still my favorite non boyfriend ever. But now sex is more about getting off than anything else. Thus Alejandro.
After he contacted me the other week I hemmed and hawed before agreeing, ’cause, though he is cute and our sex was satisfactory, surely sex ought to be more than satisfactory. But. Of late my number of sex partners has shrunk – Alex’s girlfriend is back in town and Jed is, as ever, completely unreliable, so I thought what the hell, and told Alejandro to come on over.
He turned up on Sunday afternoon. I hadn’t seen him in over a year, and it occurred to me that he could be anyone at all. I remembered him as tall, dark-haired, and handsome, with a very faint Brazilian accent and a leather thong around his neck. When I saw him on my doorstep on Sunday – well, it could have been any tall, dark-haired man. “Hey!” I grinned, like we were long lost friends. “Come on in.”
Until Mmmark, Alejandro was definitely the most handsome man I’d ever slept with, but sexually we were sort of ho-hum. We had sex two or three times, and it was quiet, polite, eyes closed-type sex. That is, he doesn’t talk dirty. He was clean cut, and had a nice body, lean and lightly muscled, as I believe the term is, but I had no desire to be as close as humanly possible to him.
So I got him a glass of water and gestured for him to go to my room, and there I sat on my bed and we discussed what we’d been up to in the year and a half since we’d last met. “I took a break from acting,” Alejandro informed me, which I took to mean he’d gotten burnt out from rejection. “But now I’ve started teaching and acting again. It’s going really well.”
Yeah, yeah. He put his backpack on my armchair and after a bit more in this vein, walked over to me: “Are you ready?”
“Huh? Oh—”
“Cause last time you had to drink…” He lifted his arm and mimed drinking like in commercials for soda where people throw back their heads and gulp down high fructose corn syrup. I recalled that on our first date I had insisted on drinking several alcopops (English slang for those soft-drink like mixed drinks you can buy at the supermarket) before getting naked.
“Oh, no—” How things had changed! I could now have casual sex sober.
Alejandro crouched down in front of me and put his face close to mine. He smelled faintly of cologne; Aqua di Gio?
Our faces were close together, but instead of kissing, his lips just hovered next to mine. He was making me wait, which I appreciated, since it added an element of seduction to what was otherwise, well, not a very seductive scene. For a long time we stayed like this, our lips not quite touching as our bodies mimed closeness. I nipped the air surrounding him, waiting for his mouth on mine.
At last we kissed, and Alejandro pushed me backwards onto my mattress. He lay on top of me and I closed my eyes as we kissed, because I was afraid that looking at him would make me feel too detached.
He gently, then not so gently, bit my neck, and I scraped my nails along his back. I always notice a man’s smell, and while the cologne wasn’t overpowering, the cologne made me feel like I was making out with the ground floor of Bloomingdale’s.
We kissed and kissed and I kept my eyes closed so I could concentrate on the sensation instead of asking myself what I was doing with this person. He pulled my shirt over my head and when he struggled with my bra I unhooked it for him. Then I tugged his t-shirt off. His skin was warm against mine. He unzipped my skirt and I slipped off my underwear, and then he pulled off his jeans so we were naked. His dick was medium sized, thick, nice.
His fingers drummed at the skin around my cunt, but not at my clit or lips, again, he teased me. My breathing got heavier, and I wrapped my hand around his dick, it felt thick and solid in my fingers. Still Alejandro’s fingers lingered at my clit, the ghost of his fingertips on me.
At last he slid his fingers to my clit, and I moaned with relief. I was slick for him, all the waiting had done me good. He rubbed his finger inside me for a minute and then turned on his side: “Do you have a condom?”
I nodded, and handed him. I watched as he put it on, then gestured that I wanted to be on top. After a moment I lowered myself on top of him, and closed my eyes as his cock opened me up. For a second I paused, and we looked at one another. Then I pushed myself all the way down, and felt his dick sink all the way in. I sighed.
I started rocking back and forth. Alejandro’s face looked rounder, his skin more olive. He smiled up at me, and I smiled back. He bent his head, and took my left breast in his mouth. Had he remembered that I liked that or was that something he wanted to do? I arched my back against him.
We fucked in silence, exchanging polite smiles as we pushed against one another. I came quickly and then Alejandro took over, rolling on top of me and pinning me to the mattress.
We kissed a bit as he fucked me, and I relaxed with his cock nice and smug inside me. He thrust back and forth, grunting occasionally, and I ran my hands along his back, feeling like I was soothing him somehow.
He took a while to come and when he did he gasped like he’d run a race. As soon as he came I thought: OK, you can go now. Which is very ungenerous on my part, seeing as how Alejandro is a perfectly nice guy and had just given me a perfectly nice orgasm. Nonetheless. We have nothing in common except sex, and now that he was lying next to me in a post-coital way, I felt obliged to make small talk. And anyway if he’d just gotten up and said, “Well, that was great! See ya!” I would have been offended. “So,” I said at last, clearing my throat, “How are you?”
