Plain Jane & Nerd Jim Grow Up

"Aaaah," she sighed and squirmed against his face. "Oooh," she continued when his tongue licked up and down the entrance to her pungent hole. Her sighs shortened and pulsed at the rate of his licks and his fingers plunging and pumping inside. When his fingers found her g-spot and his tongue her clit, her moan rumbled from her as her body vibrated. He could feel the pulse of her hole throbbing as she reached her first climax. It was a rapturous release. The substance of orgasm, the deep sighs, the warmth, the vibrations, the secretions, had been building inside for two days, and they all flooded out..

She squirmed away from his tongue glancing off her sensitized clit. Her hands pushed against the side of his chest to hint at her desire for the sixty-nine position. He was in tune with her gesture. "I think this is where we left off last night," she said, her voice thick with desire fulfilled and getting more fulfilled.

Quickly standing, he slipped out of his shorts and underpants. She watched his long thick snake bounce into the open air. His thighs straddled her head, careful that his knees wouldn't clamp her hair down onto the roof. Her tongue stuck out as far as possible to catch the underside of his cock as it bounced near her mouth.

Not quite comfortable enough, she moved from underneath him and eventually negotiated him onto his back, straddling his head with her thighs. As he gently resumed the licking of her cunny lips, she held his fully extended snake in her hand, her fist around it pumping up and down. Her breasts swung above the tip of the snake, slowly lowering until her nipples rubbed along the head of it and slid into its tiny mouth.

She moved to encircle his cock between her tits, to slide it between them and lick the tip when it neared her tongue. Frank had to sit up to continue his cunny licking. She was on her knees, her ass high, her pussy fully open at the apex of her position for Frank's burrowing tongue. His arms wrapped across her lower back. His fingers held her hips. He burrowed down. Her high round ass cheeks were pushed against his face. He continued to dive inside her with his tongue. His snake needed lubricant to make it more slippery between her breasts. She sunk it into her mouth, its head finding passage inside her throat.

Lucky for Frank that he was busy pleasuring Jane's hole, because her explosion lifted her head up off his throbbing snake so she could groan her exquisite pleasure, baying her moans into the sky saturated by the bloody sun huge on the horizon, its last shout of color before its descent and disappearance. If she hadn't released his cock at that moment, he could as easily have erupted. He turned around underneath her. His hands took hold of her hips, pulling them down. At last he was driving his hungry snake deep inside its new home. The walls made a narrow hole for its ascent. Sinking his fingers into the firm yet giving flesh of her ass cheeks through the muscles and to the bone, he took command of her movements despite her being on top. She let him. Starting with slow strokes, he was soon bouncing her fast on top. He was out of control, pummeling her with a passion that had short circuited his brain. After one quick jerk out and then in, he was frozen, penetrating her to the deepest part of her cunny and letting loose his seed. "Ahhhh," he rumbled.

His pressing deep inside, pushing his pubic bone against her pubic bone, was nearly enough to send her over the edge of her plateau. His cum burned inside her. His snake twitched with the effort to send it so deeply. All his consciousness was the spurting penis.

Taking control of the movements, she stuck her ass back far enough to slide his still pulsing cock against her clit. After three long hard slides, she was finding her third orgasm taking over. She pushed his snake back deeply into its hole. She lay her body across his. Her arms held him tight against her. Three times' the charm because it was a loving cum, shared and escalated by the sharing. His cock shivered and those inner walls of hers around it shivered, creating a counterpoint of movement, a mesh of pulses. The East Village air was full of the duet of moans and panting. She wished the moment would remain longer than it could.

Once gone though, it was the last experience of its kind in their relationship. It was the last time she would be with him when he was sober (or at least somewhat sober) or wasn't hung over. She still enjoyed his company most of the time, or must have. Why be with him a year otherwise? Often he would be a sloppy fuck and have even less complicity with her feelings, less giving and more getting. When they walked, she often found herself trailing behind him, trying to keep up with him. And if she ever wanted a change of direction, he would get furious. No matter how trivial, any discussion that dared to include argument was an attack on his humanity or his manliness more likely.

