Role Reversal Ch. 02

My name is Luanne. Recently a friend of mine gave me a copy of the story Role Reversal by Eukan Jacquekov. I am the woman he wrote about. As Eukan said at the end of his story, I freaked out after we had fucked and left. I didn’t just leave his house; I left the state. I’ve not seen him since, and don’t want to see him. But, I think I need to give you my take on that night’s events.

Eukan is at least ten years older than I am. I don’t usually date men that old, and when I first met him at a friend’s barbeque party, I had no idea that I would not only date him, but go to bed with him.

Eukan is not like any other man I’ve ever met. He does not make an obvious move on a girl. He blind sides her, and before she knows what has happened, he has her in his bed fucking like a bunny rabbit.

Like I said, we met at a friend’s barbeque party. It was late afternoon on the Fourth of July 1988. Jenny and her husband Larry had invited about two dozen of their friends and neighbors to a get together around their swimming pool. They had grilled meat of several different kinds, three or four kinds of salad, pinto beans in a chili sauce, and too many kinds of alcohol to even try to tell you what they had. A neighborhood kid whose hobby was playing disc jockey had his stereo equipment set up and was playing whatever music the guests requested. It was a great party.

I had just filled my plate with food and was looking for a place at a table where I could eat. The only vacant spot was at a cocktail table next to an old man. I wasn’t thrilled about sitting with him, but it was either sit with him, or stand up to eat. You can’t use a knife and fork while standing with no place but your hands for your plate. I went over and asked if I could sit with him.

He smiled and said, “Young lady, I would be delighted to have your company.” He got up, pulled the chair back a little so that I could sit, and then moved it forward just enough to touch the back of my leg so that I knew I could sit without falling on my butt. No one had ever done that for me before. Young guys just don’t think about that. I guess they’ve bought the feminist BS that real women don’t want to be treated like that.

As we sat eating, we introduced ourselves and then began to talk.

I’ll give this to Eukan; he is fun to talk to. Although he’s knowledgeable about a great many things, he does not dominate a conversation. He lets the other person talk, and he listens – he really listens. Not many people do that. And, somehow, he keeps the conversation going. He makes comments, or asks questions, that make the person he’s talking to feel that he is hanging on their words, and keeps them talking. The old bastard really knows how to stroke a person’s ego.

Eukan doesn’t talk loudly. To hear him, you have to lean closer to him. And, all the time that you are talking with him, he’s looking into your eyes. You can’t help but to look back into his eyes. The effect of that is hypnotic. After a few minutes, I really felt attached to him. He made me feel good and appreciated. He had not said anything to make me think he was trying to get in my pants. He was a perfect gentleman. He kept me talking about things I wanted to talk about, and he made me feel that he was really, really interested. I liked him.

“Luanne,” he asked, “May I bring you something to drink?”

“Yes, please. A glass of white wine.”

After he returned from the bar and gave me my glass of wine, he sipped from his beer. Unlike most men, he drank it from a glass instead of from the bottle. I must have been staring because he said, “I can’t stand beer directly from a bottle or a can. While in Germany, I got in the habit of drinking it from a stein. I have to agree with the Germans; you can’t really get the flavor of a beer unless you get your nose in the glass and can smell it.”

For some reason, I enjoyed talking with Eukan. I’d been at the party almost two hours and had not even thought about finding someone else to schmoose with.

Then he surprised me. “Luanne, may I take you to dinner Friday evening? I’ve so enjoyed talking with you. I’d like to get to know you better.” I didn’t know what to say. I liked him. He seemed to like me. It was comfortable talking with him. After chasing answers around in my head for almost a minute, I told him yes. I gave him my address and he said he would pick me up at six.

He rang the doorbell at my apartment exactly at six Friday evening. He was wearing a summer suit: white linen. His tie, can you believe it, was a bow tie. He had a straw hat tucked under his left arm, and had a bouquet of summer flowers in his right hand. He looked like someone out of one of the old romance novels my grandmother had. They had been written around the turn of the century and were illustrated with pen and ink sketches, rather than photos. Looking at the way he was dressed, I felt that my slacks and off the shoulder blouse looked wrong for our evening together. I said, “Come in and have a seat. I need to change into a dress.” “Oh, nonsense. You look perfectly lovely dressed as you are.”

“Thank you,” I said, “But, I’d feel better in a dress.”

“Okay. While you are changing, may I put these flowers in a vase for you?”

I took him into the kitchen, got down a vase, and gave him a pair of kitchen scissors and a packet of flower fresh. I then went to my bedroom to change. When I came out, I was wearing a paisley print dress that I thought complimented his ‘British look.’ When he saw me, he smiled and said, “Luanne, my dear, you look gorgeous. You should dress like that more often.” I thrilled at the compliment.

Eukan took me to a restaurant that he said was as much like a French bistro as could be found west of New York. I had never eaten French food before, and cannot even begin to pronounce the names of the things we ate.

I almost gagged when the waiter brought out the appetizer and set it in front of me. It was snails, great big snails in their shells. The shells were upside down on a little metal plate with holes in it for the shells to sit in. There was something black in each shell, and around that black spot there was partly melted butter with little flecks of green in it. A tiny two pronged fork lay on the dish next to the snails. Eukan sensed my discomfort and said, “Luanne, this is escargot. It is a marvelous, highly prized delicacy all over Europe. I think you will like it. If you don’t, you don’t have to eat it.”

