Pride and Prejudice

Thanks to a great team of editors for helping with this, most of all to Alix, who pointed out wording that might mislead the reader and detract from the story's attempts at humor. TessSoerensen did the major work on the first edit, and Kenjisato cleaned up a few remaining rough spots. Also thanks to an editor who didn't want any credit and to Qetesh for consulting. The German version of this story is posted in German Literotica as "Stolz und Vorurteil" by egonhoppe73.

"Splat!"

That was the sound of the flimsy plastic tub that slipped out of Vanessa's hands as it hit the floor, burst open and sent a geyser of hummus erupting into the air.

"Damn it!"

That was Vanessa's reaction as she saw the greasy brown mixture of chickpeas and sesame seeds coloring the floor, her skirt and her blouse.

She tiptoed around the mess to get a food storage container and a spoon. She scooped what was left in the tub into the container and put it in the fridge. Then she mopped the floor. Finally, she washed off her skirt and blouse with a damp sponge. When she finished, she didn't see any hummus on her, but she still smelled it.

She thought about taking a shower before Bert got home but decided not to. He wouldn't care that much about the smell, and she was planning to take a shower before going to bed anyway.

As she fixed dinner, the smell appeared to be everywhere. It got her thinking. She wouldn't say anything when Bert came home, but when he brought it up, she would be ready with some snarky responses. Bert would think of some replies in the same vein.

They enjoyed repartee that required a little imagination mixed with wit. It was one of the things that attracted them to each other.

He had moved into her apartment four months ago because hers was much nicer than his. So far, things were going well, and she felt that their feelings for each other were growing. There was only one problem.

When they discovered the obstacle, they talked about it and agreed that it would be ridiculous to let it ruin their relationship, yet each was concerned because it was something that would impact the rest of their lives if they stayed together.

The problem was oral sex. They both loved it, but only if they were on the receiving end. Vanessa was used to boyfriends who eagerly ate her out at every opportunity. Bert was the first man she had ever met who became nauseous at the idea.

He said that he was used to the smell of a woman's arousal, and it didn't bother him unless he got too close to the source. He had tried giving oral to a few girlfriends and failed miserably. Sometimes, he had to excuse himself and secretly rinse out his mouth in the bathroom because of the taste and smell. Perfume didn't help. Rather than cover up the smell, it made him feel even more like throwing up.

Previous boyfriends had tried to talk Vanessa into a blowjob, but the thought of putting a cock in her mouth put her off. Though she loved to stroke Bert's cock and balls, that's as far as she would go. Her reaction to come was similar to his feelings about women's secretions. She could stomach the smell if her nose wasn't too close to it. As for ever tasting it, she was sure it would provoke a fit causing her to swallow her tongue and choke to death.

When they first discovered each other's aversions, Vanessa wondered how long Bert would stick around. He told her later that he wondered the same thing about her.

Strangely, all that happened was they became even closer, and she continued to be delighted with everything else she discovered about him. He seemed to feel the same way. At the same time, they both were aware, as he put it, of a dark cloud hanging over their heads.

"It's so stupid," he confided in her. "All of my friends love to do it, and they can't understand why I don't. I need to find a way to get over my phobia."

"I know how you feel," she said. "I've been asking myself, 'What's the problem?' I guessed one answer, and I don't like it."

'What is it?"

"We're snobs. We're uppity and arrogant. We're putting on airs."

He thought for a moment and then laughed before he spoke.

"We think our come is privileged."

She picked up on where he was going immediately. A few seconds later, she had a rejoinder.

"We won't go the extra lap for each other."

"We won't lose face to give head," he snapped back.

"Your nose is in the air instead of in my bush."

"You'll hold your head high to sip a martini but you won't bend it to slurp my salami."

She nodded to indicate that he had cracked the best one so far.

"You have to get off your high horse and down between my thighs."

"You're too stuck up to suck cock."

"You're too prissy to lick pussy."

He groaned and sighed.

"We're overly smegma sensitive."

She looked at him and whistled.

"I give up. I can't top that one."

They gazed at each other silently. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as she was. Why were they letting this ruin their chance for happiness? From their conversations, she knew they both understood how elusive that was.