And Alejandro told me, but I didn’t really pay attention since I was wondering how long he might think it was appropriate to stay since clearly I couldn’t kick him out. After a few minutes he got up, dressed, got himself a glass of water and when he got back he reached for his knapsack. “Well,” he said, “I better get going.”
“Well!” I said, jumping out of bed and pulling on my clothes. “Let me see you out.” So I trailed him to the door and we touched lips. He stepped outside and blinked in the bright sunshine.
“Good seeing you,” I said, and gave him a friendly, disinterested smile. He waved, and for a moment there was almost a rueful glance, but then he turned and I shut the door and was alone once more.
I mean, ever since I became a slut the goal has been adventure rather than intimacy. I have had occasional, terrifying forays into intimacy: with Sweetheart Daniel, especially, who is still my favorite non boyfriend ever. But now sex is more about getting off than anything else. Thus Alejandro.
After he contacted me the other week I hemmed and hawed before agreeing, ’cause, though he is cute and our sex was satisfactory, surely sex ought to be more than satisfactory. But. Of late my number of sex partners has shrunk – Alex’s girlfriend is back in town and Jed is, as ever, completely unreliable, so I thought what the hell, and told Alejandro to come on over.
He turned up on Sunday afternoon. I hadn’t seen him in over a year, and it occurred to me that he could be anyone at all. I remembered him as tall, dark-haired, and handsome, with a very faint Brazilian accent and a leather thong around his neck. When I saw him on my doorstep on Sunday – well, it could have been any tall, dark-haired man. “Hey!” I grinned, like we were long lost friends. “Come on in.”
Until Mmmark, Alejandro was definitely the most handsome man I’d ever slept with, but sexually we were sort of ho-hum. We had sex two or three times, and it was quiet, polite, eyes closed-type sex. That is, he doesn’t talk dirty. He was clean cut, and had a nice body, lean and lightly muscled, as I believe the term is, but I had no desire to be as close as humanly possible to him.
So I got him a glass of water and gestured for him to go to my room, and there I sat on my bed and we discussed what we’d been up to in the year and a half since we’d last met. “I took a break from acting,” Alejandro informed me, which I took to mean he’d gotten burnt out from rejection. “But now I’ve started teaching and acting again. It’s going really well.”
Yeah, yeah. He put his backpack on my armchair and after a bit more in this vein, walked over to me: “Are you ready?”
“Huh? Oh—”
“Cause last time you had to drink…” He lifted his arm and mimed drinking like in commercials for soda where people throw back their heads and gulp down high fructose corn syrup. I recalled that on our first date I had insisted on drinking several alcopops (English slang for those soft-drink like mixed drinks you can buy at the supermarket) before getting naked.
“Oh, no—” How things had changed! I could now have casual sex sober.
Alejandro crouched down in front of me and put his face close to mine. He smelled faintly of cologne; Aqua di Gio?
Our faces were close together, but instead of kissing, his lips just hovered next to mine. He was making me wait, which I appreciated, since it added an element of seduction to what was otherwise, well, not a very seductive scene. For a long time we stayed like this, our lips not quite touching as our bodies mimed closeness. I nipped the air surrounding him, waiting for his mouth on mine.
At last we kissed, and Alejandro pushed me backwards onto my mattress. He lay on top of me and I closed my eyes as we kissed, because I was afraid that looking at him would make me feel too detached.
He gently, then not so gently, bit my neck, and I scraped my nails along his back. I always notice a man’s smell, and while the cologne wasn’t overpowering, the cologne made me feel like I was making out with the ground floor of Bloomingdale’s.
We kissed and kissed and I kept my eyes closed so I could concentrate on the sensation instead of asking myself what I was doing with this person. He pulled my shirt over my head and when he struggled with my bra I unhooked it for him. Then I tugged his t-shirt off. His skin was warm against mine. He unzipped my skirt and I slipped off my underwear, and then he pulled off his jeans so we were naked. His dick was medium sized, thick, nice.
His fingers drummed at the skin around my cunt, but not at my clit or lips, again, he teased me. My breathing got heavier, and I wrapped my hand around his dick, it felt thick and solid in my fingers. Still Alejandro’s fingers lingered at my clit, the ghost of his fingertips on me.
At last he slid his fingers to my clit, and I moaned with relief. I was slick for him, all the waiting had done me good. He rubbed his finger inside me for a minute and then turned on his side: “Do you have a condom?”
I nodded, and handed him. I watched as he put it on, then gestured that I wanted to be on top. After a moment I lowered myself on top of him, and closed my eyes as his cock opened me up. For a second I paused, and we looked at one another. Then I pushed myself all the way down, and felt his dick sink all the way in. I sighed.
