Esther and Star Ch. 03

I nodded. Made sense.

She continued, "What she does with her tongue will tell you a lot. If she's soft on the kiss and giving you some tongue, she may be asking for your tongue. So, you give her a little at a time. If she keeps taking it, then she wants you to take her. You can kiss harder. The harder she lets you kiss her and the more tongue she takes, the harder she wants to be taken. But she may send you signals that she wants to keep it soft. She may give you as much tongue as she takes. That would tell you that she wants togetherness and closeness. Definitely don't take her from behind."

"And if she's hard and giving me all of her tongue?"

"Let her use your body as her playground. She'll probably suck your cock and then get on top of you and go for a ride."

"What about kisses that stay soft the whole time?"

"Then be gentle with her. Read her lips and tongue to decide if you need to take charge or if she does."

I shook my head in wonder. "I had no idea that kissing was so complex."

"Because you've got no experience. Let's practice. We'll kiss. You feel and decide what to do. After, you can tell me what I wanted."

We kissed. Star was more aggressive. I tried to match her, and I felt her draw away. I pursued, and she broke the kiss.

"Well?' She asked.

"You wanted my body? Hard kiss, lots of tongue?"

"Yes, but when you tried to match me—hard for hard—did you feel me pull back a little?"

"Yeah."

"That means I didn't want you to match me. I wanted you to submit to me. You needed to soften and let my tongue in."

"Oh." I said, and then something occurred to me. "But, Star...shit, Stella. Esther doesn't know all this shit. None of it will work with her."

"Girls are born knowing it, dumbass. It's only boys who need to learn."

"Don't boys send signals, too?"

"Right, but you only have two signals, really: now and right fucking now. Here, try again."

We kissed, and she was supremely soft. I put my tongue in her mouth, and she let me. I got a little bit more aggressive, and she let me. Soon, I was attacking her lips and mouth. Star broke the kiss.

"That one was too easy," she said.

"Soft and letting me get aggressive. You wanted me to take charge?"

"Yes. I was giving you my body. You take it," she said. "Now, I'll make it a little more challenging."

We kissed. She was soft, again. Fuck, it felt good on my lips, and I gradually increased again to attack mode. Star broke it off.

"You can't just go aggressive every time, dumbass!" she yelled, and she glanced down at my crotch. She deflated. The anger left her. "Oh. Well, no duh."

I was achingly hard.

She came over. "Down boy time, again, Hatrick?"

I shrugged. "Stella has very sexy kisses."

"This isn't easy for me to do, you know. My jaw was really sore the other night."

"We could do something else."

"No."

She worked her fingers on my buckle, button, and zipper. Soon, my dick sprang out.

"Stella, why do you always swallow the cum if you don't like it?"

"I don't hate it."

"But, same question."

"It's just easier. It's easier than having it go everywhere or keeping tissues handy or running to the sink or the toilet to spit it out."

"You could jerk me off into the sink, like before."

"Yeah, I know. Is that what you want?"

"No, but what do you want?"

She held it firmly in her hand and looked at it. "I want to suck it."

"Why?"

"I like how it feels in my mouth," she said, and she saw my look and tried to explain. "I don't know. It feels like power. It makes me feel like I can control something savage and strong. I don't ever feel that with women, only with men. And with you it's so much more, really. Having your cock in my mouth makes me feel like I'm taming a beast. You're like a wild animal that can hurt me, but I soothe you and make you love me."

"What about when you're with women?"

"No more talking, Hatrick." Her lips clutched the shaft and rode it, back and forth.

Having never licked a pussy, I wondered if it was the same for boys—if I'd feel like I was taming a wild beast. If not, it didn't seem fair. The utter satisfaction she was giving me could not be put into words. It was a gift that could not be repaid.

I watched her ponytail sway, felt the warm coating of saliva let her lips slide along my length. She built me up rapidly. I watched her stop when the first rush left my body. Her lips pursed on me, and she sucked and kissed the cum from me.

When it was over, I stretched my arms up and out from my body and groaned like a bear. When I looked back down, Star was sitting on her heels, smiling up at me. "That was fast, Hatrick."

"You're incredibly sexy, Stella."

"Think you can learn some more now?"

I nodded.

