Cometh Hither

She closed the book. "Those two never met," she said. "I was never satisfied with that. Neither was the young man's girlfriend when she finally realized he only liked to be watched, and why."

I agreed. "She was furious, ripped up all the nude sketches she made of him," I said. If I wasn't lying there naked with my erection in my hand, it would have seemed like a normal conversation about a book with my favorite teacher.

"Exactly, even though she adored his naked body, drawing his erections. Once she found out the reason for those erections he got why modeling for her, she realized she'd be forever left unsatisfied. So, if you were to have our exhibitionist and his original voyeur meet, what might happen?" she asked. "I have some ideas, but I'd like to hear yours."

I knew my next words could be coming to life. Make it good.

"Maybe it turns out she's an English teacher and he's having some troubles in school and his parents ask if she'd tutor him," I said.

"Nice touch," she said. "So a young man is permitted to visit her apartment alone without raising eyebrows?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"He goes to her apartment one day. What's next?" she asked.

"Well. The, um, guy who paid for the stories would want the sex to happen right away," I said.

She nodded. "Nin's patron, yes, surely."

"But maybe she would string it out, like neither knew how the other would react or if they were even both, uh... in on it. Like maybe he thought she wasn't actually watching him... jer--masturbate," I said.

She shook her head. "No, he said he was looking directly at her and she would come out every day at the same time. Both knew what was going on. That the other knew." She smiled and gestured at my hand, still on my erection. "There was no doubt that he was masturbating—jerking off", she added with an exaggerated whisper. "And doing it for her, he knew she was watching, not just accidentally seeing him through the window.

I thought for a moment. "Okay, so maybe they both pretend for a little while and that's part of the game. Like she has him read some--," I continued with my own exaggerated whisper, "erotic literature."

Molly laughed again. I really loved hearing her laugh.

"Perfect," she said. "Just like your story. She orchestrates things to get him aroused because she wants to see him in that state again. She hopes that he'll become excited, hard while reading with her. But since they're now in the same room, so close, she wants to teach him more. Show him their passive sexual encounters are perfectly fine, but so are more... active pursuits. So maybe she gets him into position on a couch to touch himself for her, and he willingly does so, but after a short while she decides she doesn't want to just watch him have his orgasm."

I had stopped stroking, but my fingers were still curled around myself. I moved my hand away and fully revealed myself to her.

Molly spoke.

"As he read to her, the woman rose from her from her chair and began removing her clothes," she said, rising.

Looking directly at me the whole time she was speaking, she deftly untied her dress and let it drop to the floor.

"She wanted to return the favor, show herself to him as he had to her."

She was gorgeous. She unclasped her bra and dropped it on the floor with her dress.

"She hoped her nakedness would thrill him just as much as his thrilled her," she said.

Lit from behind by the dim light on the table, she was mostly in silhouette but there was still enough light from the sky outside to illuminate her body.

"She wanted him to be just as excited being naked together as he was when there was a street between them," she said.

Before I could even linger on her naked breasts, she hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties, bent down, and slid them down her legs until found their way onto the heap of clothes on the floor, kicked with a cute little flourish of a foot. She straightened back up and placed her hands on her hips. It was a glorious sight. My eyes roved every inch of her body. My cock surged involuntarily.

She reached back and picked up my paper. "In your story it sounded like you did want more but... the woman, probably very wisely, didn't want things to go that far. It sounds to me like your storyteller—you, did not wish to remain passive. You loved her eyes on you as much as Nin's character did, but you wanted to touch her and to be touched, right?"

My erection basically said "all signs point to yes." I nodded. She tossed my paper on her leather chair as she crossed to her desk and rummaged quickly in a drawer. I swung my legs to the floor and sat up so I could watch. My hand wasn't wrapped around it anymore but my erection had not subsided a bit. I wanted to touch every inch of her.

Before I had time to even wonder what she went to her desk for, she was in front of me. I moved to stand and she put her hand on my shoulder.

"No, stay," she said.

Her other hand opened to reveal a condom in its wrapper.

"I thought I'd keep some here in case an advisee confides in me that they're having sex," she said as she tore the package open. "I didn't really expect I'd be using them myself."

