Aristippus - Angie's Story

When Ivy got home, I said, "You'll never guess who called me today."

"God," she joked, as she dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and gave me a kiss.

I laughed, "No, the opposite. The fucking devil," I said, still chuckling at her joke. "My mother."

"Your mother," Ivy said. "How did she find you? I thought you hadn't heard from her in six or seven years."

"Yeah, seven years, I think," I said. "She got my number from shithead."

"Oh, Frank," Ivy laughed. "What did she want? Or was she just wanting to wish you seven Happy Birthdays?"

"No, she's in jail, of course," I sighed. "And she wants me to bail her out."

"Are you going to do it?" Ivy asked, as she reached into the refrigerator to get two beers.

"I don't know. I don't owe her shit. But she is my mom," I said as I accepted the beer Ivy was handing me. We clinked bottlenecks and sat down on the couch together. "She sounded so desperate. So sad. Like a lost puppy or something." I paused as we both took a drink. "Besides, I don't have a thousand dollars or any way to get it. My aunt and uncle must have told her to go fuck herself, so maybe I should do the same thing."

We debated the pros and cons back and forth for another hour, and when the housemates all got home, the six of us walked over to Van Nuys Boulevard for sushi. And even though this was a local Mom and Pop Asian diner, sushi is still expensive. So, we always got a bowl of miso soup each and then split four rolls six ways. That way, we can all get a beer. And the discussion was all about my mother. Ivy was the only one that knew the story of Dawn, my mother. It was mostly new to the others, so it was interesting to get all of their perspectives.

In bed that night, as Ivy cuddled up to me and wrapped her arm over me, she said, "Angie, I know how we can get a thousand dollars."

"How?" I said. It was funny that she hadn't said anything earlier.

She paused for a second, choosing her words carefully. "I have a customer that will pay me a thousand bucks to sleep with him. I mean, go out on a date with him and then back to his house."

"How well do you know him," I asked.

"Oh, not that well. But I've probably given him four or five massages over the last year. He's a nice guy and always tips very well," Ivy said as she squeezed my chest and snuggled closer. She then added, "He's some sort of computer geek, web designer or something. I have his business card."

"Well, what does a date and going back to his house entail."

"I don't know, Sweetie; I've never done this. But I assume it means meeting at a nice restaurant, having dinner and drinks, then following him to his house. Maybe another drink, an hour or two of sex, and then payday."

"What's his name?"

"Dylan, Dylan something. Like I said, I have his business card."

I laid there in silence for several minutes as I rolled the options around in my head. "And you're saying you would do this for me," I finally said.

"Yes," she whispered in my ear. "I love you, and I owe you. So yes, I would do this for you."

I nodded okay, but I didn't say anything. I wondered why Ivy still owed me. Was it a matter of the birth control pills, or was there more? More lies she had never confessed to me and now felt guilty about. I eventually dozed off to sleep, with Ivy's arm around me as usual.

The next morning, I had to be at work early, six a.m., and Ivy gets to sleep in as she is not expected at the massage parlor until ten. But that afternoon, when she got home, I already had two beers out waiting for us. After a quick kiss and clinking bottlenecks, I said, "Ivy, I'll do it. I'll date your Dylan guy."

She was totally caught off guard. "No Sweetie, I meant I'd do it and give you the money. I didn't mean for you to date him."

I'd been thinking about this all last night and all day today. "No, I'll do it. It's my mom, my family, my responsibility." I didn't tell her my real motive. I didn't trust Ivy. I hate to say it, and I know she would have given me the money. That wasn't the issue. The issue was that she'd probably enjoy it. In fact, she has probably been looking for a way to do it with my blessing. So, I'd just rather do it myself.

Ivy didn't immediately agree, but the next afternoon she brought Dylan's business card home and said, "Okay Angie, here's Dylan's card. I called and left a message that you'd be calling him."

"Thank you Ivy," I said. "When should I call him?"

"You can call him right now, if you want. He didn't call me back. So, I assume he is waiting to hear from you."

With Ivy sitting next to me, I picked up my phone and tapped in his number. "Hi, Dylan. This is Angie, Ivy's friend. She gave me your number and said I should call you," I said as he answered his phone.