I practiced interpreting kisses for another fifteen minutes, at the end of which I was just starting to get hard again, but Star didn't notice before she ended our session. I went to my room, changed my clothes, and slugged through a few more pages of my book.

That night, Esther moved out of our bedroom and into Star's. She said she needed space and time away from me. She said Star invited her. I wasn't a dick about it. I even helped her.

"Do you love her?" I asked, standing in our bedroom with an armful of clothes.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Star. I know you're doing things with her. I can tell. Do you love her?"

She shook her head, as if irritated by the question, and as she walked past me, I leaned toward her and said, "I'm not divorcing you, Esther. I love you." I didn't. I kind of hated her guts at this point. The only thing keeping me in that fucking apartment was Star. "If you need to divorce me, I won't make a fuss over it. I want what's best for you."

She blinked at me, surprised, and then walked out without a word.

I thought, Star is fucking insane if she thinks Esther is ever, ever coming back to me.

That night I read and thought. I read about a turtle crossing the street in Grapes of Wrath—I'm not shitting. I thought about reading women's signals. There was, I decided, some truth in what Star was teaching me. You could learn something from reading how a girl kissed.

Reading and learning. They were actually kind of important.

***

After Esther left on Sunday afternoon for work, Star emerged from her room. I asked, "How's the new roommate?"

"Sweet and forlorn. Tender and loving." She looked at me sadly, and said, "I'm sorry, brother mine, but your wife is infatuated with me."

"Fuck it, I don't care. What phase are we on today, Stella?"

She smiled. "Touching."

"Okay, touching. Where do we begin?"

"Your room, but this will be a short one. I'm catching a train to New York tonight. Come on."

She walked in front of me. She was wearing a pink tank-top and tiny gray shorts that hugged her powerful little ass. I followed her.

She turned to me in her room and said, "Sit down."

I did.

She sat beside me. "First thing to know about touching is that, unlike guys, a woman's entire body can be used to get her ready for sex. Too many guys go straight for the tits or pussy."

"Entire body? A girl's eyeballs? Come on."

"You don't believe me?"

"No. No one wants their eyeballs touched."

She gave me an exasperated look and then got on her knees behind me on the bed. Her body was close. "Close your eyes," she said, softly.

I did, and Star placed her palms on my temples, and the fingertips of her index and middle fingers began to rub my eyes extremely delicately. It was an eyeball massage.

"Oh, shit," I muttered. It felt good. Fuck, her fingertips were soft.

"Will you listen now?"

"Give me a few more minutes."

She stopped and slapped me on the head. "Dumbass. I've failed to get through to you the critical difference between how you—guys—think about sex and how women do."

"Who cares?"

"Brother mine, it's the most important thing there is. This is the only lesson that matters. Everything else can be figured out from this one point, okay?"

"Okay, okay."

"Since you don't have any of your own to tell, I want you to tell me a sex story that one of your friends has told you."

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

So I did. I told her the story one of my friends—same guy who let me pole vault, actually—told me. It was his first time. It was after a football game. He met up with his girlfriend. She was still wearing her cheerleading uniform. They were in her basement, and her parents were upstairs. They had to be really, really quiet. I ripped through the story quickly.

Star nodded. "My turn," she said.

Then, she told a sex story. Hers was significantly longer. It took place, I gathered, not all that long ago. She was dancing at Centerfolds, and there was a big group all lined up around the bar. One of them was this woman, Star said, probably in her forties, maybe even low fifties. She was dressed in an expensive silk business suit, and she'd come with a bunch of men, also in suits, most of them younger. The woman drank and watched Star while the men roared and hooted all around her.

These were attorneys, Star knew, from one of the big firms over at International Place, but it was the first time she'd ever seen this woman. These high-powered suits came out sometimes, and they paid very, very well. It was going to be a good night.

The woman, Star noticed, began quietly urging the boys around her to tip Star, and they did. Star came over, picked up her tip and danced for them. Every time, Star said, she was watching the woman, and the woman was watching her.

When her dance ended, Star went to the loft and...

I had to stop her. "Star," I interrupted, "Get to the good part. Fuck! How long is this story going to take?"

"See!" she said with triumph. "This is the difference."

"What?"

"For guys, a sex story is just about the sex. I mean, sure, you mention the setting, but you get to the sex really quickly."

"Because the sex is what a sex story is about."