As the relationship progressed, she became more daring, trying to locate herself when she was in his company. Her challenges were beyond his composure. They would set him off, and he would strike at her. First these were abusive verbal outbursts. Then they became slaps and pushes. She would scream her pain, but it wouldn't sink in to his thick skull right away. He'd slap and push until he stopped suddenly, finally realizing what he'd done. He'd crumple to the floor at her feet. Disgusted and disgusting.

In this bad place, he would start conversations. It was as if he had a multiple personality. Crumpled at her feet, he would talk calmly about his writing, how the book was coming, plans for another book. He would slowly rise to his knees and ask her how her writing was coming. She found herself lost in conversation. He would be really interested in her work, and even in her opinion of his work, which was mostly positive, though occasional suggestions or confusions would enter. And he was shockingly okay with that. He would lap it up. But when he finally had lifted himself off the floor to be beside her, she didn't feel comfortable with the touches. Suddenly his mouth was between her thighs. He would lap her up, twisting and sucking her clit with his lips. She enjoyed the attention but from a distance. Occasionally a twinge, when he hit it just right, would thrill her. Then a dull fog would return. In some ways she hated him, and it was almost a rape he was performing. But he would pause in his attention to her pussy and say something odd, something funny, something cute or something wise, and a love would surge up in her. It was as if he was projecting it there. As if he was hypnotizing her. When her grotto was damp enough so he could slip in his semi-hard snake, he would fuck her slowly, fuck her talking into her ear. He would complement her on her beauty, tell her what excruciating pleasure she gave him, tell her how deeply he loved her and how much he needed her. She would reach to touch his scrotum, to gently fondle his balls which had the effect she wanted, hardening him. She began to like the friction inside her and wanted it stronger. She whispered back to him to fill her, to give it to her faster. It would quicken him. The friction was what he needed to trigger the eruption of his seed, which occurred before she could be sent into orgasm. The gray funk would return.

One day Jane finally fully entered that gray funk. The hatred was all encompassing. She took hold of it and lashed out at him. She kicked him away from her and pushed him to the door. His calm words wouldn't faze her. She set up a wall. "Get out!" was all she said until he was gone. She stayed at a gay male artist friend's place downtown for two days until the poetry reading, only stopping by her apartment to clean up and get the new number her roommate had left, having changed their number, as a note to her which also said she hoped Jane wouldn't fuck up again or she may need a new roommate. Jane didn't blame her. Jane only blamed her own stupid blind self.

As she finished the last of her poems, looking out at the audience and over the audience to Jim, Jane knew things were going to get better. She stood in front of the applause, the small audience not enough to generate a huge appreciation, but she felt the approval. What brought a smile to her face and a tear to her eye though was Jim's big presence. She slid through the crowd to stand in front of him.

"Hi," she said. "Good to see you." She took his hand and squeezed it. Not a shake, but a loving grasp. Somehow through the sensitivity of fingertips she wanted to convey how much she missed him and how really good it was to see him again. They hugged. They kissed the sides of their faces. When the lips touched, it was too much. His lips swiftly slipped across her lower lip before they let go of each other and stood and stared.

"Good to see you, too," he said, with a quick laugh, smiling, and tearing.

"You look good," she said.

"Thanks," he said. She looked good. She was always pretty. But he knew she could look better. In fact she looked less appealing to him at the moment than she had ever before. Haggard and thin and weak and distorted. He could see she didn't think much of how she looked and therefore he thought, though it would seem to be nasty, it would be better if he didn't return the compliment. There would be a moment, he hoped within a couple weeks or so, when he could tell her how good she looked, and it would mean something to her.

Standing beside the reunion of Jim and Jane, Harry looked on. Harry was Jim's good friend. They had met in an advanced mechanical engineering class at University. Jim had been lost in the class until Harry rescued him. They had then spent many nights over a year's time chatting about nothing and anythingsitting on the floor drunk or stoned or both after a long week of submitting themselves as good students.

