Summer of Sydney

Not that I was staring, but her total lack of pubic hair made it easy to drink in the sight of her at a glance. Her inner labia weren't long, but they were thick. Pale pink, peeking out from top to bottom.

I told her I unconditionally supported her feminist principles. That made her laugh.

I asked her if she was okay with me taking my clothes off--"Please do," she said--and soon we'd resumed our positions, necking with me semi-on top, our hands gliding around on each other's naked flesh.

Samantha was petite, but not hard. As uninvolved as she'd seemed at first, she seemed to take delight in every new place I touched. She only warned me away when I came close to her beautiful, perky tits.

"Hair-trigger nipples," she explained.

"Noted. I'll stay away," I said.

"Just for now," she smiled.

We resumed kissing. My hand started moving again. She placed her cool fingertips on my wrist as I roamed down her soft belly. My middle finger slipped briefly in and out of her navel, Mock-penetration.

For so long, I'd been focused on just sex. Fucking. Penetration. Getting it in. I was surprised by how good it felt to be naked with another person. To be able to touch her body, for her to touch mine.

To be honest, I'd gotten used to Sydney. She was still a mystery to me. I don't know how it was with her other partners but, with me, sex had been about as non-intimate as two humans fucking could get.

One of Samantha's hands draped loosely on the back of my neck as I kissed her mouth, her cheek, her fragrant neck. Her other hand guided me, more and more urgently, the lower my fingers went down her belly.

Had I gotten so used to a sexless existence that I hadn't even noticed how sexless sex could be?

VII.

Samantha gasped in my ear, an airy, ratcheting noise, when my fingers made contact with her vulva. I put my fingertip in, just a little, between the lips, no deeper than when I'd probed her belly button.

"Is this okay?" I asked her.

She nodded.

What I touched was warm and wonderfully gooey. I gave her an experimental swirl, just pushing those soft parts around a little, and she rewarded me with a sweet sigh that sent a twinge through my guts.

I kept up the attention, getting more aggressive, encouraged by her deep sighs and the fluttering of her belly. I suppose I could have kept it up until O-town, but I guess I felt the need to keep moving.

"I'd like to eat you out," I said.

She nodded again.

I kissed my way down her body, glancing up at her under my brows for permission before licking and lightly sucking one of her nipples. She shivered, but didn't shoo me away. I decided to linger for a moment.

At full mast, her nipples were big, hard, like fingertips. I suckled one and stroked the other with a thumb, my free hand between her legs. She breathed slow, stuttering breaths. Her body occasionally shook.

Her nipples were so nice and her reaction was so lovely that I almost regretted leaving them. But I was on a mission.

I continued my way down, stopping briefly to tongue her navel--I really liked it for some reason, and I liked the way she giggled--and then I was there, up close and personal with her hairless vulva.

I had a sudden strong sense memory of that moment, outside in the oppressively humid night, kneeling in front of my open van door, Sydney's naked legs open in front of me, the taste of both of us.

Just as I'd done with Sydney, I gave Samantha an experimental lick from bottom to top. She tasted only lightly of sweat. I figured her day at work was pretty mild. I licked again, digging in a little.

I enjoyed eating Samantha's pussy, and she seemed to be enjoying it well enough herself. But I had to admit after a while that I was struggling. She didn't seem any closer, and I was getting fatigued.

It occurred to me that Sydney had coached me, had told me what she needed and how to give it to her. (Admittedly, it had been for her own benefit more than mine.) Samantha was merely being patient with me.

Then she looked down at me, sighting down her naked body, and said, "Mind if I return the favor?"

Grateful to be spared, I knelt on the bed and helped Samantha into a sitting position. She prostrated herself in front of me and looked at me over her glasses--the only thing either of us was still wearing.

Her hand clasped me and her mouth descended on me.

Her cool hand and hot, wet mouth were a pleasant enough. I watched, looking down at her bobbing head, colorful, fragrant hair, lovely bare back, scattering of tattoos, her compact ass, cute little buttcrack.

She lifted her head for a moment.

"You have a nice dick," she said, that crinkling smile.

I'm not sure what I said back, but she giggled and went back to sucking my cock. I hope I said something clever. As far as I knew, I wasn't equipped with anything special. Maybe that's what I said.