"And let's be clear, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with kinks or fetishes, but you see how it turned out for Nin's character when it became an obsession. Sometimes people just need a good old-fashioned fuck," she said with finality. "And I for one am in need of a fuck. You?"

I nodded like a fool and she bent down in front of me.

"Hold that away from your stomach for a second," she said, eyeing my cock. I grasped it and did as asked.

She leaned in closer, knelt, and placed her lips on the head and gave it a quick kiss.

Oh man.

She looked back up at me with a smile and then reached down, fit the condom over the head and slowly rolled it down the shaft. Feeling her fingers on me was ecstasy. Even after it was rolled down and I had removed my hand, she kept her hand on me. Her fingers curled around the shaft and her thumb found itself touching the head. She ran her thumb along its ridge, and then removed her hand as she stood.

"So, young author, what happens next with our two kinky people?"

I looked up at her. "Maybe, she... sits on his lap?"

"I think that sounds like a perfect start." She moved forward, straddling my legs.

"The woman directed him to move down a bit," she said.

I took a second for me to realize she was speaking as Nin's narrator, but I immediately complied. My back pressed into the pillows behind me.

"Then she slowly lowered herself onto him..."

She did just that, reaching down to guide me into her. She was wet and I slid smoothly into her. She sighed and I groaned with pleasure.

"They made sure not to make too much noise in case of nosy ears," she said, looking in my eyes.

I watched the muscles in her legs tense as she began moving slowly up and down on me. Her arms were around my neck and suddenly we were kissing. Hard. The slow buildup was in the rearview. It was like our story had released Nin's characters from the confines of their pages and they were finally allowed to meet and fuck in this small, dark office. Not only was it the most intense sex I had ever had at age 20, it could be the most intense sex I have ever had, period.

She pushed me back onto the couch and she was on top of me. My hands went to her breasts, her ass. I watched as my cock disappeared inside her. I kissed her. She kissed me. My hand again caressing her breasts. I leaned forward to kiss them when without warning she reached between us, grabbed the base of my cock, and held the condom down as she quickly slid off me. I barely realized I was no longer inside her when she pulled me upward and flipped me around as she fell back on the couch. She opened her legs for me and grabbed my cock again, pulling me towards her. I moved closer and she stared into my eyes.

"Fuck me," she said.

Fighting my primary urge to simply enter her again, I moved her guiding hand from my erection. She looked at me quizzically and seemed ready to speak, but stopped when I moved my face to her breasts. My lips found her nipples. I traced my lips over the curves of her breasts, moved farther down, kissing her stomach along the way. Light, soft kisses. Her cute belly button. Dialing back a little from the urgency of the past few minutes. Soft hair.

Then my lips found her sex.

Anais Nin made it sound so classy, her sex. My lips, my tongue, her sex, her hands on my head. Not insistent, loving. Tender.

"That feels--," she breathed. "His tongue felt wonderful," she corrected herself.

She moved beneath me, I moved with her. Exploring. Kissing. Probing. Licking. Trying to fake being an expert at it. It seemed like it was working okay. Then her hands gently pulled me up towards her.

"Come here, now," she said.

Pressing my toes against the floor, I pushed myself slowly up her body, my erection sliding its way up the inside of her leg. As my face reached hers, my cock was once again right where we needed it to be, poised...

"Making sure she was positioned just right..."

She moved a bit under me. I could feel her warmth on the tip of my cock.

"She grabbed his ass and pulled him into her wet, wet..."

"Pussy," I finished. Fuck it.

Enough with classy.

She almost snarled as she grabbed my ass, positioned my hard cock with her other hand taking just a moment, just so, right there... and pulled me in.

Primary ignition sequence complete! I looked down at her. Holding myself up with one arm, I reached out to touch her face with my other hand, tenderly. She smiled-- and then grabbed me by the shoulder hard and pulled me down to her. Mouths open, tongues searching. Thrusting. Her hand on my ass showing me how fast. Faster than I thought. Main engine burn is a go! The couch protested with a creak and then apparently resigned itself to do its part quietly. For the most part.

Molly's hand went to the side of my face.

"Touch me," she whispered.