I started rocking back and forth. Alejandro’s face looked rounder, his skin more olive. He smiled up at me, and I smiled back. He bent his head, and took my left breast in his mouth. Had he remembered that I liked that or was that something he wanted to do? I arched my back against him.
We fucked in silence, exchanging polite smiles as we pushed against one another. I came quickly and then Alejandro took over, rolling on top of me and pinning me to the mattress.
We kissed a bit as he fucked me, and I relaxed with his cock nice and smug inside me. He thrust back and forth, grunting occasionally, and I ran my hands along his back, feeling like I was soothing him somehow.
He took a while to come and when he did he gasped like he’d run a race. As soon as he came I thought: OK, you can go now. Which is very ungenerous on my part, seeing as how Alejandro is a perfectly nice guy and had just given me a perfectly nice orgasm. Nonetheless. We have nothing in common except sex, and now that he was lying next to me in a post-coital way, I felt obliged to make small talk. And anyway if he’d just gotten up and said, “Well, that was great! See ya!” I would have been offended. “So,” I said at last, clearing my throat, “How are you?”
And Alejandro told me, but I didn’t really pay attention since I was wondering how long he might think it was appropriate to stay since clearly I couldn’t kick him out. After a few minutes he got up, dressed, got himself a glass of water and when he got back he reached for his knapsack. “Well,” he said, “I better get going.”
“Well!” I said, jumping out of bed and pulling on my clothes. “Let me see you out.” So I trailed him to the door and we touched lips. He stepped outside and blinked in the bright sunshine.
“Good seeing you,” I said, and gave him a friendly, disinterested smile. He waved, and for a moment there was almost a rueful glance, but then he turned and I shut the door and was alone once more.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Oooh, Sugasm!
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #101? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks
Do you want me…?
“The shiver that runs through you tells me everything I need to know.”
Love that ass (his perspective)
“But as long as we are in here, she submits to my command; to my every whim.”
Hubb and Spoeker
“He was good for show and good in bed, but an asshole in the real world.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself
125 Magazine, Alternet and Enviromentally Friendly Porn
Editor’s Choice
The very best of Sugasm…. so far
More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
This Week’s Picks
Do you want me…?
“The shiver that runs through you tells me everything I need to know.”
Love that ass (his perspective)
“But as long as we are in here, she submits to my command; to my every whim.”
Hubb and Spoeker
“He was good for show and good in bed, but an asshole in the real world.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself
125 Magazine, Alternet and Enviromentally Friendly Porn
Editor’s Choice
The very best of Sugasm…. so far
More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
I Succumb to Jefferson's Dastardly Lesbian Plot!
It was summertime. The sun was shining, and I was going to Atlantic City with Dean.
I thought we were going to stay in a seedy seaside motel, and Dean would relieve elderly daytrippers of their money at the poker table while I wandered the boardwalk and sampled the saltwater taffy.
Instead, we stayed at a perfectly respectable, even luxurious, hotel and ate lots of rich food. I was bemused by the miasma of cigarette smoke and the constant musical roar of slot machines in the lobbies, but seediness was in short supply. I did buy a $4 cappuccino, however.
But my Atlantic City experience was destined to be short, since I had other plans. Or rather Jefferson had other plans for me: “The clock is ticking on your girlginity,” he informed me. “What time are you coming over?”
Oh, right.
**
It had started like this: Back in December, Jefferson had suggested I might want to get it on with a carefully selected woman. I had shrugged. In Jefferson’s orbit, being straight is a bit of a novelty and I wanted to hold onto whatever distinction I might have. Nonetheless, it occurred to me that if I was trying to Live Somewhat Dangerously, perhaps I ought to put my money where my mouth was, or rather, put my mouth where …
The thing was, although Jefferson knows tons of attractive bi and lesbian women, when you’re approaching your first lesbian encounter as a kind of adult-ed experience, it’s not like choosing a hot boy to fuck. I could agree that a woman was comely, but there was no connection between my brain and my groin, so it had no context. And I don’t like to fool around without context.
Also, I realized that there were certain other barriers to me getting it on with a woman. Like, I did not want to hook up with someone I was friends with. I can do that with men, but with a woman it just seemed too overwhelming, too much opportunity for sidelong glances, misunderstandings, etc. I wanted it to be with someone I didn’t see on a regular basis.
She would have to be more experienced, and amenable to the fact that I was a girl virgin and awkward in the extreme, I decided.
So what I wanted was someone I could be attracted to, did not know very well, was experienced, and furthermore did not threaten my fragile ego in any way. With these demands in place I felt confident that I’d outmaneuvered Jefferson and would not come face-to-pussy with my fears in the near future.