Jim was staying in Harry's apartment while visiting the city. Harry, in his typical genius way, had found a cheap apartment which provided him with a living room, a bedroom and a study but was located at a busy noisy all night corner of the East Village only two blocks from Cooper Union, where he had won a scholarship, one of only three hundred chosen from thousands of applicants. Harry was a genius.

Jim enjoyed their friendship. Harry was funny, keeping Jim in stitches for hours. It was a wonder such a charming likable guy could have so few friends and no girlfriends, at least not of the sexual variety. Harry was a tall thin nerd, well settled behind his thick glasses and his haphazard wrinkled clothing. He did have women pursue him, but the ones he could easily catch never took his interest. It was as if he was searching for just the right girl. Some of those pursuers were attractive, and most would have been good company. Jim knew from being in their company. They were intelligent and perceptive. Harry never led them on, and their perceptiveness allowed them to see a relationship was not in the cards.

The funniest moments between Jim and Harry were when Harry was running off his pick up lines. In his college room he would be suave and seductive. He was on stage with Jim his only audience performing a fiction of a bar scene or a party scene or even a walking up to a woman and seducing her on the street scene. Harry took off his nerd glasses, his nerd disguise, and acted out the part of the eminent seducer. Don Juan or Casanova would have studied at his feet. Out in the real world however, he was afraid. He was confused. He didn't know what to say to a stranger which wouldn't make the stranger look at him as if he was nuts. He hid his charm behind the glasses when even with the glasses and the badly uneven shaven face and the messy hair and the clash of fabric which was his outfit, Jim knew Harry could have attracted anyone he wanted.

Staying at Harry's place was a gas. It was like those weekend gabfests happening day after day. He was glad and felt lucky to have met Harry for so many reasons. Not least of those reasons was Harry letting him stay in his apartment for as long as he wanted, or at least a couple months which was what he needed.

"I'm sorry Jane. Jane this is Harry, a good friend from school," Jim said.

Jane and Harry exchanged "hi's".

"You guys hungry?" asked Jane.

She led Jim by the hand and out into the quiet street, a couple blocks south and west of Canal near Tribeca. After a couple minutes, she was able to wave down a cab. They hurdled east and north to a Ukrainian coffee shop in the East Village for some delicious breakfast of French toast. They talked about what had transpired since they last talked. Jim's school and wrestling and working. Jane's extremely busy days of school studying and work. Harry chimed in even, telling her about graduating and the scholarship.

"Cooper Union!" Jane said, impressed. He was shy and quiet, but obviously intelligent. She noticed those moments like gems which would shine brightest against his quiet retreating nature when he would make a comment to Jim on the sly and be suddenly very charming. She liked this guy. He wasn't like anyone she had ever known. Jim was the closest comparison, and she could see the friendship they had making sense, but if she felt attracted, and at moments she did, she was surprised. Not that she had a type exactly, maybe more choosing who she wouldn't date, but a rough judgment would put him not in her to date type. Yet she wouldn't place him in the non-date category either. He fascinated her.

"I only live a couple blocks from here. Why don't I..." said Harry as he stood and took out his wallet and dropped a few bills on the table.

Jane, still holding Jim's hand as she had done most of the time since they had come together again, also stood, pulling Jim to his feet. They each paid for their allotments of food. Dutch.

"Jim, you're coming up to see my place aren't you?" Jane said.

"Well, I..." Jim said.

Harry laughed. "I'll see you kids later," he said, pausing to glance into Jane's pretty eyes and down her slightly bent though unmistakably luscious long curvaceous body.

"He likes me," she thought. It was fleeting as Harry walked briskly out the door of the coffee shop.

She leaned against Jim, and for the evening, Harry was forgotten. Her pelvis slid along Jim's thigh to end up between both thighs where she felt the unmistakable bulge. The mighty club she had missed for so long was rising up and making itself known again. He turned her so that the ridge and the misty valley beneath her abdomen pressed against his club. They kissed right in the middle of the brightly lit coffee shop. With slow powerful caresses, their tongues explored each other. Not everything could be communicated with a kiss. They separated reluctantly. She took his hand to lead him to the street.

