Erotica for a Real Woman

It was a dark and stormy evening. Jennifer watched the drops of water hit the window in an apparently random array. She blew a puff of warm air against the glass and attempted to draw shapes, constellations, letters, anything between the drops but nothing appeared. Jennifer wiped the glass clean with her folded napkin, inhaled deeply, and settled into the center of her seat. It was 6:28.

She liked 6:30. It was the perfect time for a first date, the hands of her watch aligning perfectly. Noon was also a good time but lunch dates were difficult to accommodate and other times such as 3:15 or 7:45 were too oddly timed and they didn’t quite line up the same way. No, 6:30 was best.

The door opened and Jennifer caught her breath. Strikingly handsome with a jaw cut like a solved Rubix cube, he strode toward her purposefully, his feet never landing on a single crack in the floor tiles. Could this be…?

“Hi, Jennifer, I’m David,” he smiled. Her stomach fluttered a little.  “Nice to finally meet you.”

She smiled but before she could say more, the server approached. “What’ll you have to drink?”

“Water and a Black Butte Porter, please,” replied Jennifer.

“I’m an IPA guy. I’ll have the Little Sumpin’ Sumpin’ with a lemon wedge, and a glass of water as well,” offered David.

After the server left, Jennifer leaned forward. “Lemon wedge, huh? That’s pretty bold.”

“Is it?”

“Sure, you know they’re teeming with germs. They never wash the peel before cutting and they’re left in conditions that encourage bacteria propagation.”

David smiled benignly. “Excellent points, but the pH of the lemon acid has been proven highly effective as an anti-bacterial, as well as killing cholera and leptospirosis bacteria.”

Jennifer’s blood rushed to both her face and her nether regions, the former in mild embarrassment and the latter in the beginnings of arousal. David knew his germs. What else did he know?

They chatted casually, discussing their friends and interests in common. Jennifer noticed when he excused himself to wash his hands before dinner, he was gone enough time to scrub the minimum requisite 30 seconds. She misted her hands with sanitizer. David returned as she was arranging her cutlery.

“Right angle girl, huh?”

She smiled sheepishly. “It just looks tidier.”

David reached across to cover her hand with his warmer one. “Are you tidy with…” he paused meaningfully, capturing her eyes with his own, “everything?”

Jennifer’s skin flushed and pulled her hand back as the server brought their food and the pregnant moment passed as they resumed their lighthearted conversation. Both worked in similar fields in the sciences, were occasional road warriors, and enjoyed the art of the bad movie as well as the skill of an excellent one.

Too soon, dinner was over. Through the strength of Jennifer’s and David’s combined wills, the dinner check never appeared, which would have created potentially uncomfortable questions about who was to pay, chivalry, and gender roles. Instead, when they finished their meal, they were free to leave.

David interlaced his fingers with hers as he walked with her through the crowd of waiting diners, striding with the purpose of an icebreaker moving to its arctic base. Moving her forward through the door, he placed his hand lightly on the small of her back, creating an electric shock that arced and ricocheted to each finger, toe, nipple, and her hot, molten center.

They walked outside, continuing their conversation in the perfectly temperate evening, hands lightly touching. Jennifer chewed the inside corner of her mouth lightly as they approached the end of the restaurant district. “Would you like to grab a cup of coffee or something before calling it a night?”

David raised his eyebrows slightly and grinned. “My place is around the corner if that would work. Closer than heading back.”

Jennifer’s eyes danced with amusement. “Will you also be showing me your etchings?”

“Nonsense,” David chuckled. “I’m actually a part-time writer, not an illustrator.”

They entered his 18^th story flat with broad windows over-looking the cityscape. She walked to the window, dropping her jacket on the couch behind her. “What a magnificent view!” she exclaimed as he walked in, bearing two steaming cups.

“Yes,” he said in low tones, “it is,” leaving no question about what he was admiring.

Jennifer turned and took both cups from his hands and set them on the conveniently nearby table as she approached him. Aided by her 6-inch heels, she placed her hands on his smooth cheeks to bring his lips closer to her softer ones. As their mouths locked, Jennifer was overcome, forgetting in that moment all thoughts of the number of germs moving during this single exchange of fluids.

She sucked his earlobe into her mouth and moaned her pleasure as his hands caressed her back, sliding higher to rub against her neck. They were both lost in the moment of locating and stimulating each other’s erogenous zones.