**
When I first met Jessica my only thought was that she and her boyfriend should definitely attend Jefferson’s orgies. She was pretty, brunette, and friendly, with long hair and a nice giggle. The word vivacious would have been appropriate.
Actually she was kind of like me, though I am not always vivacious. She and Sean stopped by Jefferson’s one afternoon. I was on my way out, but I stuck around long enough to echo Jefferson’s assertions that they would definitely have a good time if they turned up at a party.
Eventually, they turned up. This was at the May orgy. Jessica, stripped to her bra, made out with Jed while I watched. The next day I emailed Jefferson, “You know, if I were going to hook up with a girl, Jessica’s the kind of girl I would do it with.”
Jefferson interpreted this as a green light and took it upon himself to arrange the great lesbian experience. He sent me an email later that day saying we were all set: Jessica and Sean were game. It would be, Jefferson informed me, what was known as a “soft swap”: While she and I would hook up, Jessica would not have sex with Jefferson, nor would I fuck Sean.
I was mortified. Not only had Jefferson organized My First Lesbian Event, he’d done it in a way that made me look like a third grader. He’d probably passed Jessica a note in language arts: Do you want to have sex with Lily? Check Yes ___ or No ___.
It turned out that Jessica was likewise inexperienced with women, which I hadn’t realized. From the conversation we’d had when we’d met I’d had the impression she’d slept with several women.
So now I was committed to sex with another straight-identified woman. One who’d probably felt obliged to say yes. Gah.
**
Of course, I hadn’t actually protested when Jefferson told me we were getting nekkid. Jefferson gets me to do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do, because he arranges them and then informs me of the fact, so I never have to take any responsibility. Passive aggressive on my part, but he’s never complained. I considered this as I made my way to Jefferson’s apartment one hot Saturday afternoon. When I reached his door, I gave myself no time to consider what I was in for, and rang the bell before I could start worrying.
Jefferson peeked around the door at me: “Hiiiiii,” he smirked. I stepped inside.
Jessica and Sean were seated on the couch. “Hi!” I tried for insouciant cheeriness. They waved.
I made my way to them and, in a bold move, sat next to Jessica on the sofa rather than in the armchair opposite. I swallowed.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Jefferson twinkled at me. He knows I find alcohol invaluable in these situations.
“Can I have a gin and tonic?” I glanced at Jessica, and then at Sean.
Jessica leaned over and looked up at me from under her lashes: “We went to brunch and had six mimosas,” she confessed. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who’d needed Dutch courage. I grinned at her, and she grinned back.
Jefferson brought me a large g and t, with a wedge of lime, and soon enough Jessica and I were talking a blue streak, about how alcohol combated nerves, how she and Sean had started dating, about Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
In fact, Jessica was awesome: engaging, friendly, good natured. Her boyfriend was lovely, too: quiet, with dark hair and sort of boy scout good looks. He watched Jessica with pride. OK, he was totally hot.
Eventually, when I’d downed my second very large g and t, Jefferson indicated it was time for us to get moving. Marcus was coming over later, and, as Jefferson had told me, if he turned up while Sean and Jessica were around, all hell would break loose.
“He’d insist on an orgy on the spot,” he’d emailed me. “That might spook Jessica and Sean, so we have to finish up early.”
Jessica and I looked at one another. I raised my eyebrows. “OK?” She nodded, so we headed off down the hall.
Jefferson and Sean left us alone, as per intro lesbian etiquette, I guess. Jessica and I sprawled on Jefferson’s bed, topless, drunk, game.
“Listen,” I slurred, giggling, “I didn’t realize that you had never hooked up with a woman—I didn’t want you to think—” What I guess I didn’t want her to think was that she was, you know, obliged to hook up with me, even if we were both half naked and entirely drunk. Or maybe I was still embarrassed at how the whole thing had been arranged. I dunno.
“That’s OK,” she sniggered.
We whispered for a while, gingerly touching one another: “Your skin’s really soft!” Jessica exclaimed.
I stroked her arm: “So’s yours!” I lowered my voice, though no one else was in the room: “Can I touch your tits?” Her breasts were at least a D, with large reddish brown nipples.
“Uh huh.”
“Hey, what’s going on in there?”
We looked up. Jefferson and Sean stood in the doorway, beaming at us.
“Go away,” I mumbled.
Tentatively I licked a nipple. Jessica nodded her encouragement. “You can come back in,” I called.
The boys trooped in, and Jefferson supervised the rest of the undressing; I was too far gone to be of much use. Naked, Jessica was smooth and curvy all over, with pale skin that glowed in the darkened bedroom. The room spun, and I wondered if I should have had quite so much to drink.
I looked up at Jefferson: “Now what?”
“Now you go down on her,” he said.