"I know we'll find a solution," she finally said in a confident voice. "We've got the brains to work out how to get past this."

Inside, she wasn't as sure as she acted, but the exchange did make her rethink the problem. Instead of swinging between denial and anxiety, she decided to treat it as if it was a personnel problem at work.

When there was trouble at the office, she would look at the person causing the problem whenever she wasn't busy with her other managerial responsibilities. As she did, she'd think about ways to get him or her to come around. She'd analyze each idea and usually discard it. Sometimes she would tweak it, come back to it and tweak it again. Eventually, she arrived at a solution.

Often, inspiration arrived from a completely unexpected source. For instance, something might happen at work that didn't involve the person with the problem. But the event would take her thoughts into a direction that suddenly made the solution as clear as day.

As she thought of funny comebacks when Bert asked about the hummus aroma, something occurred to her, and it connected to their problem in her mind. Could it be? Was this their solution?

At first, she discarded the idea as too bizarre, but it kept coming back. Worry played a role. She had a strong feeling that the longer they procrastinated, the more difficult it would be to get over their hang-ups and the more likely it was that they would break up. Could her strange idea jar them out of their complacency? Maybe. She had to decide quickly because it would only work today. She made up her mind. It was worth trying.

She hid the container with the salvaged hummus beneath some spinach and lettuce in the vegetable drawer and waited nervously for Bert to come home.

************

"What's that smell?" Bert asked as he kissed her.

"I forgot to tell you about the beauty pageant. You're looking at this year's Miss Hummus."

"Congratulations! Where's your sash and tiara? Tell me about the ceremony."

"It was quite a spectacle. I'll tell you the story later. Please get out of here and wash up or do something else until I'm finished in the kitchen."

*************

During dinner, Vanessa gazed at Bert until he squirmed. After they cleared the plates, she embraced him and gave him a long kiss before she spoke.

"Did I build up enough suspense?"

"You did! I'm dying to know."

His tone was sarcastic.

"Then I'll tell you the story. The short version is that I dropped a container of hummus at the grocer's, and it exploded all over the floor, the shelf and me. I was a sight to see. Wherever I wasn't brown, I was red with embarrassment."

"Did someone take a photo?"

"Sorry, no. I guess other customers have done similar things because nobody made a fuss. A couple of employees started mopping up and wiping the shelves off before I knew it. The assistant manager asked me if I was all right.

"I asked him the direction of the loo, and he said he had a better idea. There was a room in the back where the butchers cleaned up. It was large and well-lit, and it had a big sink and powerful air hand drier. The room locked from the inside, and I could wash off my clothes in privacy and dry them quickly.

"I told him that sounded great, and he said to follow him. It was the new assistant manager. Remember him?"

"No."

"I pointed him out to you. He's sleek and muscular and handsome. The one who looks like a fashion model. You don't remember?"

"Now I do."

"Try to picture him walking in front of me as the other customers step back to avoid the hummus flying off me as I follow him. His pants are tight and show off his butt muscles in action as he walks. I appreciate their grandeur, and it makes me wonder about what he has on the other side."

"No!"

"What do you mean no?"

"Is this going where I think it's going?"

"Where do you think it's going?"

"Do you believe the stereotype that black men have bigger cocks than white men?"

"No. I know they don't. I heard that from some girlfriends in high school, but I looked it up and found out it was a myth, like the one about the size of men's feet."

"You're telling me that had nothing to do with you wondering about his cock."

"I didn't say that. You're right. If he had been Asian or white, I wouldn't have been curious. But who was I hurting by fantasizing about the stereotype?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Should I go on or not?"

"Go on."

"As I watch his swinging ass and wonder how big his junk is, I am struck by a bolt of lightning. I wake up and smell the hummus. The answer, my friend, is blowing in the air conditioning. Actually, the answer to two problems."

"Wait a minute."

"Yes. You want to say something."

"No, I guess not. Go on."

"The first problem is that I need to get over my fear of giving a blowjob. The second problem is my pussy is desperate for a tongue lashing. As you know, the last one it got was a couple of weeks before I met you.