I was sexually active, but far from an expert. I touched her face. She took my hand in hers and led me downward. I slowed my body's movements as I watched her begin touching herself, my fingers beside hers. Her fingers and mine also found themselves brushing against the shaft of my penis. Fucking-A! Her fingers intertwined with mine and guided me where she desired, putting her fingers on top as mine took over. She applied the right pressure, directed the right motions, and then her hands were on my ass again, pulling me down. She sighed. I resumed the rhythmic motion of my body and she resumed hers, pressing herself to me and my fingers. We lost synchronization a couple times at the start, but it didn't take long to work out.

One hand still on my ass, she brought her other up to my shoulder and pulled my face to hers, this time more gently.

"You're going to make me come," she whispered. She kissed me and I kissed her back. And then we were simply face to face, mouths opening, breathing each other in.

"She was going to—", she abruptly cut herself off.

"Fuck the story," she said. "Oh god," she said. "I'm going to come..."

"Fuck. The story," I agreed, my voice cracking in exertion and pleasure.

"Fuck me, oh fuck me," she exhaled.

"I'm coming!" Her body quivered. I kept going, body, fingers... whatever it took to send her over that edge. She flexed her legs and pushed herself up into me and stopped in that position. I slowed my fingers but pressed a little harder. My cock was completely inside her and I was ready to pull back but she grabbed my ass to keep me in place. Her fingers dug into my shoulder and her legs quivered.

"Ohhhh shit!" She put her hand over her mouth. "Oh fuck, oh shit," her cries muffled by her hand. In that instant I thought of Charlie Brown's teacher's voice. Stop thinking about Charlie Brown's teacher!

Looking at Molly, she was again the only thing in my mind. I could not believe where I was right now. This beautiful woman.

She took her hand away from her mouth and raggedly let out a simple "fuck!" She closed her eyes. "Phew!" And then she started giggling and writhing again. More like wriggling. "Stop, stop," she gasped. I forgot about my fingers, they apparently had a mind of their own. "Tickles, tickles," she laughed.

"Sorry," I said moved my hand away. She immediately put a finger to my lips.

"There is nothing to be sorry about," she said. "Except that you did not come yet."

That was true.

"Not yet," I said.

She took another deep breath and exhaled. "Whew, well... let's see what we can do about that. What would you write, no... what would you like?" She paused, looked at the ceiling, and bit her lip like she was trying to think of something.

"You're still hard. Very hard," she said.

How could I not be? I was 20, failure to maintain erections was not on the radar of the Boner Express.

"Would you like me back on top? From behind? Blowjob?"

Having her on top of me was nice. From behind? It wasn't a big one for me right now, I liked seeing her face. Now a blowjob, or the way she had said it, "buh-low-job?" That was so damn cute.

I started, "she had only seen him afar, she had never gotten a good, close look at his di-"

Raised eyebrows cut me off.

"Um, his member? Cock? Manhood? Sex?" I asked.

"Member, manhood... mmm, nah." She wrinkled her nose. "Cock works for me," she said. "I like cock."

"A lot!" she added with a snort and gently pushed me off her. She extricated herself from my arms and left me sitting on the couch. I remember wondering about its surface. Things were getting a little messy. Is it leather? Vinyl? Pleather? What the fuck is pleather anyway? Molly was rummaging again in her desk. Another condom in its wrapper. Closing the drawer she looked around her desk and then picked up a tissue box. She crossed the room and stopped suddenly at her pile of clothes. Seeing me watching her she said, "close your eyes."

I did so. I felt her sit down beside me. One of her hands rested on my thigh and then I felt her fingers on my erection. She slid the condom from me and my penis slapped wetly against my stomach. There was a light thunk from her wastebasket a couple moments afterward, presumably the condom in some tissues.

Two points.

I was about to say that out loud when I felt something soft on my penis. Tissue? No, a handkerchief. She was delicately wiping some of the condom's slickness from me with it. I was glad, I didn't want to taste like a condom to her, I just wanted to taste like me. I could feel her thumb and index finger holding the head as she softly wrapped the handkerchief around me. That was a nice feeling. When the soft material had draped over me entirely, she put her fingers around me, squeezing me at the base. I bet my lap looked like it had a little ghost on it. With her other hand, she took my right hand, guided me to myself, and wrapped my fingers around my Halloween ghost erection. Try not to think about Charlie Brown again, all right?