“OK.” My eyes met Jessica’s. “You’ll have to direct me,” I said. She nodded.
I scooted onto my knees. Jessica’s pussy was completely bare except for a tiny thatch of hair just above her clit. Cautiously I slipped my finger against the hood of her clit. “It’s like a button!” I exclaimed. I had never seen anyone’s clit – other than my own – before.
Jefferson and Sean watched in polite silence while I studied Jessica’s pussy. Then, after a moment, I put my mouth to her clit and licked.
Hmmm.
I licked again, and then put my tongue up close to her and pressed it against her skin. In all the dirty stories (I mean, erotica) I read, women have a smell -- like pepper, or orchids, or spices or whatever. I couldn’t smell or taste anything from Jessica, though. I licked her again.
“Higher,” she said. “Steady pressure on my clit.”
I obeyed, and lifted my mouth to slide my fingers against her skin. After a minute I slid my index inside her; she was wet.
“How’s that?”
She nodded. “You can put another finger in,” she said. I obliged. “Yeah, I just get very wet,” she explained, smiling, while I slid a finger in and out. Indeed. I concentrated on her clit for a while, and then Jessica slid down on the mattress and slipped between my legs. I hoped I tasted OK.
After a bit Jessica moved away, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed Jefferson move towards her. They kissed. Then Sean leaned over from his side of the bed and kissed her, too. I was on my haunches, watching them. When Sean lay back on the bed next to me, I leaned over and whispered to Jessica: “Can I go down on your boyfriend?”
She smiled: “Sure.” Generous girl! His dick was standing straight up, full and hard. I bent over and wrapped my mouth around him, I’d never felt quite so compelled to suck someone off. It was a relief to blow him, he felt great in my mouth. A dick, that’s my natural habitat.
I could have gone like this for some time, but alcohol made things blurry and I don’t remember much else. We parted with great cordiality and later on, when I asked Jefferson if he’d seen me and Jessica kiss, he said he couldn’t remember.
Did I manage to have sex with a woman without kissing her? Worse, did I kiss her and not remember it?
**
After Sean and Jessica disappeared, I lay on the couch in an alcoholic daze. Then I perked up: “Where’s Marcus?”
Jefferson had promised I could meet his boyfriend, who was supposed to turn up with his boyfriend. So I stuck around, and soon enough, Marcus showed up with Seamus. Marcus was, just as promised, tall and handsome in the Ben Stiller vein – dark haired, lanky, gregarious. Seamus was mild mannered, built. He sort of reminded me of Grant Mitchell of Eastenders, only without the ruddiness. I generally don’t go for bald, stocky (or, you know, gay) men, but I took a shine to Seamus.
We ordered Chinese and sat around while I tried to remember whether or not Jessica and I had kissed. Marcus regaled us with stories of his life as a whore, and I tried not to look gobsmacked. Then Jefferson leaned over and whispered: “Don’t hook up with Marcus.”
I shook my head – I’m very skittish about sex workers; and anyway, I prefer my men a little less alpha. I like shy, angst-ridden boys who look like they could use a good meal or might like to educate me about some band I’ve never heard of, not hottie motormouths who have sex for a living.
Marcus was telling us about one of his clients, whom he had accused of not trusting him. “So anyway,” Marcus went on, “I had my foot up his ass and…”
He had his foot up some guy’s ass. I cast a covert glance at Marcus’s feet, currently shod. He had a big foot. Wouldn’t this be unhygienic? Not to mention exceptionally painful? Did Marcus wash his feet before shoving them up a man’s ass? Or were there foot condoms out there to prevent athlete’s…
Eventually Marcus and Seamus wandered out to the deck, and I turned to Jefferson: “He is getting nowhere near me.” I found Marcus fascinating and attractive but, also, you know, gah!
But all my gins and tonics were taking their toll, so when Jefferson suggested I stay over, I gratefully acquiesced. I took a quick shower (it was still very hot) and then put myself to bed in Jefferson’s room, wrapped in a bath towel. Some time later I felt Jefferson slip off my towel and curl up next to me.
We must have been asleep, because I woke up to the sound of Jefferson’s shrieks: “Stop it!” he cried. I opened an eye. Marcus and Seamus loomed above us, and Marcus was smacking Jefferson lightly with a DVD – Lost, season 1. What the--?
Then Marcus grabbed my arm. “Hey!” I squeaked. He wrapped one of Jefferson’s neckties around my wrist and started tying me to Jefferson. “What are you doing?!”
Hooting happily, Marcus and Seamus rained blows on Jefferson, who protested, but not very strongly. I think, in fact, that if I hadn’t been there, he would have been quite happy to have been assaulted with DVDs.
Marcus laced me to Jefferson and started swatting at me. “Cut it out!” I cried, really annoyed. I was naked, in front of two men I’d just met. When that happens, it’s because it’s my choice, not because someone has woken me up and pelted me with video discs. I glared at Marcus. “Stop it.”
