Plain Jane & Nerd Jim Grow Up

Two years passed since Jim and Jane had last spoken. He ended their final long distance telephone conversation, tears sliding out of both their eyes, with a shaky "Goodbye." They had resolved that distance was making their relationship expensive. Two hour conversations over thousands of miles. And it impeded their freedom. They were young and needed to be bold and go out into the world and take some chances. It wasn't real for them to be together anymore. They weren't together anymore.

Their year and a half relationship had been warm and adventurous and sexy. By the end of their senior year they had trusted each other implicitly, which opened them up to all types of play, from the nearly religious experience of the most intimate embrace, love saturated passion, to the most perverse of positions and places to play and places to penetrate.

During that year and a half, both blossomed into most attractive adults. Jane, with the help of her remarkable holistic gynecologist, Dr. Anderson, had lost the ugly duckling glasses and bent posture, and revealed her pretty face and her tall, graceful body. The remarkable metamorphosis occurred at the beginning of their relationship, and by its end her face and body had become smoother, more self-confident then ever through her study of modern dance as well as the consistent love she received from Jim.

Jim, despite the nerd disguise, the uncool clothes and the big black framed glasses, was also gaining confidence in himself, and his big body and face became more defined, more attractive. Before their relationship, only Jane's mother seemed to give him props for his presence, his looks and his abilities. He never felt right talking to people, the conversations never flowed, except with her. By the end, both Jane and her mother were making him feel great about himself. And he found himself to be charming in nearly every situation he was in. The inner strength he found through his relationships with Jane via heart felt love, and her mother via deep friendship actually made him resilient. He found out how strong he was when faced with the end of his and Jane's wonderful relationship.

Their love had never been severed except for the distance. Pure chance broke them apart, not a wish to be separated. He was staying home to go to University, and she was off at a dance school and at a college in Manhattan, NYC. And the post split remnants of their love settled deep into their consciousness. What the remnants became were expectations. His were eventually fulfilled. And more and more his Clark Kent vulnerability behind the black horn rimmed glasses presenting himself to the world as a nerd of limited sexual appeal was being shucked off for Superman, a young man of great strength and confidence. The scholarship he needed to supplement the cost of his classes kept him busy with the wrestling team at University, which kept his body in peak shape.

Although twenty years difference in age separated him and his current lover, he felt great confidence in his relationship with her. Sometimes she was dominant, but he could dominate too. With their great respect for each other despite him being half her age, it all equaled out.

Jane's attitude was Jim's opposite. She had become passive, vulnerable, accident prone. Her relationships became skirmishes. She would be fascinated by a young man, giving herself over to his seduction. She enjoyed sharing her chambers with him. She enjoyed the company. These young men seduced her, disrobed her, entered inside. It was a frenzy of discovery, discarding the outer layers of flirtation and courtship in order to find what was hidden. Blind passion. Naked hard young flesh daggers pointing to her to pierce her. She would guide each dagger inside. Each young man would pump his straining flesh against her and deep inside her where it popped, releasing the scalding brew. They would separate. He wasn't inside her. And they slept. It wasn't enough. If they stayed together, time would strain expectations. He wasn't there for her, but for his release. She was his repository. At least that's what she felt. So many of the young men just didn't care or want to care how she felt. She met men who fought her every move to communicate with them, to have them respond beyond the bedroom. She met men who she found wild and exciting but learned that though she may have been desirable at the start, ultimately she was to them a bag of flesh to be stabbed, kicked and shoved aside. She found herself in several abusive relationships, the most current one just ending after lasting over a year.

It was two years to the night since Jane and Jim had their final phone conversation when Jim and his friend Harry stepped into the small Tribeca coffeehouse and saw Jane standing beside the stage clutching a manuscript against her chest. Jim remembered that chest, those big soft lovely breasts, the nipples he would tease with his tongue until they glowed in the candle light, a quarter inch long and taut. He remembered her breasts as pillows accommodating his cheeks as he nestled his face against her. He looked up into her eyes.