I tried it. I liked it. I ate all six snails. They were not slimy; they had a slightly fish like flavor which by itself was nothing to brag about, but that garlicky butter sauce with parsley and white wine in it was to die for. Everything Eukan ordered was wonderful. And, God! The pastry we had for dessert.

After dinner, Eukan took me to a theater for a stage play, not a movie, an honest to goodness stage play. He said it was an avant garde production by an acquaintance of his. The play had a couple of suggestive sex scenes in it, but was such a hilarious comedy that those sex scenes just were there to pull the rest of the play together.

When Eukan took me home, I asked him in. At dinner, and again during the intermission at the theater, I had drunk enough champagne that I was feeling mellow, and I’m sorry to say – sexy. Eukan had done nothing to make me feel he was seducing me, but everything he had done had made me feel good. He had paid attention to me in a way that no other man I had ever been out with had done. He made me feel… Well, he made me feel loved. He made me feel like a woman, a woman who was appreciated. I liked the feeling.

We sat and talked a while. To my surprise, I was the one who turned the conversation to sex. As always, Eukan said little, but made sure I talked a lot. Damn that man. He drew things out of me that I had never said to anyone before, things that were my deepest, darkest thoughts about sex.

He never said anything judgmental about the things I told him. He just kept me talking, and the more I talked the hornier I got. I felt my nipples stiffen and press against my dress top. I wasn’t wearing a bra and I knew Eukan could see the little tents my hard nips were making. He didn’t say anything, but I could see in his eyes that he had noticed, and that he liked what he saw. That made me even hotter. I was getting wet.

I, I couldn’t help my self. I kissed Eukan. He returned the kiss. He didn’t do it like the young guys I had kissed in the past. He didn’t use the kiss as permission to begin pawing me and trying to rape my mouth with his tongue. Just as he kept me talking, he was now keeping me kissing him. He was accepting my kiss with a quiet passion that just made me want to give him more. He wasn’t really passive. That would have turned me off, but he down played his response just enough to keep me pressing for more. The son of a bitch was making me seduce my self, and I was enjoying it so much that I couldn’t stop. That was the first time I went to bed with Eukan. When he left shortly after midnight, I was weak kneed. I had come so many times, and so hard. God! That man can eat pussy. As I bathed and got ready for bed, I knew that I’d let him fuck me again, and again, and again.

I did – until the night we switched roles. We had talked about our fantasies several times, and both said we had often wondered what the other person felt while we were fucking.

My clit is huge. That is, it is long. It is almost two inches long, and it is about the size of a pencil in diameter. Eukan loved playing with it. He gave me blow jobs like I was used to giving to the guys I dated. You wouldn’t believe the way that man can make a girl come.

Anyway, after talking a while, Eukan suggested that we live our fantasy and find out what it feels like to fuck like a member of the opposite sex. I thought he was kidding, but he wasn’t. He told me he wanted me to stick my clit inside his cock. He wanted me to pretend I was a man, and he would pretend to be a woman, and we would fuck.

I almost freaked out then, but he had gotten me so horny by sucking my clit until I was just about to come and then backing off before I could, that I was ready to do anything if it would make me come. I had to get off.

Eukan got on his back and held his cock so that it was pointing down toward his feet at an angle that was just right for me to stick my clit into him.

I put my clit against the tip of his cock and spread his pre-come all over my shaft and around the head of his dick. That felt good, and it turned me on enough that I overcame the feeling that we were doing something perverted.

I put the head of my clit in his pee hole and began pushing in. It must have hurt him, but he didn’t say anything. I just saw his jaws tighten. I asked if he wanted me to stop, but he shook his head, and told me to go ahead.

When the whole thing was in his cock, he said, “Hold still for just a moment. Let me get used to having you in me.”

A little bit later he told me to start fucking him. I pulled back until just the tip of my clit was still in his cock head, and then slid all the way into him again. Oh, that felt good. If that’s really what a man feels when he fucks a woman, it’s no wonder that they all want to lay every woman they meet.

We didn’t fuck very long. My orgasm came on too fast. I had never had one that felt like that one. It was wonderful, but so powerful and so strange that it scared me shitless.

My orgasm made Eukan come too. His come shot out around my clit and splashed all over my pussy. I had never felt anything like what I felt as his come squirted past my clit. It just made my orgasm the most mind-blowing orgasm I had ever had.

I was so drained. I almost fainted. Then the guilt hit me. What we had done seemed so wrong, so perverted. I was so ashamed. I got off him, got dressed, and went home. I couldn’t sleep that night. I cried and cried. In the morning, I told my room mate I was leaving. I packed my stuff into my car and drove away. Three days later, I was in California.

Thankfully, I had a few thousand dollars in the bank, and lived off my savings until I found a job at a Farmer’s Insurance agency. I also found a shrink and began therapy. I’m better now, and have begun dating again.

Yes, I let some of the guys I date fuck me. No, I haven’t fucked any of them the way I fucked Eukan, and I doubt that I ever will. But – I dream about it. Boy do I dream about it. When I do, I wake up soaked in sweat and having one hell of an orgasm.

I wonder if those orgasms are like the ones a guy has when he has a wet dream?