The Mammoth Book of Short Erotic Novels (41 page)

I sat there. I got up, and followed. The door was unlocked, and I went in. Alexia was sitting on the toilet; she glanced up at me. She smiled and said, “You.” I could hear the stream
of her urine. I sat on the floor, cross-legged.

“You’re bold,” she said.

“The door was unlocked.”

“There
is
no lock.”

“I couldn’t resist.”

She stood up. “OK, Mr Bold. Clean me.”

“With my mouth?”

“
Ab
solutely not.”

I would’ve done it with my mouth, if she’d asked. I took a wad of toilet paper, and wiped her cunt. She pulled her panties up.

“I have to go, too,” I said.

“Then I get to watch,” she said. “
Quid pro quo
.”

She took my place on the floor; I stood in front of the toilet, took my cock out, and started to go.

Alexia made a weird sound. She moved, snagged my cock, and put her mouth before it, drinking my urine; what she didn’t get flowed out of her mouth, down her chin, and into the bowl. I
liked the sound this made. I breathed hard; it was an experience in itself watching her drink from me.

She pressed her face to my leg. “Nicky, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself,” she said, softly. “Now you know my fetish. OK, I’m weird. You’ll never love
me.”

“I could love you,” I said.

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“Will you kiss me, to prove it?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

She stood, and we kissed, and I tasted her – and me.

“I want to make love to you,” I said.

“No, I can’t,” she said.

Alexia left the bathroom and sat on the edge of her bed. I sat next to her; we both fell back. It was a nice, big, comfortable bed, the kind of bed I liked; the kind of bed I didn’t
have.

“It’s late,” she said, moving away from me. “I’m a little drunk.”

“Me, too,” I said.

“You can stay here,” she said, “if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’d like it, too,” she said, standing. “I’m going to turn the light off.”

“OK.”

In the dark, I saw her silhouette; she was removing her clothes. I also took my clothes off, and got under the covers. She joined me; we didn’t touch. My hand went to her body. She was
still wearing her bra and panties. I moved closer to her, kissed her.

“I don’t think I want to screw,” she said.

“OK,” I said.

“I mean, I’m not sure if I can.”

“OK.”

“I’m not sure if I’m in the right frame of mind.”

“OK.”

“It’s not
OK
,” she said. “You don’t understand, you don’t know.”

“I
want
to,” I said.

“I know you do.”

“Alexia,” I said.

“It’s nice having you in my bed,” she said.

“It’s nice to be in a bed with someone.” She placed her head on my chest, and then a hand, playing with the hair. We were quiet, touching each other. Her hand moved down, and
grasped my cock.

“This is nice,” she said.

“Yes,” I said, “it is.”

“Nice . . .”

I kissed her on the head.

“I know,” she said, and, “I’m twenty-eight years old.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still a virgin.”

I laughed, after a moment.

“This is true,” she said.

“Now
who
is giving
who
a line?”

She let go of my cock. “Nicky, listen. I’m Jewish. I’m not a nice Jewish girl, but I’m Jewish and a virgin. I come from a really hard-ass strict Jewish family, even
though, like I said, well, I made up my mind years ago that I would save myself for my husband, because some day I plan to marry a nice Jewish man, I mean my family won’t have it any other
way. And this man will expect me to be a virgin.”

“I see.”

“No you don’t see,” she said. “I don’t expect you to understand. Other men haven’t. Like I said, I’m twenty-eight. This doesn’t mean I’m
sexual.
Ob
viously I’m sexual, and I have fetishes. I’m really pretty basic in that matter – I have a pee fetish, and a butt fetish. I mean, I’m a virgin,
vaginally
, but I like having sex in my butt.”

Things started to come together for me – the pool stick remark, her living close to the bar she wanted to go to. “You lured me here,” I said, “from the bar.”

“Of course. I’m terribly attracted to you. I want you. I want you inside me. But I want more than a fuck-buddy. I had a fuck-buddy for a while, for a few months: it was just sex,
nothing more. I didn’t like it. I mean, it was OK, but it wasn’t me. It was a different me.”

“He fucked you in the ass?”