She couldn't believe it was him. He looked handsome standing in the back of the coffeehouse staring at her. And here she was going to read her poems. She thought she'd been nervous before she saw him! She caught his smile like he had tossed it from deep inside. She smiled at him, and it all clicked. She stood at the podium, spread the poem before her and began to read. When she glanced from the page to give the line of poetry out to the public, she kept getting caught. His smile, his intense gaze, despite those thick glasses affixed to his nose, kept catching the drift of her eyes trying to spread her poem out to the whole audience.

He could see she'd lost her posture. She was the most radiantly healthy when they'd said their good-byes, her flesh leaner, her movement more lithe and graceful. Her grace of movement was breathtaking. In the two years of separation, an invisible weight had taken its toll, and she didn't stand so tall anymore. Maturity kept her from returning to the full slouch her lack of self-worth had provided during her adolescence, but the effect was similar. She had become Plain Jane again. He could see she needed him. Not as a lover. She needed him for guidance.

Her poetry was lovely and graceful. He loved the one in which two lovers in the park whispered to each other endearments, but instead of describing their partner's attributes, they described visions of the park. It was so lovely and graceful it broke his heart. He'd enjoyed the many private poetry readings in her bedroom, and her poetry had gotten better since she'd last recited to him. In fact he thought her poetry had reached the realm of greatness. He'd never been so lost in the visions she spoke. He felt that old love for her in his heart.

Jim felt the full force of guilt. As the pangs of love lost and found came over him for the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, he knew he needed to have the strength to resist. It would be too complicated to return to an ongoing relationship. He couldn't open up to her completely, and their relationship had been built on honesty and trust. He retreated from her beautiful mind and returned to her damaged body. Along with her unhealthy posture, her eyes seemed distracted, not steady. Skittish. Afraid she would have to present herself.

She'd slowly sunk herself into a self-deprecating morass. The past year had only thickened it. Frank.

Jane should have seen it coming. It was a pattern. She should have seen it when she thought of where they had met.

A bar. A meat market. It was where her crowd would hang out. The publishing crowd. A nice upper east side bar, with foliage and soft rock and soft stools on which to have found new company while leaning on the third drink.

Frank had saddled up to Jane's empty stool halfway through the night. Her inebriation was just becoming apparent. She got louder and not in control, not reserved, which was more her character. The two new lovers played loose and free with glances, and arms would contact the other body via the large gestures they were using to talk. Accidentally on purpose sort of thing. The flirting game had begun in earnest.

By the time the lights burned the late night dark bar patrons wide irises to announce it was time for them to leave, Frank and Jane's lips sucked their hard liquor and nicotine saturated tongues into each other's mouth. Frank stood in front of Jane's spread legs as she sat on her high stool, pushing his slowly ascending flesh snake against the responsive top of her pussy, the keystone to what he hoped would be its new snake hole. More than one patron was annoyed by the blatant display of affection. They needed to move on to private quarters to bare their desires.

Arm in arm they leaned against each other, making the walk into the warm night a clumsy one. She only lived a couple blocks away, but found herself pulled into a cab by Frank. They raced past the sea of stragglers pouring onto the street who had been awaiting their turn for escape.

As they bounced down Park Avenue for the ten or so miles to his place, they resumed their aggressive kissing. His strong hand held her breast. His thumb sought the nub through her clothes. Jane undid the top buttons of her blouse. His hand slid inside, under her bra cup and weighed and squeezed her full soft breast, fingers pulling and twisting her nipple. Intoxicated by his manipulations along with the several drinks, she rubbed her hand against the unfurling snake encumbered by cotton shorts. She solved this encumbrance by unzipping him and lifting his hot hard flesh out into the air of the back seat of the cab. She grabbed his hot snake and pulled and pulled and pulled, causing Frank's cock to gain maximum girth and extension. He groaned into her mouth. One hand still occupied by her breast, he slipped his other hand under her skirt, along her naked thigh. He rubbed his fingers along the slit he felt through her silk panties, then slipped under them to let his fingers explore her slippery depths. His thumb found the rising little bit of flesh above her slit and tapped it. She released her mouth from his and gave out a deep groan.