“Stop!” Jefferson laughed, but Marcus and Seamus kept it up.
I leaned over and reached for my bra. This was ridiculous. “OK, that’s it,” I said.
“Yeah, stop,” said Jefferson again, pushing Marcus away. Chastened, Marcus and Seamus swept from the room, chuckling. Jefferson began to untie himself.
I sat there, wide awake, my bra halfway up my arms. Jefferson tossed the necktie to the armchair and rolled his eyes. “Ow,” he said, rubbing his arm, where Marcus had scored a direct hit.
My fists were clenched. Jefferson gave my arm a squeeze, then rolled onto his side. Within minutes, he was snoring.
I sat on the bed, staring straight ahead. My bra still hung on my arms. I could hear the low laughter of Marcus and Seamus as they got ready for bed. My hands were shaking; I was furious.
I looked again at Jefferson, nestling quietly at my side. “Jefferson,” I whispered, “Jefferson?” I tapped him on the shoulder, but he just snored.
I got out of bed and got dressed. I hunted for a pen and piece of paper and stared at it for a minute. Jefferson, I wrote at last, I tried to wake you but you were dead to the world. Talk to you soon – Lily.
I turned off the light as I left the room. As I made my way to the door I could hear the steady squeak of the futon from the second bedroom.
I thought we were going to stay in a seedy seaside motel, and Dean would relieve elderly daytrippers of their money at the poker table while I wandered the boardwalk and sampled the saltwater taffy.
Instead, we stayed at a perfectly respectable, even luxurious, hotel and ate lots of rich food. I was bemused by the miasma of cigarette smoke and the constant musical roar of slot machines in the lobbies, but seediness was in short supply. I did buy a $4 cappuccino, however.
But my Atlantic City experience was destined to be short, since I had other plans. Or rather Jefferson had other plans for me: “The clock is ticking on your girlginity,” he informed me. “What time are you coming over?”
Oh, right.
**
It had started like this: Back in December, Jefferson had suggested I might want to get it on with a carefully selected woman. I had shrugged. In Jefferson’s orbit, being straight is a bit of a novelty and I wanted to hold onto whatever distinction I might have. Nonetheless, it occurred to me that if I was trying to Live Somewhat Dangerously, perhaps I ought to put my money where my mouth was, or rather, put my mouth where …
The thing was, although Jefferson knows tons of attractive bi and lesbian women, when you’re approaching your first lesbian encounter as a kind of adult-ed experience, it’s not like choosing a hot boy to fuck. I could agree that a woman was comely, but there was no connection between my brain and my groin, so it had no context. And I don’t like to fool around without context.
Also, I realized that there were certain other barriers to me getting it on with a woman. Like, I did not want to hook up with someone I was friends with. I can do that with men, but with a woman it just seemed too overwhelming, too much opportunity for sidelong glances, misunderstandings, etc. I wanted it to be with someone I didn’t see on a regular basis.
She would have to be more experienced, and amenable to the fact that I was a girl virgin and awkward in the extreme, I decided.
So what I wanted was someone I could be attracted to, did not know very well, was experienced, and furthermore did not threaten my fragile ego in any way. With these demands in place I felt confident that I’d outmaneuvered Jefferson and would not come face-to-pussy with my fears in the near future.
**
When I first met Jessica my only thought was that she and her boyfriend should definitely attend Jefferson’s orgies. She was pretty, brunette, and friendly, with long hair and a nice giggle. The word vivacious would have been appropriate.
Actually she was kind of like me, though I am not always vivacious. She and Sean stopped by Jefferson’s one afternoon. I was on my way out, but I stuck around long enough to echo Jefferson’s assertions that they would definitely have a good time if they turned up at a party.
Eventually, they turned up. This was at the May orgy. Jessica, stripped to her bra, made out with Jed while I watched. The next day I emailed Jefferson, “You know, if I were going to hook up with a girl, Jessica’s the kind of girl I would do it with.”
Jefferson interpreted this as a green light and took it upon himself to arrange the great lesbian experience. He sent me an email later that day saying we were all set: Jessica and Sean were game. It would be, Jefferson informed me, what was known as a “soft swap”: While she and I would hook up, Jessica would not have sex with Jefferson, nor would I fuck Sean.
I was mortified. Not only had Jefferson organized My First Lesbian Event, he’d done it in a way that made me look like a third grader. He’d probably passed Jessica a note in language arts: Do you want to have sex with Lily? Check Yes ___ or No ___.
It turned out that Jessica was likewise inexperienced with women, which I hadn’t realized. From the conversation we’d had when we’d met I’d had the impression she’d slept with several women.
