My Summer with Nora Ch. 01

She did virtually nothing to help me; the promised kissing and licking of my penis was not forthcoming. Her hands stayed in her lap. As I rocked my hips back and forth, I thought, this does feel -- pleasant, but there's got to be more passionate stuff beyond this.

After about a minute of this Nora noticed something about it too. She let me drop out of her mouth and she said, "This is going to take all night. I've got some tricks to speed it up." I thought: tricks, yes, the tricks whores know.

She leaned back on the sofa and spread her legs wide; her skirt fell away and I finally saw her bare vulva. "Lean forward and use your left hand to brace yourself on the back of the couch." That sounded like gymnastics instructions, perhaps. I remembered the parallel bars at my high school.

As I looked down at her I said, trying to sound both sly and amused, "Wow, I'd really like to stick it into your cunt."

She was not amused, "You try that, and I'll put my knee into your balls." I could vividly imagine that.

She had one more gimmick: she finally touched me. She put her left hand under my shirt to hold the bare flesh of my waist; her right hand rubbed one of my buttocks.

Now when I put my cock back in her mouth these methods seemed to click. My youth and my own illusions either saved me or betrayed me, depending on how one looked at it. But I didn't care; now I felt real pleasure. My moans grew louder and higher and my body thrust more insistently. It was mostly a delusion, of course. I was really masturbating using her lips and my own right hand, but I imagined myself with my new girl, one who found me sexy and lovable.

Her hand rubbing and squeezing my backside clinched it and sent me over the edge. I imagined that she was eager for my seed, sperm, essence, whatever porn-like word would fit. Then as I said, "Oh Nora, I'm coming, I'm coming right in your hot little mouth," there was a flurry of activity on her part. She pulled my cock out and pushed it up. I ejaculated into the air.

In my delighted daze I heard her voice, "You stupid little bastard, you splooged all over my hair." I looked down at her. "And to top it off, you got the first little spurt into my mouth, which I specifically told you not to do." She pushed back on me and I stood upright.

She grimaced, "Ew, just yuck!" Then she said, "You got a handkerchief, I assume?" I pulled mine out and gave it to her; she dabbed at her hair. An impressive amount of semen had indeed landed on top of her head.

"What a fucking mess! I'll have to shampoo all of this stuff out. And now you know why I don't wear my glasses for blowjobs." She looked down at me; my cock was still out, stiff and wet. "You probably want to put that away, you're done with it for tonight."

I said, "I'm really sorry," as I got my clothes back together.

She must have detected a weakness in me because he started a tirade, "You, Paul, you are an asshole, an arrogant motherfucker in fact. You think your shit doesn't stink because you can write these stupid term papers. And yet you couldn't cop a feel with a girl unless you gave her five bucks first. Actually, I'd probably charge you ten."

I was suddenly triggered, as the expression goes now. I knew I was losing my temper; in fact, I was furious, but I couldn't control it. I was about to blow up.

In her next motion she swung her legs over to stand on the floor and she got in front of me. What she did next was foolish. She slapped me in the face, just hard enough to get my attention. "That's for splooging in my hair." Her expression seemed to show both contempt and self-satisfaction.

Now I did blow up. I charged her and grabbed her arms, pushing her against the wall.

"Get your fucking hands off of me."

I held one of her arms while using my other hand to point a finger at her. I got really close, but I didn't yell at her. It seemed that my voice was near a normal level.

"And you Nora, you're a filthy little whore. You're also a bitch, a cockteaser, and a slut as well as an all-around cunt. Five dollars? That's what you charge to blow vagrants in the Port Authority Bus Terminal."

"Jerks like you have no right to talk to me like that." I detected a note of defensiveness in her.

"It's not about rights; I'm doing it anyway."

She raised a middle finger at me and said, "Fuck you."

I knew I was going to hit her too. I can hit a woman on her ass, but not her face. But standards of decency were leaving me. Her glasses were still on the table. I can beat her on her behind after this, assuming she doesn't run out of here.

So was still talking, "So you've used me in your disgusting masturbation fantasies...

I backhanded her across her face, then slapped my palm on her other side. Then I backhanded her again. These were about as hard as the one she had given to me. For a moment I wondered what would happen if she took me on, physically. She was slender, but I'm not a big guy. What if she has a knife in her bag?

But she didn't retaliate, she just looked shocked. She was staring at me and her mouth was hanging open. I could see the redness where I had struck her; she rubbed those places. I thought that act would lessen my anger, but it didn't.

I said, "You act like a queen, but you're trash, you know that? You're like dirt on the soles of my shoes."

She recovered a bit. "I don't care what you think."

"What I think is that I'm going to take you to the couch and spank your bare ass until it falls off."

"Yeah, I like to see you try it."

She was more than hinting that she wanted it, so I said, "I'm going to do more than try." I pulled her over to the couch, and I sat down. I put her over my lap, sort of sideways so that her feet were on the floor. When I flipped up her skirt; she said, "Oh, my God."