I felt her lean in close, near my face.

"You can open your eyes now," she whispered in my ear.

I opened them and turned to look at her. She was smiling. She directed her eyes at my lap and my eyes followed.

My hand was holding her panties around my hard cock.

"I've never given my underwear to anyone," she said. "Those stories in the book where the women give their garments to men, they always excite me. They get me thinking about someone masturbating with my underwear," she said. "Not someone who stole them from the laundry or something. Someone I care about, someone I want to turn on, someone who would touch themselves with them while thinking about me," she added.

"Would you touch yourself with them? Just for a little bit?" she asked.

I nodded.

She slipped back into our little continuation of Nin's story.

"Afterward as he dozed, as a special treat she took off her underwear and secretly placed them in his bag of books. She felt there was a risk of discovery by his parents, but she could invent some excuse. She wouldn't feign ignorance and blame him for stealing. And the risk would be worth the reward for them both, she hoped."

I began slowly stroking myself with her panties as she watched. The story was coming easily to her and an orgasm was coming easily to me if I didn't watch it. I held myself in a way that exposed the head of my penis straining against the thin, smooth material for a moment. I moved my hand up slowly, listening to her speak.

"She hoped one day when they couldn't be together, he'd open his windows at the usual time, take his clothes off, and produce her underwear, wrap them around himself and stroke his gorgeous penis until he came. She hoped he'd feel close to her, smell her, that he'd be aroused by her, not just her gaze. She imagined how his penis would look with her underwear sliding over it as he stroked and massaged himself."

I was enthralled.

"She also imagined him changing hands so his arm wasn't blocking the damn view."

I had been lingering on her use of the word "gorgeous" but I immediately snapped out of it. She made a show of pretending to try to peer around my right arm. I took hold with my left hand and let my right arm fall to the side, my hand finding a happy resting place on her smooth thigh. That was nice.

I started stroking with my left hand, but held myself loosely so my erection was more visible within the folds of the thin material. This was better anyway, my left hand wasn't quite as experienced as my right, it'd take me longer to come.

She continued. "She saw everything from her patio. The way his hard penis moved within her most intimate of garments, the material sliding along its length, his fingers moving in ways she could tell gave him such pleasure. She imagined him thinking about her as he felt this pleasure. The silkiness of the underwear. She imagined him maybe thinking that feeling was her mouth on him..."

She was right. The feeling of the soft material of her underwear enveloping me, the thought that she had only recently been wearing them... her voice, low and sensual, so close to me... I was losing myself in rapture. I closed my eyes.

"She imagined him thinking of her, head thrown back, thrusting himself into his hand, her undergarments, quietly calling her name as he came..."

I was ready, oh was I ready. But then her hand was on my wrist, slowing and then stopping me. I opened my eyes as I felt her hand cover mine. Her fingers peeled mine away and she gave me a look and a short shake of the head that said, "not yet." I took my hand away and hers replaced it. She held me for a moment, looking me in the eyes.

"She knew if she were sitting next to him—"

She grinned and then looked down at her hand around me. With added pressure, she slid her thumb down my shaft, pulling her underwear tight around the head. She made a show of narrowing her eyes at my penis in her hand.

"If she were next to him, she knew she would see even more evidence of his arousal. 'Naughty boy,' she'd say. "Just look at what a mess you're making of my underwear.'"

There was no doubt about that.

"But before he could protest, she would tell him that she was only joking. She would tell him that she enjoyed seeing his wetness on her panties, his scent mixing with hers on the garments she had so recently worn."

Molly slowly stroked me as I watched raptly. I had hoped and fantasized this might happen, but actually having it happen was still an almost otherworldly feeling. Part of me felt like I was watching it happen to the two people in our story, which wasn't surprising since crafting their story was so intertwined with the physicality of the moment. I drifted between our fictional lovers and the feeling of her hand on me, between the worlds of the imaginary and real, the warmth of her next to me, the erotic imagination, the smell of her skin, my skin, our words. The intoxicating scents and sensations of naked arousal and lust coupled with imagery crafted specifically to manipulate events in the real world. Words come to life.