Unfortunately, when you work in a mall,
lunch usually means the Food Court. Privacy was not an essential
feature in its design, although apparently uncomfortable seats and
colors not found in nature were. Clary got away from her shop in
time to meet me in front of Chick-Fil-A. Clarisse is Nicole's
sister. Darker blonde hair, pixie nose, evil mind. I met her first,
as luck would have it, but as she was paired off with a friend of
mine at the time we settled into buddihood. We went through some
harrowing times together, watching each other's lovers come and go
with accompanying sarcastic comments until the day her sister came
home from school overseas and was introduced to me by her giggling,
whipped-cream-covered sibling (we had been battling). Clary worked
in the terribly trendy lotions shop across the way, a horrible
waste of her talents but I'm hardly one to talk and at least the
constant aromatherapy seemed to help calm her down. By the time she
joined me she was able to converse in a rational manner.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I sipped my tea slowly. “I don't know.”
“Oh, no, I need a better answer than
that.”
“I said I don't know. Doesn't mean I've
never thought about it, I've thought about it a lot, I just don't
know.” I sat back and looked at the fountain in the middle of the
court. “For some reason, whenever I start to do that I get all
nervous.”
“Nervous.”
“Yeah. My stomach gets all fluttery and I'm
afraid I'll vomit.”
“Vomit.”
“Look, it's not that I think it's wrong or
unnatural or anything, or even that I don't want to do it, and I
know it's not really fair since she'll go down on me without a
qualm, or not much of one anyway, unless she's been…”
Clary grabbed my chin and swiveled my head
around to face her. “You're babbling.”
“Sorry.”
She sat back and looked at me, either in
sympathy or scorn. “Have you ever gone down on a woman?”
“No.”
“Never even tried?”
“No.”
“Were you, like, frightened by a taco or
something when you were young?”
I stood up, faster than I meant to. “Dammit,
this isn't easy for me.”
She stood up herself and touched me on the
arm. “I'm sorry, it's just so hard for me to accept. I mean,” she
said as we both sat back down. “You're one of the nicest guys I
ever knew. Real considerate, easy to talk to, y'know. If Nicci
hadn't grabbed you I might've eventually, although I'd have gotten
you some better clothes. And I know you're not shy, and you’re a
major horndog, so I always assumed that you, you know, munched the
muffin. What's holding you back?”
I sat still for a few long minutes before I
answered. “I think… I think I'm afraid I won't be able to do it
right.”
“You mean like…”
“Wait, let me finish.
Touching is easy, both of you are fumbling around down there. And
sex isn’t too tough to figure out; you stick
this
in
there
and repeat. And I don’t want to
sound like I don’t appreciate it, but giving a blowjob is a
no-brainer. Stick it in your mouth and most guys won’t notice what
you’re doing with it, they’re just so happy it’s there in the first
place. I think that I'm afraid that I'll get down there and not
know what to know and feel like a fool, and disappoint her. I mean,
when we started fu… I can't talk to you about this, you're her
sister for God's sake.”
“And I'm your best friend and we used to
talk about this stuff before so shut up and keep talking. Look, you
know what to do with your hands, right?” I nodded. “So do that with
your tongue. Use your hands a lot, pay attention to what she likes,
I just can't believe I have to tell you this. You've been together
since high school, you've been in each other's pants every time you
turn around, how could you not know…” She saw the mournful look on
my face and subsided. “All right. We can fix this.”
“’
We’?”
“Yup, 'we'. No sister of mine is going to be
deprived if I can help it. She still have her classes on Thursdays?
Good, I'll be over around seven. Don't look at me like that, Deep
Throat, this'll be a training mission. My pants stay on.”
Some interesting thoughts went through my
mind as I tried to concentrate on business. I've never been
unfaithful to Nicole, never really wanted to be, and I've always
thought of Clary as a buddy. Okay, a buddy with a nice ass,
granted, but I never thought of her sexually, honest. Not more than
once or twice. But now while my wife was away she was coming over
to my house for the sole purpose of talking about sex. I wouldn't
be human if I didn't entertain a few stray fantasies.