So now I was committed to sex with another straight-identified woman. One who’d probably felt obliged to say yes. Gah.
**
Of course, I hadn’t actually protested when Jefferson told me we were getting nekkid. Jefferson gets me to do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do, because he arranges them and then informs me of the fact, so I never have to take any responsibility. Passive aggressive on my part, but he’s never complained. I considered this as I made my way to Jefferson’s apartment one hot Saturday afternoon. When I reached his door, I gave myself no time to consider what I was in for, and rang the bell before I could start worrying.
Jefferson peeked around the door at me: “Hiiiiii,” he smirked. I stepped inside.
Jessica and Sean were seated on the couch. “Hi!” I tried for insouciant cheeriness. They waved.
I made my way to them and, in a bold move, sat next to Jessica on the sofa rather than in the armchair opposite. I swallowed.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Jefferson twinkled at me. He knows I find alcohol invaluable in these situations.
“Can I have a gin and tonic?” I glanced at Jessica, and then at Sean.
Jessica leaned over and looked up at me from under her lashes: “We went to brunch and had six mimosas,” she confessed. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who’d needed Dutch courage. I grinned at her, and she grinned back.
Jefferson brought me a large g and t, with a wedge of lime, and soon enough Jessica and I were talking a blue streak, about how alcohol combated nerves, how she and Sean had started dating, about Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
In fact, Jessica was awesome: engaging, friendly, good natured. Her boyfriend was lovely, too: quiet, with dark hair and sort of boy scout good looks. He watched Jessica with pride. OK, he was totally hot.
Eventually, when I’d downed my second very large g and t, Jefferson indicated it was time for us to get moving. Marcus was coming over later, and, as Jefferson had told me, if he turned up while Sean and Jessica were around, all hell would break loose.
“He’d insist on an orgy on the spot,” he’d emailed me. “That might spook Jessica and Sean, so we have to finish up early.”
Jessica and I looked at one another. I raised my eyebrows. “OK?” She nodded, so we headed off down the hall.
Jefferson and Sean left us alone, as per intro lesbian etiquette, I guess. Jessica and I sprawled on Jefferson’s bed, topless, drunk, game.
“Listen,” I slurred, giggling, “I didn’t realize that you had never hooked up with a woman—I didn’t want you to think—” What I guess I didn’t want her to think was that she was, you know, obliged to hook up with me, even if we were both half naked and entirely drunk. Or maybe I was still embarrassed at how the whole thing had been arranged. I dunno.
“That’s OK,” she sniggered.
We whispered for a while, gingerly touching one another: “Your skin’s really soft!” Jessica exclaimed.
I stroked her arm: “So’s yours!” I lowered my voice, though no one else was in the room: “Can I touch your tits?” Her breasts were at least a D, with large reddish brown nipples.
“Uh huh.”
“Hey, what’s going on in there?”
We looked up. Jefferson and Sean stood in the doorway, beaming at us.
“Go away,” I mumbled.
Tentatively I licked a nipple. Jessica nodded her encouragement. “You can come back in,” I called.
The boys trooped in, and Jefferson supervised the rest of the undressing; I was too far gone to be of much use. Naked, Jessica was smooth and curvy all over, with pale skin that glowed in the darkened bedroom. The room spun, and I wondered if I should have had quite so much to drink.
I looked up at Jefferson: “Now what?”
“Now you go down on her,” he said.
“OK.” My eyes met Jessica’s. “You’ll have to direct me,” I said. She nodded.
I scooted onto my knees. Jessica’s pussy was completely bare except for a tiny thatch of hair just above her clit. Cautiously I slipped my finger against the hood of her clit. “It’s like a button!” I exclaimed. I had never seen anyone’s clit – other than my own – before.
Jefferson and Sean watched in polite silence while I studied Jessica’s pussy. Then, after a moment, I put my mouth to her clit and licked.
Hmmm.
I licked again, and then put my tongue up close to her and pressed it against her skin. In all the dirty stories (I mean, erotica) I read, women have a smell -- like pepper, or orchids, or spices or whatever. I couldn’t smell or taste anything from Jessica, though. I licked her again.
“Higher,” she said. “Steady pressure on my clit.”
I obeyed, and lifted my mouth to slide my fingers against her skin. After a minute I slid my index inside her; she was wet.
“How’s that?”
She nodded. “You can put another finger in,” she said. I obliged. “Yeah, I just get very wet,” she explained, smiling, while I slid a finger in and out. Indeed. I concentrated on her clit for a while, and then Jessica slid down on the mattress and slipped between my legs. I hoped I tasted OK.
After a bit Jessica moved away, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed Jefferson move towards her. They kissed. Then Sean leaned over from his side of the bed and kissed her, too. I was on my haunches, watching them. When Sean lay back on the bed next to me, I leaned over and whispered to Jessica: “Can I go down on your boyfriend?”