Dylan was very friendly and appreciative that I called. He described himself, which sounded very much like how Ivy had described him. We chatted amiably for several minutes and soon agreed to meet at the Shiraz Restaurant. Shiraz is a middle eastern restaurant in Glendale and one I've heard of but never had a chance to visit. I also agreed to follow him to his house after dinner, and without literally saying it word for word, he agreed to a thousand-dollar contribution to my mom's legal defense fund.

My phone was on speaker phone, so Ivy heard every word we exchanged. But she didn't say a thing during our five-minute conversation. So, there were no secrets between us. And after ending my call with Dylan, Ivy leaned over and kissed me. "He's a nice guy Angie; you shouldn't have any problems."

At this point, I had been living with Ivy for more than four years. And other than being raped by Drew, she was the only sexual partner I had ever been with. I didn't hate men, and I never considered myself to be a full-blown lesbian. Though I admit, I certainly wasn't straight either. I considered myself to be bisexual, just leaning to the girl side. But I'll admit, I have been curious about intimacy with men. It was just that my one and only experience had been so awful, that it was hard to get past it.

Our scheduled date was actually several days in advance, which was nice, for it allowed me time to change my mind if I wanted to. So, on the night of our date, I showered thoroughly and washed my hair. Then still pink from the shower, I slipped on a brand new pair of pink cotton panties and a matching bra. I then went with a pale green jersey dress, simple jewelry, and a very light touch of makeup. Normally I never wear makeup, so this was sort of a weird treat. Getting all girly for a guy was just something I had never done before. Then to finish my attire, I slipped into a pair of high-heel clogs. Not the sexiest of shoes, but easy on, easy off. And they added about three inches to my overall height. Ivy had told me that Dylan was six foot four or five. And the closer I got to his height, the.

Then on the drive to Glendale, I stopped at the CVS for a package of condoms. I had never bought rubbers before in my life. But I didn't want to take any chances. I was still about nine to ten days from my next period. Again - if my high school biology serves me right, I'm probably at my monthly peak for fertility. And I was a little hornier than usual, so that does make sense. Standing at the register, I was mildly embarrassed to be purchasing such a personal item. But I guess it's no worse than a guy buying tampons for his wife or girlfriend. So, I just got over it.

Dylan and I had already texted selfies of ourselves to each other. So, when I arrived at the restaurant, it wasn't hard to find him. In fact, he was waiting for me at the hostess stand. I thought we might shake hands, but no. He leaned forward, and we exchanged air kisses on the cheek as if we were French and had known each other for years. Then taking my hand, we waited for the hostess to seat us.

Dinner was delicious, and the conversation was amicable. He never mentioned Ivy, or my relationship to her. Instead, we talked briefly about me and what I did for a living, and then the conversation turned to my mom. I figured it would come up, as I had already told him on the phone that she was in trouble and needed financial help - i.e., a thousand dollars.

He was very supportive and understanding. He made no judgments about me or any member of my family. In fact, Dylan appeared to be sympathetic, claiming that he had similar issues within his own family. And when it was time to leave, he gave me his home address, so that I could Google map his house in case I got lost following him home.

He only lived about three miles away, in Eagle Rock, so it turned out I didn't need the map after all. But it was still nice to have it. And his house was very nice also. It was in an older neighborhood, but most of the houses had been renovated, and his in particular, was extremely nice. He apparently lived alone, and probably worked from home also, as one of the bedrooms had been converted into a very high-tech workspace, with lots of computers and large monitors. I eventually found out that he did computer graphics for animated movies. Like Pixar, though he wouldn't confirm or deny that they were a client.

He then made us both drinks, and we sat down on the couch in his den. "So, I understand that you know Ivy, do the two of you work together?" he said once we were comfortable.

"No," I said. "I work at a sandwich shop in Van Nuys." There was a momentary pause in the conversation, as if he was waiting for more. "We live together."

"Oh," Dylan said, after taking a sip of his drink. "So, you're roommates?"

"Not exactly," I said. "We're more than roommates. We share the same bed."

Judging from the smile on his face, I think he already knew that he just wanted me to say it. "Oh, well how long have you been - uh, partners.?"

"Four years," I said, slowly sipping my cocktail. I understood where this conversation was going. I just wanted Dylan to play out the hand he was dealt.

I could almost see the wheels turning in his brain as he tried to form his next sentence. "Well then, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" He tried to contain the smile on his face, but it was no use. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"Go ahead," I said. I really was curious to hear the next words from his mouth.