His tongue slid across her collarbone, leaving a warm trail that immediately cooled leaving her with a faint chill. David’s lips crossed her center and drew the tip of his rough tongue over the other side of her collarbone. Jennifer closed her eyes in ecstasy, imagining her body as a graph and his tongue mapping the grid. She sighed inwardly in bliss: Parallelism. This man knew his stuff.

David took her hand and pulled her to standing. Sliding his hand up her shoulder to her neck the talented fingers of a single hand swiftly untied the Gordian knot holding her wrap dress in place. In a waterfall of fabric Jennifer’s dress cascaded down her body, revealing her heaving bosoms and narrow waist, as it fell into a pool at their feet. She gasped.

“No one has ever untied that before!”

Awash with passion, Jennifer pushed his shoulder until his knees buckled against the edge of the couch. Her hand reached down to David’s core to unleash his throbbing manhood from its denim prison. Wrapping her deft fingers around his powerful staff, she stroked: one, two, three, four, pause. One, two, three, four, pause. One, two, three… “Stop,” David rasped, “I’m going to…I can’t…”

“Shhh,”Jennifer whispered. “You’ll ruin the pattern.”

David’s back arched in tortured delight as he placed his hand over hers. “No! What I mean is…”

Jennifer took an extra-long pause and looked into his eyes. “Yes?”

He took a shuddering breath in an attempt for control. “Fives. It needs to be in fives. Please.”

She smiled. “We will. That’s later. But for now…” Jennifer stood and disrobed David, removing first his shirt and then pants. She folded his clothes exactly as she was taught that one summer she worked at The Gap. As she stood, she shimmed out of her matching lingerie set and she and David mutually appraised each other. David’s eyes skimmed her body appreciatively, coming to rest at her mound of Venus.

“Shaved?” he gasped.

Jennifer nodded timidly, moving to lie next to him. “The razor slipped while shaving and left an uneven line so it was easier to remove it all. Is that okay?”

“Wonderful,” he breathed in ecstasy, reaching up to bring her closer to his well-defined pectoral muscles as his arms slid down her smooth. “It’s much easier to regrow into patterns than to shave them out.” David plunged two fingers into her moist furnace and groaned. “You’re so slick,” he muttered.

Jennifer squirmed in ecstasy. “I’m…uh…really well-hydrated…it…aaah!...helps with…squalene hydrocarbon…sigh…production.”

David shuddered slightly, her words subconsciously reminding him of his earliest erotic experiences as a teenager, being sexually rewarded by his tutor every time he correctly answered a question about the periodic table. He was almost unbearably aroused and needed to bond his molecules to hers. He slid his body across her, creating delightful friction. “I need to be in you,” he growled, “now.”

Jennifer’s pupils dilated with the intensity of her arousal and she nodded. “I have protection in there,” she gestured to her satchel.

He extended his muscular torso across the couch, muscles rippling over his ribcage, and opened her purse. “It looks like a teabag box,” he half-inquired, bemusedly.

“No, no,” Jennifer reached up, kissing him on his craggy jawline as she went. “I don’t do this often so I like to be prepared.” She reached his ear and traced the cartilage with the edge of her tongue. “They’re in order by size and color.”

“Color?”

“Yes. ROY G BIV. You know…” With every word Jennifer took her mouth on a journey lower. “Red…orange…yellow…” Her tongue swirled around his nipple. “Green…blue…” David shivered and devoted his last vestiges of awareness and control to selecting carefully.

“Got it.” He slid the condom over his pulsating staff of manliness and hovered over her.

Jennifer’s eyes widened as she got her first clear view of his throbbing rod. “No,” she whispered astounded. “Not…the orange condom!”

David grinned with feral delight as he plunged into her with a single stroke, aided by the viscosity of the fluid coating her tight channel, making her most intimate place resemble a shark’s liver in only this single way.

She inhaled sharply as their shared lust was consummated. “Wait!” she called out pushing on his shoulders firmly and squirming side to side. David slowed. “Wha…?”

Jennifer pushed his shoulder, wrapped a smooth leg around his, and lifted her hip to roll David over onto his back. She placed her palms flat on his firm chest and straddled him, muscular thighs on either side of his hips.

“Fives, remember?” She smiled wickedly, hips thrusting to this new rhythm as they rode the tide of ecstasy together.