"Stop," she ordered. "Think about it for a second, dumbass. Think about the difference between your story and mine. What does that difference tell you about how women view sex and how men do?"

I quit arguing and stared at Star for a moment. Then, I scratched my chin and said, "Your story included all of the build-up. Mine kind of glossed over that."

"Right, so how does that difference..."

I raised my hand: shut up and let me think. "Women think of sex stories as including everything, from the time you met to the time you cum."

"Yes!" she said with enthusiasm. "But, all this, what we're talking about, it isn't just about how we tell the stories. It's about how we think of sex." She raised her hands and shook them—forget what I just said, she was saying. "How we think about sex is evident in how we tell sex stories."

"The whole night is the sex? Even the eating dinner and the movie? On a date, I mean?"

"Yes!"

I shook my head. "Star, plenty of dates don't end up in sex. It doesn't make sense, what you're saying."

"The actual sex makes everything leading up to it a part of it," she argued.

I looked at her doubtfully.

She said, "Look, think about a football season, okay?"

I nodded.

"At the end of the season, say you lose the championship game. You're going to talk about how all the practice and weightlifting and hard work—how it all wasn't good enough, right? How you should have done more? That fair?"

"Yeah."

"Now think if you'd won the game—won the championship. You're going to talk about how everything you did leading up to the game was all a part of it. How you couldn't have done it without all the hard work. Am I right?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Same thing for women and sex. If the night ends in sex—good sex, championship sex—then everything before it—the meeting, the asking out, the date, the food, the touching, the kissing, everything becomes a part of the sex for women. Everything contributes to the championship."

I snorted a little laugh and said, "Pretty good one, Star. I like that."

"Thanks," she said, smiling. Then, she got serious again. "But, do you see my main point?"

"I think so."

"No thinking. Know it for sure: everything you do is a part of the sex. You have to think of it that way, from the moment you meet to the moment you fall asleep in each other's arms, exhausted from all the fucking."

"All the championship fucking," I clarified, smiling.

She laughed. "Do you get it now? Can you think the way women do?"

I said, "I'll try." I wanted to get back to the touching, but another thought occurred to me. "Star, don't girls get sick of guys who always do shit right, though?"

"What do you mean?"

"You say everything is a part of the sex. You say—and I've heard it before—the girl needs to feel sexy and desired. Say I do all of that. Won't I still fail? Don't girls want the mystery man? Doesn't there need to be mixed signals: I like you...no, I don't...yes, I do...no I don't. Isn't that part of seduction or whatever?"

She nodded at me, impressed. "You're getting smarter, dumbass. That's a good question."

"So?"

"It's not just about mixed signals or playing hard to get, but an element of mystery or risk makes it better, more exciting. That's true."

"Risk?"

"Think about the story I was telling you—the older woman—before you interrupted."

"Yeah?"

"I'd never seen her before. The men all followed her in. You could tell that she was the leader of the pack. She was elegant and professional. She looked like she talked to senators all day. She looked rich, but she was watching me. I was her target. She let all the boys leer and holler. She didn't care. She knew—the minute she saw me—that we would be fucking that night."

"What's her risk?"

"I was the mystery or the forbidden fruit or whatever. I was half her age, and I was a stripper. Powerful people don't go after strippers; they go after supermodels."

I nodded, seeing her point.

She continued, "And for me, there was definitely a forbidden aspect to it. She was Mom's age. It was like sleeping with one of Mom's friends or something."

"That doesn't freak you out?"

"Dumbass, we left freak out behind us the minute I gave you a lap dance."

I sighed. She was right, of course.

"So, to answer your question, never once did that woman send me mixed signals. It was all yes, all the way, and it was some of the hottest sex as I've ever had." Star watched me take this information in, and then she asked, "What do you care, though? You're married."

I shrugged. "I just wanted to understand."

She sighed. "Okay, then: touching. Ready?"

I nodded.

Star laid down on my bed and told me to make her body feel good with my hands and without ever touching her boobs or her pussy. I asked her about her ass.

She thought about it, and then said, "You can touch my butt, but not my butthole, okay?"

I laughed at her, but I wasn't sure why. "Can I take off your clothes?"

"No."

So, I started at her feet and worked my way up. She stopped me at her thighs, about five minutes in, just below her ass. I was rock hard, and she sat up, not noticing. I was disappointed. I wanted a down boy.