“Yes. I don’t know if he liked it that much. Some men do, some don’t.” I’d only had anal sex with a woman once, and I think I was nineteen or twenty.

“I want you to fuck me,” Alexia said, “but I’m looking for more than just fucking.”

“I’m not a nice Jewish boy.”

“I’m not looking for a husband. I’ll do that in my thirties, maybe my forties. I’m looking for companionship, closeness, a little love. Devotion, all that.”

“Sounds nice,” I said.

“Yes. It sounds – it sounds nice.” She took her panties off. “I’d like you to fuck me,” she said. “I want you to.”

“I don’t have a condom.” I felt stupid.

“I’m not going to get pregnant this way,” she said.

Lubricant?” I asked, thinking the last time I’d done this, I had to use a lot of petroleum jelly.

“Spit is fine,” Alexia said. She spit into her hand, put her hand between her ass-cheeks. She spit into her hand again, and rubbed the saliva over my cock. “I’m getting
impatient,” she said.

I moved on top of her, feeling inexpert. Alexia reached back, took my cock, and guided me into her ass – where it slid in just fine, without hesitation or resistance. The warmth of her
interior sent a tingle up my body and soul. Alexia whispered, “Oh boy,” and pushed her rear up, hard, slamming into my pelvis. I looked down at the streak in her hair, which was
scattered about the back of her neck and on the bed with the rest of her hair. I swear she had an orgasm, I wasn’t sure, but mine came quickly, and it was a lot; I emptied myself inside
her.

We lay next to each other, and Alexia commented on the amount of semen I’d gushed out, that she liked how it felt up her ass, and coming out her ass.

She touched and played with my cock and balls, and soon I was hard again. She got on top of me. “This position is always tricky,” she said, sitting down on my cock and sliding it in.
She leaned forward to kiss me, and it popped out, covered in semen from that first ejaculation. Alexia giggled, and put my cock back in her. I reached for the light. “What are you
doing?” she said.

“I want to see you.”

“I like the light off.”

“OK.”

“Oh, turn it on if you want.”

I did. She still wore her bra; her hair was a mess. I reached to unclasp her bra and she pushed my hand away; my cock slipped out of her.

“Let’s try it like this,” I said, gently pushing her off me and onto her back. I put her legs on my shoulders; I didn’t need her help to find my way in. I was deep in her
now.

“I like this,” she said.

“I can kiss you,” I said, and did.

“Kiss me more.”

I did.

“Fuck me harder.”

I did, and I came inside her again.

“I have to piss,” I said to her. “Do you want it?”

She made a noise, reached up and bit my right nipple, hard.

“Ouch,” I said.

I took her hand, pulling her from the bed, and took her to the bathroom, where she sat before the toilet as I urinated. She drank just about all of it. Then she sucked and licked at my cock for
a while, eyes closed.

We went back to bed, in each other’s arms, and fell asleep.

I woke up, the next morning, with Alexia messing around with my ass. She had her face down there – I was lying sideways – licking from my balls to my crack. I’m not sure how
long she’d been doing this, but it was a nice thing to wake up to. She pushed me onto to my stomach, spreading my buttocks, a light finger on my sphincter, then a tongue. She licked it a bit,
asked me if I liked that. I did, of course – “Yes,” I said.

She said, “I like it too,” and licked more, harder this time, pushing the tip of her tongue into me like a thirsty animal at a waterhole. I felt saliva roll down onto my balls
– a funny, ticklish feeling. She started to suck, making sounds that I can only describe as pleasantly perverse. She did this for the good part of an hour, as I lay there in ecstasy, having
discovered a new world. She was still making wicked sucking sounds, and there was a soft hum from the back of her throat.

She turned me over, and sucked on my cock for a bit. “My mouth is getting tired,” she said. “Can you fuck me?”

She was on her hands and knees, and I took her from behind. I grabbed her hips, and slammed myself inside and out of her. I wanted to come in her mouth: this image was in my head. I told her
this. She turned around and took me in her mouth, and I came.

And that’s how I ended my period of celibacy.

I didn’t see Alexia again for over a week. We played phone tag, then she stopped calling, and she didn’t come to class (it was a once-a-week thing). I drove to her
place; her car was there, but no one answered the door.