"Okay," he said, still trying to restrain his smile. Since I assume that you are lovers. Do you mind showing me - or teaching me how to eat pussy. I just don't think I'm very good at it."

I laughed. I thought that was a pretty novel way to get me naked and in his bed. So, I jokingly answered, "Well, not fully dressed."

"Shall we retire to my room?" he said, pointing down the hall.

"I have to pee first. Do you mind?" I was doing everything I could to keep from bursting out laughing, but his smile was just infectious.

"Absolutely not," he said as he continued to point down the hallway. There's a bathroom right there on the left, or in the master at the end of the hall." He then jumped to his feet, and holding his hand out to take mine, helped me to a standing position. Holding my drink, I swung my ass all the way to the master and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Once I had drained my bladder, I blotted myself dry as usual. Then dropping the paper into the bowl, I considered wiping myself further with a wet washcloth. But no, if Dylan wanted the complete lesson in muff diving, he might as well do it in the real world. Ivy and I rarely showered before going to bed, and a woman's bouquet is a major marker of her charm. I left my green dress hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door and stepped back into his bedroom wearing just my bra and panties. And not totally surprised, I found that Dylan was already down to his satin boxers and lying on the bed.

"Well, aren't you comfortable," I said, playfully putting my hands on my hips. And as Dylan nodded his agreement, I slipped off the clogs, unsnapped my bra and let it fall to the floor. Then pushing my panties down across my hips, before wiggling my body so that they fell to my feet. I laid down at the top of his bed, leaning against the headboard and spreading my legs, allowing him a full view of my femininity.

He rolled to his belly, and as he placed his hands on my ankles, I said, "Okay Dylan, the first rule of muff diving is to make me feel relaxed. You can massage my vulva - the outer lips. Just gently massage with both hands to make me feel comfortable and safe. He placed his hands on my inner thighs and immediately began tenderly rubbing. He was very gentle, and I found it hard to keep from moaning, but I didn't want to give too much away so early.

After a minute or two, I said, "Okay, very good. Now the second step is to get me aroused. That is to get me wet. And you do that by starting to massage my clit, and then by gently starting to lick my little man in the boat." That was what Ivy and I called our clits. And he was doing a great job, so I felt this may not have been his first time. "Gentle, gentle Dylan," I cautioned. "Make your tongue as soft as possible. Keep your whole mouth relaxed."

Dylan really didn't need lessons. He was doing a marvelous job. But it was still fun playing his little game. I let him lick and tongue massage me, for maybe another two or three minutes. Until I breathlessly wheezed, "Okay. Dylan - Dylan, you can now start to insert your fingers inside me. Wet two fingers in your mouth." It was very hard to talk, as he still had his face buried deep between my legs. "Your middle finger and your third finger, gently and slowly slip them into me. Tease me a little by pulling them back and forth before you insert them most of the way in. You probably don't need to go all the way."

He was a master at teasing me. I don't know why I was giving him the lesson. He could have easily taught a Master Class in Cunnilingus all by himself. But once he had penetrated me past his knuckles, I wheezed, "Okay Dylan, with your hand facing up, you can now do the come hither motion. Curl your fingers up along the top of my vaginal wall and do the come hither."

Am I doing it right?" he asked.

"Oh my God," I groaned. "Oh, my fucking God." I took several deep breaths and motioned for him to move to my side. "Kneel beside me so you can get a better angle." And after he moved to the desired position, I said, "Okay - okay, harder now. Faster." And as he increased his speed, I begged, "Go down on me Dylan, go down on me and suck my clit."

Without hesitating, he followed my commands. All most immediately, I felt like I had to pee. But I knew that wasn't possible, as I had just peed ten minutes earlier. I was about to come, and I think he knew it. He doubled his speed again and sucked my clit hard. I tried to hold back, but seconds later, I just exploded. I shot love juice all over his face, and as he pulled up, I could even see it squirting in the air from between my legs. Ivy had been able to accomplish that several times in our love life, but Dylan was an absolute master, and I wondered if he was really a lesbian dressed in drag as a man.

He moved back between my legs, and as I began to calm down, he proceeded to lick me clean. Finally raising his head, he asked, "Angie, are you okay?"