I looked at her long legs and tight, compact ass. I was almost going to compliment her body, but I decided she didn't need praise now. Her panties weren't on because they were still lying on the floor.

I had never spanked a girl before, but I figured it couldn't be that complicated. My left hand was around her waist and I started whacking her with my right. I didn't have the strength to force her into position; she could have gotten up at any time if she wanted to. But she never even tried.

The sounds of the smacks were loud in the room. She groaned and made other noises; she wriggled her body around. At one point she stamped her feet against the floor. She said, "You're being pretty hard on me."

I replied, "Honey, you've earned every bit of it."

She glared back at me, but she seemed to have run out of insults.

It was fascinating to see her formerly pale behind as it reddened. I wasn't quite sure what to expect and was I impressed by the effect I was having on her. After a while, she seemed to give up and she didn't move at all although she yelped each time I struck her.

I said, "That's enough." She immediately reached back to rub her rear end. I pushed down on her back, "Don't get up yet."

It had taken a while, but now I was aware that my right hand felt numb. On some instinct, I put it between her legs and felt her. "You slut; you're all wet down there. You liked it, didn't you?"

She was quite honest with me, "I'm as surprised as you are."

"Well, we're going to take care of that. Let me get up and then you get back on the couch."

I went around to the far end and stood there. There was no armrest to get in the way. "Get up on all fours; scoot down this way." She complied. When she had her sandals at the edge, I started rubbing her pussy again.

She reacted favorably. "That feels so nice."

"I bet it does." After a bit, I started to undo my pants again. After I had dropped them down, I held my erect cock.

She had heard me and she looked back. "So you're going to fuck me?"

"I certainly am going to fuck you."

"Then go ahead, do it already." I supposed that qualified as consent.

Maybe I figured, that with my lack of experience, a rear-entry position would be easier than trying to get on top of her. I gripped one of her hips and with my other hand guided myself into her. My worry was that the pressure against her spanked ass would bother her, but through the whole event, she never mentioned it.

Once I started going in and out of her, I thought, now I truly understand what the big deal about fucking is.

I had come earlier near her mouth, so I had plenty of stamina now. I banged away at her as quickly and as deeply as I could. She started moaning almost immediately. "You twat, you're in heat, aren't you? You enjoy getting fucked by anybody who can grab you."

"Will you shut up already?" She didn't sound too convincing.

"No, I've listened to your bullshit for a while. Oh man, I really wanted a sweet screw with you for so long and now I'm finally getting it."

"Oh yes, please, please, give it to me." That did sound convincing.

It seemed that she climaxed rather abruptly. She lowered her head and put a hand on the back of the couch to steady herself; her right arm waved around in the air. For a few moments, she rapidly pushed back on me. All she said was, "That's it, fuck me, fuck me but good." Then some kind of long, loud yell came out of her mouth.

After that, she appeared to be on the verge of collapsing downwards. I said, "Don't go anywhere; I'm not done with you." Yet her impressive orgasm had inspired me. I was soon on tiptoes and saying trite things like, "I'm going to put a big, hot load into your cunt." That's exactly what I then did. I said various other things during that, but all I remember was repeating her name several times.

When we were done, we stayed coupled together for a few moments. When I pulled out of her, she fell flat on the cushion and I backed up against the wall. My breathing was heavy and I couldn't talk yet. In any case, I didn't know what to say to her.

I felt completely drained, and more than a bit uneasy about what I had just done. When I had calmed down and pulled my pants back up, I went to one of the windows.

Downbeat thoughts arrived. I'm in this shabby office in this dilapidated old building. 1888, that's when it was built. And I'm with whoever that person is over there on the couch.

I thought of the drug dealers and streetwalkers out there in the New York night, the noisy subway trains far down in their tunnels under Washington Heights. Some of the stations were so deep that they were connected to the street by elevators.

I remembered a Langston Hughes poem about being on the edge of Hell in Harlem. I decided it was now time for me to leave. I saw Nora still lying face down on the couch. She was awake but she didn't look at me. As I went past her, I yanked her skirt up. "This is a version of corner time, I suppose."

She didn't answer me, but she pushed her garment back again.

I said, "I've had enough of this; I'm getting out of here."

I was turning to walk out when she looked over at me and said, "Don't go."

"What?"

"You heard me. Don't go, don't leave me here. Walk me over to Amsterdam Avenue." Right, she needed to hail a car service.

I took out the twenty-dollar bill and threw it on the floor. "Here's your cab fare, as promised."

Instead of going for the money, she got up and retrieved her glasses from the table. I assumed she wanted to see me better. As she stood there, I looked her over. Maybe I was trying to grasp the totality of this person.

Man, she's so pretty and yet she looks so vulnerable now. And she's my age; I don't want her to get hardened by what she's been doing for money. And then there was the fact that she had just busted my cherry. In all of the weirdness of that evening, that hadn't registered with me yet.