The next morning, she answered her phone.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

“Where you been?”

“Nowhere,” she said.

“I was worried.”

“Were you?”

“Yes.”

“You really were?”

“Yes.”

“That’s sweet,” she said.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing really,” she said. “I’ve been depressed.”

“Depressed?”

“I get that way sometimes.”

“About what?”

“This and that.”

“I see.”

“Don’t you ever get depressed?” she asked.

“Well, yes,” I said.

“When I get depressed, I get depressed big,” she said.

“But you’re OK?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I’m OK.”

She didn’t sound OK.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” I said.

“You have? I’ve been thinking a lot about you. What’ve you been thinking about?”

“You,” I said, “and your ass; how I’d like to be fucking you, how I’d like to lick your ass like you did mine. I’ve never done that to anyone
before.”

“I wonder about this,” she said.

“What?”

“You could come over,” she said.

“When?”

“Now.”

I rushed over.

Alexia was wearing a thick, terry-cloth robe, no glasses. We immediately embraced. Her body felt warm and nice.

“Do you want something to eat?” she asked. “I was going to make grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“I love grilled cheese sandwiches.”

I sat in her small kitchen and watched her cook. We ate the sandwiches in the living room.

“We should’ve gotten together again sooner,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“What’ve you been doing?”

“Writing.”

“Anything good?”

“I don’t know. Another novel.”

“About?”

I smiled. “This and that.”

“So be it.”

“Essays,” I said. “I’ve been writing essays lately for
The USA Viewpoint
.”

“Really. That’s a big magazine, isn’t it?”

“I think so. They pay well.”

“What do you write?”

“Opinions, views – viewpoints!”

“Your look at the nation.”

“And the world.”

“I should be impressed,” she said.

“You’re not impressed?”

“I’m impressed,” she said. “But I’m more impressed with what you want to do with that mouth and tongue. Did you mean what you said? You want to get nasty with my
butt?”

“
Very
,” I said.

She took my hand, led me to the bedroom. She removed her robe, was naked underneath. I looked at the dark, thick bush of pubic hair between her legs, something I hadn’t noticed the last
time. Alexia was on her stomach, spread-eagled. I didn’t waste time getting to work on her, finding her puckered asshole and going to work at it with my tongue. Alexia seemed to enjoy my
effort, wiggling her hips back and forth. I reached to touch her cunt, thinking she’d like this, but she told me not to touch it, was very adamant about that. I continued to lick and suck,
and then she touched herself, and she came. I moved up, my cock out now, my pants down to my ankles, and entered her.

We fucked for the rest of the night, and I stayed there. I stayed there for several days, engulfed in nothing but nasty sex, fucking her in the ass, pissing in her mouth, her face buried in my
crotch and rear.

It was fun.

In between, we slept, ate, drank, and talked. It was the usual talk – the past, our lives, our families. She was very close to her family (as I’d already gathered) and wanted me to
meet her mother and father and two brothers, and some aunts and cousins tossed in. I nodded my head, but I was never comfortable meeting my lovers’ families, both in the act and the thought.
We parted, as people must part – I went back to my life, she did what she did.

She called two days later, a Sunday. I was working on the novel.

“My family is having a big dinner tonight,” she said. “Do you want to come over and meet them?”

“Well,” I said. “Not tonight, I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I’m on a roll.”

“You just don’t want to meet them,” Alexia said, an accusation. I guess she could hear it in my voice.

“I’d feel weird.”

“Why?”

“I just would.”

“It’d mean a lot to me,” she said. “I told my mother about you.”

“You did?
What
’
d
you tell her?”

“Not
that
,” she said. “Just that – I’d met this guy. I told her: ‘I met this great guy.’ ”

“Oh.” I felt like shit.

“You
are
my boyfriend,” she said, “right?”

“Yes,” I said. I liked the way it sounded.

“I’d like you to come.”

“How about next time?”

“Oh, fuck it,” she said, and hung up.

I tried calling her back. She didn’t answer.

She didn’t come to class the next time, either.

Over beers at the pub, I asked Barry McGinnis about her.