"You've got good hands, okay? Technique will not be an issue, but here's the two keys: first, you have to read her reactions, just like in kissing. She'll arch her back, she'll tilt up her neck, she'll relax her shoulders, she'll moan, she'll spread her legs, she'll do all kinds of things to tell you what she likes."

"More reading?"

She nodded.

"Okay, what's the second key?"

"You also have to do what makes you get harder."

"Really? Touch what I like?"

"Yes, she'll feel your cock against her. She'll know that you think she's sexy. And even when you're not against her body, they way you touch her will tell her that you're hot for her. It will. There's no mistaking it. Girls will know. I know that you're hard right now, and you didn't touch me with it."

"Okay, so when did I get hard?" I asked her, challenging her theory.

"I think it probably started when you were on my calves, but I could tell the best when you were just under my ass."

"Fuck!" She was right. "How did you know?"

"The way you breathed. The way you touched me. I could just tell you liked it."

I shook my head in amazement, saying, "So, touch her and read her, but...?"

"...but touch her where you really want to, where it will make you hotter and harder," she finished.

"But not her pussy or her tits?"

"Definitely not at first, you have to work up to those areas."

"Shit."

"Wait, don't forget that her kiss might tell you to go straight for those places. Or her kiss might tell you to leave it all to her. She'll handle the touching."

"Oh, yeah."

"And, brother mine—Hatrick, most of the time you're going to be kissing while you're touching. So, you're on double duty."

"Fuck, Star! That's like fucking sex calculus! Nobody can do that!"

She raised her hand at me, saying, "Settle down. Settle down."

I waited.

"Read the kiss first. Go ahead and touch her, but don't read the touches until you've read the kiss. Once you've got the kiss, then you can worry about the touching."

I sighed and nodded. "That's better, damn it."

Star smiled, she slid on her side and patted the bed. "Lay beside me."

I did.

"Don't touch, yet. Just read the kiss, and then tell me."

I nodded, leaning close, and Star just melted into my kiss. Fuck, it was hot. Her mouth was active, but not forceful. I added a touch of aggression, and I felt her back away. I ramped it down, and then we were kissing perfectly. I knew.

I broke away. "You were matching me, but you wanted soft for soft."

She nodded.

I continued, "Togetherness, being the same with each other, right?"

"Right. Good job, brother...Hatrick!" She punched me in the chest and asked, "So how would you touch me?"

"I'd go for the places I want to touch—not the really good places, yet—and I guess I would expect that you might do the same, touch me, I mean."

"Come on, Hatrick" she urged me, and we were kissing again.

Her little hands reached under my shirt and lifted. I helped her. We broke the kiss for an instant, and my shirt was off.

I did the same to her, but I decided to leave the bra on for now. While her hand rubbed my chest and stomach, I ran my fingers along the back of her head, deep in her hair, feeling her neck and scalp, feeling her silky hair slip between my fingers. I massaged right where her head and neck came together.

Star's hand slid up to my shoulder and she squeezed. I ran mine down her back to her ass. I felt its perfect curve, its mass and strength through her shorts. I pulled away and slid my hand up her thigh, under her panties. My fingers glided over the hilltop of one cheek; my fingertips slid along her crack. Her skin, warm and soft, thrummed under my hand. Like her breasts, Star's ass was packed tight, and the skin covering it seemed to barely hold the flesh underneath.

She broke the kiss and whispered, "You're hard now, aren't you?" Her hand slid down my chest to my shorts. She slid it underneath the waistband and ran her fingertips along the length of my cock.

I nodded, clutched her ass, and my imagination raced away.

"So, Hatrick is a butt guy, eh?"

"For yours? Sure."

"I bet you like Esther's, too."

"Let's not talk about her," I said. Kneading and clutching Star's ass like a kid with his favorite stuffed animal. Star's fingers kept gliding up and down on me.

I let go of her butt and slid my shorts off, and then I rolled Star on her belly. I hooked my index fingers under her shorts and panties, yanking them down.

Straddling her legs, I glanced down, seeing my cock jutting out over Star's ass. I reached down and clutched her ass. Kneading it, I spread her wide and squished her together a few times, catching glimpses of her pussy and her little asshole.