Boy, was I human.
By 7:20 I was still trying to decide whether
aftershave would be pushing it, especially when I knew nothing
would happen but I wanted to be sweet-smelling if it did, when she
barged in carrying two huge bags. She brushed past me and dropped
them on the kitchen counter while I went to close the doors before
the cats made a break for it. When I looked back at her, any
niggling thoughts I may have had about the evening's activities
shriveled and died; she was digging into one of the bags with the
same expression I remembered from the night she decided to pierce
her own nipple, that
“this-is-going-to-be-great-wait-til-you-see-what-I'm-going-to-do-with-YOU”
look that I'm sure was the first thing Frankenstein's monster ever
saw. I recognized the Hustler right off, but I wasn't sure about
the fist-sized package she produced. “Um, what are you doing?” I
asked.
She kept digging and said, “Props. Gotta get
you comfortable with the little critter before you can kiss
it.”
“I'm very comfortable with the organ in
question. Are you paying me back for that avocado thing?”
“As you long as you think of it as an
'organ', you still need help. And no, my vengeance for that
travesty will be drawn out and terrible.” She started yanking at
the package wrapping.
“Gives me something to live for. Give me
that,” I said, taking the package away and easily removing the
brown paper. It was a sex aid, half a pound of polyvinyl cunningly
shaped into a familiar shape, with a reservoir. The package
promised Real Hair and The Time of My Life. I stared at it
stupidly, then looked up at her beaming face. “You bought me a
vagina?”
“Everyone should have one,” she agreed
happily. “It's a ‘Pocket Pud’. If you can't practice on the real
thing, we'll run you through the simulator.”
“I'm afraid to ask what's in the other
bag.”
“Tacos. In case I get hungry, too.”
We repaired to the bedroom and sprawled on
the bed, surrounded by her gear. I stalled by flipping through the
Hustler. “Why do they insist on showing nude women on the beach,
with sand all over their butts? I grew up near a beach, I can tell
you there's nothing in the world more uncomfortable than rubbing
frantically against someone covered in beach sand, and I'm reliably
informed it's a bitch to get out of you.”
She grabbed it away from me and opened it to
the centerfold. “First off, I want you to understand that nothing
you can do will bother Nicci. She will be pleased and flattered and
honored that you are willing to fight your fears and face the fur,
and the most inconsequential, timid little lick you can offer will
be orgasmic to her because she loves you, you asshole. But,” she
continued confidently, “I'm going to teach you how to do it
proper.” She picked up a Magic Marker and began drawing game plans
on the centerfold. “Okay, this is the target in question. Do you
jump at it, howling?”
“Hell no, I'd get the staple stuck in my
teeth!”
“Actually there are times of passion when
you do just that,” she said, ignoring me. ““Quickies, while you’re
driving, that sort of thing. But for the most part you need to
sneak up on it. It’s not a dick, it doesn’t like being yanked on
right away. Use anticipation to get her going before you even get
near it, like letting your car warm up first on cold days.” She
pointed out the vulva and drew little arrows towards the inner
thighs. “Stroke her here and here, and keep your hands moving all
the time. Light touches are usually best, they get the goosebumps
going. You can let the back of your hand or your knuckles brush
against her puss but don't try anything funny yet. When she starts
moving her hips back and forth it's time to go for the groceries,
but go down there real slow. Maintain eye contact as you do, it's
killer. When you get close, breathe on it first, soft and
hot.”“
I was starting to experience some discomfort
lying there, but I listened carefully, trying to ignore the gloss
that was making her lips sparkle in the lamplight, lamplight and
the way her shirt gapped open to reveal hints of soft, rounded
flesh.
Quickly sketching in some up and down
arrows, she turned the centerfold into a winning play. “Lick up and
down the lips on the outside, until they start to open up. Dart
your tongue between the lips every now and then, but do it
sparingly at first, then more as she gets hotter.”
“So far this sounds like what I do to her
anyway,” I said, trying to be a good student. Damn, this bed was
lumpy.