I wondered if she was lonely. Did she ever have any normal dates with guys? I had never seen a boyfriend come around to meet her after class.

I said, "I suppose we've seen some things in each other, I mean our hidden dark sides."

"What you saw, that isn't really me."

"Then who is the real you? A sweet girl who goes to church?"

She shook her head, "I think I should go home now."

I made an instant decision, although actually I had been fantasizing about it for months. "No you're not; we're going downtown and you are going to have dinner and drinks with me." I added, "I'll pay for it."

"You want to go on a date with me now?"

"Yes, right now. I just said that."

She didn't have to think about it much, "All right, that's fine, I'll go with you."

I pointed to the floor. "Then get your panties on and let's go."

******

We wound up in a casual dining place in West Midtown. She was very subdued during the cab ride down there. At the restaurant, I got a beer with my meal and she ordered a vodka with tonic. When she got it, she drank deeply from her glass. "Oh yeah, I really needed a drink tonight." Then she squirmed in her chair, "Man, you certainly busted my ass."

I shrugged, "Well, you deserved it. Next time I'll use my belt on you." I wasn't sure if I was joking.

I saw her briefly lick her lips, "I see you have some ambitious plans for me."

She was more talkative now and she soon blindsided me with something. "I guess I really am a whore, but a part-timer -- sort of casual, you might say."

I tried a lame joke, "Ad hoc, that's what I'd call it.

She cracked a smile; she did get what I meant. "But I never let men have me vaginally." God, does she have to share this with me? "That leaves, you know, three things I can use." I knew exactly what she meant. "Well, there's my tits too, but they're not big enough to be effective."

I commented, "There are also your feet."

"Yes, I did have one of those guys. And here are actually a couple of other things."

"Nora, must we talk about this?"

"Come on, let me complete the story. There are guys who want to do a peep-show thing; they want to jerk-off while looking at me. And I dabble in being a dominatrix too."

Now I was curious. "What do you wear when doing that?"

"Sometimes just business clothes and high heels."

"Really? I'd like to see you in that."

"I'll wear it some time for you. I only have one suit. If I ever go on a job interview, I'll need it."

Damn, I have another question. "So you were never -- what do they call it? A submissive, a bottom?"

"No; well, not until tonight and you came along." I felt oddly proud of myself. And she had liked it too.

She said, "I knew you were looking at me all semester."

"I think you were teasing me, with your legs splayed out and such."

"I was, but if you had asked for a date back then, I would have turned you down."

"Ah, but when it came to writing a term paper, I was your go-to guy." I knew it was in her bag. "Let me see that thing again."

When I had it, I noted the title page. Nora Meara. Orwell's Homage to Catalonia: A View of the Spanish Civil War. History 11-330. Then, blah, blah, blah, a lot of words written by me.

She said, "I never could have written it myself."

I pondered that. "No, Nora, I think you could do it if you just applied yourself a little more." She seemed surprised I had said that.

Some of her previous snippiness came back, "What, do you expect me to turn into a good girl now?"

Yes, you should stop whoring around and attend to your studies. Man, that would sound so pretentious. I had the insight that this mean side of her, and in fact the profession that she was working in, were a façade to protect her from certain uncomfortable feelings.

A little bit later, we got to talking about cars. She said, "This summer, I going to get a convertible, maybe a 1970 or '71 Mustang." I knew how she had the money for that. "We should go to Mohansic State Park or Bear Mountain."

"They have pools there, but I know you don't like to swim."

"I know how to swim; I just don't like the beach. Too much sun, all that hot sand. Pools are fine."

The implications of all that hit me. She doesn't even have the car yet, but she just invited me to go on trips with her in it. I guess she's my girl now. In my mind, I could see us in the car, with the top down, going up the Taconic Parkway or some such road. She was at the wheel, her hair tied up so it wouldn't blow around in the wind. It was all very vivid.

It was a very strange date. I had already done all of those sexual things with her and now we were having our first dinner together. We hadn't even had our first kiss yet. I tried to imagine what the older people in the room thought of us. Look at that nice young couple. They're having a getting-to-know-each-other date. Boy, had we gotten to know each other.

I said, "Next semester, you should join the newspaper with me." Maybe that would give her something constructive to do.

"The Salient? But I don't know what to write."

"We'll give you something, or you'll figure it out yourself. They're open to almost anything over there."

I knew some of my male colleagues were, well, starved for sex. That had been me too until about two hours ago. The men there probably outnumbered the women by five to one.

Wait until September and I come strolling in with this chick on my arm. Then I wondered if any of them had been her customers. They would have blabbed about it if they had been, right? Oh, fuck it, I don't care; that's the way it is.

Then something I didn't expect happened. I wasn't holding my beer; my right hand was on the table. She put one of her hands on the back of mine. Her warm touch jolted me more than all of our previous wild acts.

I looked at her, and she shrugged and smiled at me.

*****

The buildings described here actually existed in 1974, but have since been demolished.