"God damn Dylan, you made me squirt." I gasped.

Now sitting up, he said, "Well, you're a good teacher."

"Fuck Dylan, you knew how to do that. You knew what you were doing."

He just smiled a big shit-eating grin, and said, "Okay Angie, I guess it's your turn to see what you can do for me."

Now I hadn't really thought that part through. I realized that Dylan wanted me to suck his dick, which I had never done before. But he also knew I had a pierced tongue; he just never said anything about it. And after all, he did such a good job eating me; I guess I owed him at least that much. "Dylan, I'm almost positive that you've eaten a girl's snatch before. You're as good as any lesbian I know. But, I've never - I mean, I've never sucked a man's dick. Okay?" I was as nervous as a rat in a room full of cats. And not because I just had the biggest orgasm I'd had in years, but because I'd never even seen a hard dick, other than Drew's. And that was not a pleasurable experience.

I was shaking, and I think he recognized that. I was sitting halfway up, resting on my elbows. He sweetly brought his lips to mine and kissed me. His face was still wet with my pussy juice, and the scent comforted me as it reminded me of my love life with Ivy. She always kissed me after eating my pussy, and the taste and smell was like comfort food to me. "You showed me how to please you. Will you now do the same for me?" he whispered between sweet kisses.

He laid down next to me, and raising his hips, slipped his navy blue boxers from his body. His cock was already hard. I didn't know if that was fucking hard, but if not, it was damn close. Then scooting up the bed until his mid-section was aligned with my chest, he took my hand and placed it on his cock. Butterflies took flight in my belly as he softly said, "Now wrap your fingers around the base." And as I followed his instructions, he added, "Now gently stroke me up and down. Slow at first, then gradually increase your speed and grip."

I started to move my hand further up his shaft, but he corrected me, implying that I needed to keep my hand low, near the base. He was now getting harder, much harder. And within two or three minutes of my tender stroking, he gently put his hand behind my neck and began to push me down. Down toward his bulging crown. "Open your mouth and slowly let me slip in," he instructed. And as I lowered my head, I could see that there was already a glistening drop of pre-cum at his tip.

Still gently stroking him, I allowed my tongue to make contact with his seepage. It tasted not unlike Ivy's love juice. So, I went ahead and lowered my head and engulfed as much of him as I could easily get into my mouth. My hand was still gliding up and down the lower portion of his pole. So, I assumed the top half was all I was supposed to get in my mouth. Dylan removed his hand from the back of my neck, and wrapping his fingers around my hand, he gently nudged me to stroke him faster. "Now, Angie," Dylan advised, "begin to gently suck. You are actually sucking me, not blowing me. Calling it a Blow Job is a misnomer."

I was still so nervous. I was pretty sure I was doing it right. But what if he started to cum? What if he blew his whole load in my mouth? Would he hold my head down so I couldn't pull back? Would I be able to handle it? I had so many questions that I could have asked, but I couldn't because - well because my mouth was full of dick.

"Teeth," Dylan suddenly said. "Teeth Angie, be careful with your teeth."

In my excitement, I had forgotten about my teeth. And from that point on, I tried very carefully to keep my teeth from making contact with Dylan's most tender tissue. But there was so much to do. Continue to stroke the bottom half, gently suck the top half while moving your head up and down, keep your teeth away from his flesh, and the big one - what to do when he starts squirting. Luckily, after about four or five minutes, Dylan moved his hand to my shoulder and gently pulled himself from my mouth. "You'd better stop, Angie. I still want to fuck you. Is that okay?"

"Absolutely," I said. Dylan had been so sweet, that any memory of Drew was the furthest thing from my mind. And to be honest, I wanted him to fuck me too. I had honestly forgotten about any prior experience with a man, and I was dying to feel him inside, where he belonged. Besides, I'd much rather have his load up my pussy, than in my mouth.

And just as I was about to mention the condoms I had in my purse, he reached over to the bedside table, pulled the drawer open, and withdrew a flat foil package. I didn't even need to buy any in the first place, but I didn't know. I was new at this whole fucking thing. Dylan quickly ripped the foil open with his teeth and slipped the personal protection device on over his purple love stick. He must have been close to an orgasm, as he was clearly in a hurry. And once safely encased in pre-lubricated latex, he rolled me to my back, spread my legs, and smoothly mounted me.