They grabbed a cab for the long bumpy journey straight up First Avenue for a hundred blocks. Barely noticing the sides of their bodies bouncing against each other as the cab traversed the bumpy avenue, it was the hands that communicated. Fingers and thumbs would nudge and touch, at the tips and along the sides, fingernails would gently scratch inside and along the edges of the palms. Despite so little contact happening within the cab, Jim was fully hard by the time they reached Jane's apartment building.

Once inside, riding up the elevator to the seventh floor, he took her in his arms, his hands busy lifting away fabric to contact flesh. She opened up his shirt. They were thrilled by the rediscovered touch of naked skin . Somehow within their embrace they made it through her door, Jane clumsily locking it behind her.

Her apartment being a one bedroom and her roommate having taken the one room, Jane's bed was only a few steps from the entrance. Still fully embracing Jim, she backed her way onto the bed. Trembling with the passion of the moment, Jim fell to his knees between her legs. Staring into his eyes, she pulled open her blouse and pulled it off. She tackled the mechanics of her bra with ease. Flinging the clothing away, her lovely pale flesh was revealed. The big soft breasts and the hardening pink nipples jiggled before him. Busy removing his shirt and unbuckling his pants, he still managed to mostly look at them. He stood up and she did too, both removing the lower layers, shoes and socks, the outer and the underneath layers. It was a mad rush to nakedness.

Once nakedness was achieved, Jane lay on her back with a bounce. Jim bounced between her legs. Jane took hold of his magnificent manhood, even her long fingers looked small beside it, and guided it to her pussy. Like a junky who has been off the stuff for awhile, she didn't think his offering would be too much. It was like opening herself to the biggest scream of her life. But it was a good scream. A scream of complete abandonment to his well missed cock. The club pressed slowly into the tight but damp and ready sheath, an old home for it. He was ecstatic to have finally returned. And her sheath was giving. It gave itself over to the burying of the club, slowly, tightly. He pushed into her an inch at a time, each further depth was a greater thrill. They were sighing loudly their feelings of relief and release. After the long slow pumping descent, their pubic bones finally met.

They hugged together hard, trying to squeeze themselves into one being. And the being was created in sharing the intricate network of electric shimmers of pleasure threading throughout their bodies. They released their hug. Jim began his strokes, long and deliberate, slowly building speed.

He kissed her neck, nibbled her ear and her nipple, sucked her breast inside his mouth. His tongue lashed the areola, causing her cunny to liquefy even more to let the club slip in and out easier. And faster. And faster. She lifted her hips so she could dangle from his pumping club in such a way as to have just the right contact with her clit. Her sighs emerging from her every time the club pushed in got louder with each successive stroke. He slowed down for the first time, but his thrusts seemed more powerful, deeper and more intimate.

It had become too much to hold back, and she let loose her pleasure with a long drawn moan. He felt the way of his club become slicker and the walls became lively, pulsing and vibrating. He drove into her hard three more times before he stopped and held her fast, his club deeper than it had been before, trembling with the cum it was ejaculating. Joined in orgasm, they had at last let loose all the frustrations, all the loss of sharing that had occurred with two years apart.

"God I missed you," she said, to underline the situation. "I guess you could tell."

"I missed you too," he said. "But I don't know..."

"Shh," she said, emphasizing her intentions by kissing him. Her lips pinched his upper then lower lip. Jane and Joe were a tangle of arms and legs as they held tight, reminding themselves of the flesh they once knew, and finding the changes two years had wrought.

Jim began gently kissing her face, tickling her eyelashes with his lips, pushing his tongue against her temple, quickly sucking and blowing on her ear. He sucked on her neck and slid his teeth along it in an almost bite. His lips slid down below her clavicle to the lower attachment of her breasts to her chest. His tongue slid under one breast, feeling its soft weight, before sliding up and down around to the other breast. He sucked her nipples, first one and across to the other. He kissed lower, across her stomach, fleshy but not fat, his tongue stopping to explore the small concave place of her belly button, digging in deep to fully enjoy the texture of her "inny." Kissing the way down between her thighs, he surprised her, giving a couple of vigorous swipes inside her pussy lips, each ending with pressure on her clit. "Oh, mmm," she moaned appreciatively.