"I hear the message in the hummus, but at first I think of a drawback. Then it dawns on me that the drawback is all in my mind, because we aren't exclusive."

"What the hell!?"

"We've lived together a few months now, but we never talked about being exclusive. At least I can't remember any conversation like that. Can you?"

"But I--."

"That's what I thought," she interrupted. "You may have assumed we were, but we never made that commitment. For my part, up to now, I haven't looked at another man. I don't know about you. Have you had sex with anyone else since you moved in?"

"No, I--"

"Let me finish. I'm almost done. I realize that I can satisfy my curiosity and unblock my BJ bashfulness at the same time. I can't let this opportunity go to waste.

"He doesn't turn around, so as soon as we walk through the swinging doors into the empty employee area, I scrape a bunch of hummus off my blouse and skirt, lift my skirt and cram the hummus into my panties.

"I'm helpless when we get to the butchers room. I don't know where to start. He has to show me how the faucets work, where the soap is and how the hand drier works. Everything is bewildering to me.

"By the time I lift my skirt to show him the hummus inside my panties, he knows what's going on. The customer needs service, or should I say servicing? The customer is always right.

"He locks the door and gets to work. He's surprised when I reciprocate. I'll stop there unless you want more details. You don't look like you do."

Bert was stunned speechless. Vanessa smiled at him and got up from the table. She finished cleaning up while he wandered into the living room and turned on the television. She joined him but sat in a chair rather than next to him on the couch, as she usually did.

When she got up and went to the bedroom a couple of hours later, he still hadn't said a word. As she took a shower and brushed her teeth, she went over everything in her mind and decided all had gone as expected so far.

When she came out of the bathroom, she got into bed and waited. A few minutes later, he came in, looked at her, went to the bathroom and shut the door. She jumped out of bed and raced to the kitchen.

*****************

After he gargled a few times, she didn't hear anything for ten minutes. She turned on all the lights in the bedroom, sat in the middle of the bed and waited.

When he came out, he stood by the bed and looked down at her a moment before speaking. His voice was emotionless.

"Did it work for you?" he asked.

"I think so, yes."

"You're not frightened of blowjobs anymore?"

"I'm still frightened, but I'm ready to go for it if you're ready to handle your part. I took a shower, and I'm clean everywhere."

He didn't answer but stared at her as she got up and pushed all the pillows on the bed against the headboard. She quickly took off her pajamas and sank back onto the pile of pillows. Then she pulled her feet back and spread her knees. Though she wondered if her pussy looked as wet as it felt, she didn't look down but stared directly into his eyes.

She couldn't tell what he was thinking. He didn't look frightened or angry. She hadn't seen that expression directed at her before. Was it disdain, or was it disgust?

After a few minutes, she closed her legs and spoke quickly.

"You're trembling. Let's forget about trying tonight. I think you're still not--."

"No!"

His voice boomed in the quiet room. He lowered it.

"I'm ready."

He started to get into bed.

"Wait!" she yelled as she thrust her hands toward him. "See the plastic container on the chest of drawers? Please bring it here."

He walked over to it and picked it up.

"What is this?"

"Can't you smell? That's all that's left of the hummus I dropped in the kitchen this afternoon. The rest of it got all over the floor and me. Did you really believe that rubbish about us not being exclusive?"

"You little bitch!"

"That's right, Fido. I'm going to smear that hummus all over my pubes, and you're going to lick it off your little bitch. I won't critique your technique, but I may give you a few hints. Then I'll do my blowjob debut. And no matter how terrible I am, you're going to pretend to like it."

"You, you--."

"Are wonderful. Is that what you're trying to spit out? You want to tell me how grateful you are that I figured out how to make this happen because you didn't have a clue. Don't thank me until we're done. Then you can swear that we're exclusive, and I will, too. Just so there's no confusion."

"I, I--."

"I'm going to stop standing like a statue and bring the hummus to you, honey. Do I have to finish every sentence for you for the rest of the night? Come on. It's time for us to get going. Lickety-split!"

For background on the stories of edrider73, see "Author Interview: edrider73" by Literoticauthor. Tag: "author interview."