With a sly, inebriated smile, she lowered her mouth until her lips kissed the purple helmet of his engorged dagger. She licked it and then impaled her mouth on it. Jane had learned from Jim's mighty club to take a cock deep into her throat. This one wasn't the depth finder of Jim's, so she hardly gagged when she took it all the way in. Her lips sliding firmly up and down, her tongue dancing around it, then her lips fucking it again gave him the exquisite friction he needed. His breath came quicker. He was giving her no warning of his imminent ejaculation, but she could tell. Her hand, gingerly tossing his balls in their sac, felt them tighten up, his dagger vibrated, and she felt the pulse of cum as it sprayed into her mouth. She swallowed what she could, a bitter, drunken brew, and let some of the sticky fluid drip onto his shorts.

When the cab slowed to a stop, Jane quickly arose and buttoned up. Frank removed his hands from her breast and her cunny just as quickly if not quicker. In one motion he pushed the softening meat into his fly and zipped and slid his hand around to his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. The walleyed cab driver, hours into his shift, still managed a seamy smile as he took the money from the newly sapped man.

Taking her hand, he dragged her up the stoop, through the door of the row house apartment building, up the dark stairs to the second floor. He struggled with his keys until, victorious despite Jane's incredibly sensuous licking of his ear, he turned the lock.

Having closed and locked the door behind him, he pulled her into the dark bedroom where she fell on her back onto the all too narrow bed. He pushed her skirt up above her hips and her panties down over her shoes and proceeded to lick her into a frenzy. Her knees lifted high as she opened herself completely to him. Her pelvis rocked her pussy into his face. His two fingers slid deep inside and out of her pussy, while his tongue set to work along its lips down to the ridge between it and her asshole, circled around the crinkled little hole. The tongue reversed directions, slowly licking her labia and returning to the clit. As he teased and sucked her engorged morsel of flesh, she was reaching a crescendo. Her full sighs resonated in the small bed chamber, no longer needing to be quieted.

Removing his fingers and tongue from her pleasure trough made her nearly cry. He quickly removed his clothing and joined her on the bed. His legs straddled her head. His limp worm dangled inches above her lips, and his balls brushed her forehead. When his fingers and tongue and lips returned to pleasing her pussy, she hummed with approval. She took his loose melted tube of flesh in her hand, pulling it to her tongue. It wouldn't grow. The snake was inert. Slowly the pleasure he was giving her below was tapering off. It stopped as he relaxed beside her, his breath steady on her thigh. He had passed out. So close. So close. Her last sigh was one of frustration. She succumbed to the alcohol in her kidneys, relieving herself in the adjacent bathroom. She made it back to his bed before the alcohol in her bloodstream took effect, and she passed out, too.

Not a promising start, but things improved the next morning. When she awoke on the strange bed, she was greeted by a smiling face and a mug of hot coffee. The face was sagging from Frank's hangover, but it was still handsome. The long disheveled blond hair framed his face with a subtle golden aura. His eyes were large and blue, and even if the blue was in the middle of an off white with red threads, she enjoyed looking at them and into them. Something sad and hurt was in those eyes. Her sight was lost in his. She sat up on the bed to retrieve the hot bitter but tasty coffee. She sipped and stared and sipped and stared. They were discovering each other, taking in each other's facades and digging deeper. Were these eyes, still strange and new, worth getting to know?

"You're very pretty," said Frank. His voice was quiet but still resonant like a stage whisper. There was surprise in it.

"You too," said Jane with a soft smile. He laughed.

She followed him to the kitchen. Her blouse was open and she was naked under her skirt when she sat at the cold metal card table that served as his kitchen table, slowly warming the cold metal chair. The tattered white terry robe he wore was open to his nakedness. They talked quietly, and as they talked there was a quiet sexiness in the air. Each would glance down to study what bit of nakedness escaped the indiscreet cloth. Soft rounded flesh and nipple. Harder flesh with a trace of hair leading down the firm abdomen to...They both enjoyed their views. But they mostly enjoyed their conversations. They spent hours over several cups of cooling coffee getting to know each other.