She beamed at me. “There you go, exactly.
Use your fingers, too. Once she starts moving her hips back and
forth, it means she wants you to lick harder and closer to her
clit, that’s this little part here.”
“I know where it is, thank you.”
“Just checking. Lick and suck around the top
of it but don’t lick towards the bottom ‘til she’s ready. That’ll
be when she’s moving her hips like a pop star trying to get under
your tongue. You know how the head of your dick gets all sensitive
and shit after you come? Her clit starts out that way, so go easy.
Here, try this.” She offered the Pocket Pud. I looked it
hesitantly. “What, should I rub it with tuna fish or something? Try
it.”
I held it up to my mouth but the situation
was just impossible. Did she really expect me to…? Looking up I
finally noticed the suppressed laughter in her eyes and so I bit
the thing, hard, and shook it like a terrier with a sock. She burst
out laughing and rolled on the bed, whooping. I added appropriate
growling noises and her hilarity redoubled, turning into a long and
painful shared belly laugh. At times our plastic friend became a
hairpiece, an armpit, an especially wide grin and a hand puppet.
She grabbed it away from me and gave it a few overly sensuous licks
herself, to my appreciative hoots. Then, eyes shining, she placed
it between her legs, held it in place and leaned back.
“Try it, Vince,” she said. Her eyes were
very large.
I was afraid to say anything so I rolled
over her leg until my face was just above her bonus bits and looked
up at her. She grinned down at me and wiggled my Pud. “You look
pretty good down there. 'We'll take the foreplay as read, dear.'“ I
leaned in and carefully touched the tip of my tongue to her new
clit, which was apparently the wrong move since she whacked me on
the side of my head. It was a bit disconcerting to see her pussy
slide sideways when she let go of one side, but she fixed it
quickly. “Not so fast, she hates that. Work the lips some.” I
shrugged mentally and ran my tongue up and down the rubbery
ridges.
At this point I would have paid cash money
for a picture of this.
“Now you can circle around the clit, but
don't lick hard on the underside of it, it'll still be too
sensitive. And you can alternate with occasional wide licks up the
whole thing, like you’re keeping an ice cream cone from dripping.”
She raised her hips up and down in counterpoint to my strokes and
to make me work to keep up with her, but I noticed a definite heat
rising up and I began my own game. I put my arms over her thighs
and pulled her to me while I pushed harder with my tongue, mashing
the Pud against her groin in small circles. A familiar, maddening
scent filled my nose, driving me wild. Her breath was becoming
ragged, and she seemed to be holding her genital mask much tighter
against herself than was strictly necessary. “Now… now lick it
harder, and harder, keep circling around it and… ahhh… graze it a
bit with your teeth. Oh, Jesus…” I wasn't following her orders
anymore; I had gone on to post-graduate work. I took the rubbery
knob representing the button of love and bit hard for traction,
using my teeth and chin to grind the whole thing into Clary. She
let go of it and clutched at the front of her shirt with both hands
as she pushed hard against my jaws and moaned.
My neck and shoulders were aching and my
face muscles were strained tight, but there was no way in hell I
was stopping. Over Clary’s hot denim-covered mound I could see her
squeezing her tits through her shirt and throwing her head back and
forth, gasping and making little “ah, ah” cries. My own groin was
rubbing against the mattress; I was hoping desperately I wouldn’t
come, even though I desperately needed to. Finally she jerked hard
and cried out.
“Ohhhhhhh, god, I'm gonna—”
She did, and I discovered what it was like
to ride a roller coaster by the teeth. Pinching her nipples hard
Clary ground her quasi-cunt into my face, nearly breaking my nose
with her rocking spasms as she bucked again and again. Finally she
pushed me away and rolled over on her front, breathing heavily. I
stayed face down too, since I had more to hide. After a time she
lifted her head up and smiled at me with a slightly dazed
expression. “By George,” she said raggedly. “I think you've got
it.”
I rolled over and rubbed at the back of my
neck. “It doesn't half wear out your jaw, does it,” I said. My
erection was extremely obvious to both of us; we both ignored
it.