She smiled: “Sure.” Generous girl! His dick was standing straight up, full and hard. I bent over and wrapped my mouth around him, I’d never felt quite so compelled to suck someone off. It was a relief to blow him, he felt great in my mouth. A dick, that’s my natural habitat.
I could have gone like this for some time, but alcohol made things blurry and I don’t remember much else. We parted with great cordiality and later on, when I asked Jefferson if he’d seen me and Jessica kiss, he said he couldn’t remember.
Did I manage to have sex with a woman without kissing her? Worse, did I kiss her and not remember it?
**
After Sean and Jessica disappeared, I lay on the couch in an alcoholic daze. Then I perked up: “Where’s Marcus?”
Jefferson had promised I could meet his boyfriend, who was supposed to turn up with his boyfriend. So I stuck around, and soon enough, Marcus showed up with Seamus. Marcus was, just as promised, tall and handsome in the Ben Stiller vein – dark haired, lanky, gregarious. Seamus was mild mannered, built. He sort of reminded me of Grant Mitchell of Eastenders, only without the ruddiness. I generally don’t go for bald, stocky (or, you know, gay) men, but I took a shine to Seamus.
We ordered Chinese and sat around while I tried to remember whether or not Jessica and I had kissed. Marcus regaled us with stories of his life as a whore, and I tried not to look gobsmacked. Then Jefferson leaned over and whispered: “Don’t hook up with Marcus.”
I shook my head – I’m very skittish about sex workers; and anyway, I prefer my men a little less alpha. I like shy, angst-ridden boys who look like they could use a good meal or might like to educate me about some band I’ve never heard of, not hottie motormouths who have sex for a living.
Marcus was telling us about one of his clients, whom he had accused of not trusting him. “So anyway,” Marcus went on, “I had my foot up his ass and…”
He had his foot up some guy’s ass. I cast a covert glance at Marcus’s feet, currently shod. He had a big foot. Wouldn’t this be unhygienic? Not to mention exceptionally painful? Did Marcus wash his feet before shoving them up a man’s ass? Or were there foot condoms out there to prevent athlete’s…
Eventually Marcus and Seamus wandered out to the deck, and I turned to Jefferson: “He is getting nowhere near me.” I found Marcus fascinating and attractive but, also, you know, gah!
But all my gins and tonics were taking their toll, so when Jefferson suggested I stay over, I gratefully acquiesced. I took a quick shower (it was still very hot) and then put myself to bed in Jefferson’s room, wrapped in a bath towel. Some time later I felt Jefferson slip off my towel and curl up next to me.
We must have been asleep, because I woke up to the sound of Jefferson’s shrieks: “Stop it!” he cried. I opened an eye. Marcus and Seamus loomed above us, and Marcus was smacking Jefferson lightly with a DVD – Lost, season 1. What the--?
Then Marcus grabbed my arm. “Hey!” I squeaked. He wrapped one of Jefferson’s neckties around my wrist and started tying me to Jefferson. “What are you doing?!”
Hooting happily, Marcus and Seamus rained blows on Jefferson, who protested, but not very strongly. I think, in fact, that if I hadn’t been there, he would have been quite happy to have been assaulted with DVDs.
Marcus laced me to Jefferson and started swatting at me. “Cut it out!” I cried, really annoyed. I was naked, in front of two men I’d just met. When that happens, it’s because it’s my choice, not because someone has woken me up and pelted me with video discs. I glared at Marcus. “Stop it.”
“Stop!” Jefferson laughed, but Marcus and Seamus kept it up.
I leaned over and reached for my bra. This was ridiculous. “OK, that’s it,” I said.
“Yeah, stop,” said Jefferson again, pushing Marcus away. Chastened, Marcus and Seamus swept from the room, chuckling. Jefferson began to untie himself.
I sat there, wide awake, my bra halfway up my arms. Jefferson tossed the necktie to the armchair and rolled his eyes. “Ow,” he said, rubbing his arm, where Marcus had scored a direct hit.
My fists were clenched. Jefferson gave my arm a squeeze, then rolled onto his side. Within minutes, he was snoring.
I sat on the bed, staring straight ahead. My bra still hung on my arms. I could hear the low laughter of Marcus and Seamus as they got ready for bed. My hands were shaking; I was furious.
I looked again at Jefferson, nestling quietly at my side. “Jefferson,” I whispered, “Jefferson?” I tapped him on the shoulder, but he just snored.
I got out of bed and got dressed. I hunted for a pen and piece of paper and stared at it for a minute. Jefferson, I wrote at last, I tried to wake you but you were dead to the world. Talk to you soon – Lily.
I turned off the light as I left the room. As I made my way to the door I could hear the steady squeak of the futon from the second bedroom.
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