Mostly Jane got to know Frank. Another clue she should have taken to heart. He was his most popular subject. But she found him exciting to know. Stimulating to the head, the heart and the loins.

Perhaps to get his engines revved he asked her about her life. She told him she was going to be a junior studying literature if the publishing house she worked for would provide the support she needed. She entered their doors a little while before, as a receptionist, in hopes of getting full benefits from a work study program and of moving up in the business. She had wanted to study dance too, but not enough to starve. She wouldn't have time. Besides she didn't seem to like it and/or she wasn't so good at it anymore.

Jane didn't want to take the conversation into uncomfortable territory, the territory of self-deprecation. So she swung it his way, and he took the hook. By the end of the conversation, two to three hours later, Frank had provided her with a complete autobiography. From a small city in Kentucky which he found suffocating in both the provincial aspects and the disastrous home life, he made enough trouble to be put into a parochial school back east. A good teacher became a mentor, encouraging his talent as a story writer. Once graduated and entering college he lived his life in the city while making passing grades. He was in search of adventures, of something to write about. He told Jane how much he loved the city and its extremes. He hung out with the bums and junkies, the lowest of the low, the people whose lives were forever balanced on the edge of oblivion, and how a couple of them fell in and died. He hung out with the affluent, who were just as twisted and inebriated as the great unwashed, only cleaner. He would accompany his rich friends all over the world, Europe, North Africa, Mexico, pursuing a drug and alcohol stupor with as much drive as the poor crazy junkies in the Bowery. Only the background changed, albeit spectacularly. Throughout his adventures he clung to fellow artists. He enjoyed their intellectual inebriation thoroughly. He found them in both worlds, the bum and the affluent, though in the affluent world they were more respected, successful artists.

She could tell he was a wild young man. But his words were so quietly and gently uttered that she was falling in love. She wanted this man who was both exciting and warm. Her sexual need for him was not overwhelming but was thrilling. Dampness and a gentle throbbing in her cunny perfumed the air. But it was more background to their conversation than a need to embrace her libido by embracing him. Besides they were both a little sick from their drinking the night before. She decided she needed to go home and bathe and sleep in her own bed and return if he wanted.

They made a date for the following evening, Sunday night.

Frank brought the blanket up to the roof of his row house along with the chilled cabernet sauvignon. Jane brought the corned beef sandwiches, the coleslaw and chips in a picnic basket. As they enjoyed the sandwiches and poured the cold wine into plastic cups and down their throats, they enjoyed the glances. He studied her pretty face, her lean long neck, her breasts pressed against the shear white blouse, her nipples becoming more excited, pushing harder against the fabric. She studied his soft facial features, especially the warm blue eyes and the plump almost feminine lips. She enjoyed his strong shoulders under the tight t-shirt and his defined chest and flat abdomen and his snake beginning to press against his tight white shorts. He studied her long legs stretched open on either side of his legs, the smooth muscles, and how they led up to the vortex of her panties peaking out from the edge of her short white skirt hinting at the dampening and swelling pussy lips underneath.

He leaned forward to kiss her. For a long voluptuous moment the sucking in of lips and the tangle of tongues were their only physical contact. A sudden need for more made his big thick hands grab hold of her hips, his fingers pushing deep into the flesh of her ass as he pulled her loins onto his. Pushing and releasing her onto him at the physical apex of pleasure, his hardening mound of flesh was sliding between her hot damp lower lips in a dry hump. Their upper lips still clung together as they moaned into each other's mouths.

When their lips separated and he gently lowered her onto her back, he said with a smile, "Now where were we?"

He took hold of her panties, slipping them off when Jane lifted her derriere. Kneeling between her legs, he massaged their graceful length with his hands, his fingers slowly closing in on the vertex point, her hungry cunny. Kissing her just below the massaging hands, his lips moved all the way up those legs. Once the tip of his fingers touched the lips of her cunny she moaned and opened her legs and thus her cunny lips even more for his touch. Fingertips played at the entrance, feeling the liquid of her pleasure secrete around them, until the slow ascent of his mouth finally reached the top point.