She was doing porn star theatrics, licking the shaft, bobbing, smooching, loose-gripped jerking. Visually, it was spectacular. Sensually, there was a sweet spot she wasn't quite settling into.

I suppose it was the same when I ate her pussy. I could have coached her, sure, but sometimes there's not much you can do for a body you haven't learned yet. We weren't going to get each other off this way.

All we could do was be sweet to each other.

I let her suck on me a little longer before telling her I had a condom with me. (I always had one. Hope springs eternal.) She looked up and smiled. She turned around on elbows and knees, facing away from me.

From behind, she was a lovely display. Totally hairless, all legs and ass and pink pussy and slightly tan asshole, none of which she was shy about showing to me. Ah, the ways we telegraph what we like in bed.

I found my shorts, went into the pockets, retrieved the condom, rolled it on, and positioned myself behind her. I put one hand on the small of her back and used the other to position my latex-encased penis.

"Ready?" I said.

"Mmhmm," she said.

I pushed in, slowly, delighting in that first time feeling of penetrating a new partner, taking caution not to move too fast with someone I didn't know well enough. She pushed back, and I was in her.

I wasn't sure why I was being so careful with Samantha. She'd been ready and willing at every step. I guess I felt like things had moved so fast with Sydney that I didn't want to skip the little moments now.

The feeling of Samantha's soft little ass making contact with my hips was gratifying. Sydney had wanted sex, but it felt like Samantha wanted me. All the flirting, the pet names, I hadn't just imagined it.

I began humping, slow, long strokes, gripping her by the waist. Her face and arms settled into the comforter. The way her hips were angled in relation to my cock felt amazing, apparently to both of us.

Soon, I was fucking her in shorter, more brutish strokes that clapped against her body. Samantha quivered, then made a long, moaning "ooh" noise that sounded as if she'd held it back for as long as she could.

I rode it out with her for a bit, then took it easy on her as her orgasm finished working its way through her. We separated. She collapsed. We laughed when the window AC chose that moment to turn on.

Languidly, she rolled onto her back, her knees up and apart. Bits of lint stuck to the sweat on her breasts and belly.

"Come on, hon," she said with a weak smile. "Get in and finish up."

I laid upon her, careful not to squeeze the breath out of her. Our faces were close, eyes locked, hot breath, as I entered her again. Slow, sensual strokes, the occasional kiss. It was almost romantic.

If I were to be honest, though, I mainly just wanted to get off at that point, and the sensuous, lovemaking side of sex had never gotten me too hot and bothered. Not enough positive association, I guess.

I ended up kneeling between her legs and holding her knees upright, plunging into her and practically fucking her into the mattress. She laid there sweating, limbs akimbo, too wrung out to do much more.

She was a beautiful sight, eyes and mouth half-open, tits wobbling, her skin shining wetly in the harsh overhead light. Everything was right, physically visually, to get me off with flying colors.

I was so close, but not quite there. I couldn't get over that last vital step. I couldn't figure out what was wrong. It might have been the condom, but I'd never had a problem getting off with them before.

Again, my thoughts drifted to Sydney. I thought of how easilyy my orgasm came with her, almost like getting carried away helplessly by ocean waves. Sydney, who had it her way, come hell or high water.

Sydney pinning me in place with her big, meaty body while she humped me standing up. Sydney making me eat my own cum out of her sopping hairy pussy. Sydney's bare ass and legs in the warm street light.

I felt the warmth, the point of no return. I fucked even more fiercely, until my cock soaked itself in the condom. I was somewhere else, anchored to reality only by my thrumming, ejaculating organ.

VIII.

My conscious brain opened its eyes again. Samantha was still there, on the bed in front of me, her chest and belly flushed and sweaty, her body still staked on me. I withdrew, carefully, for both our sakes.

She listlessly pointed me to the bathroom. I gave her a quick kiss on the mouth before tottering down the hall on touchy leg muscles.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, took off the sagging condom, then gingerly wiped myself clean with a few squares of toilet paper. I discreetly left the condom in the trash bin under the crumpled tissue.

When I came out, Samantha was waiting her turn, still wearing only her glasses. She was a sight to behold. Despite our difficulties and the recency of my orgasm, it crossed my mind that the night was young.

We embraced and kissed, and the kiss turned sensual, then sexual. My damp, flaccid cock started pulsing against her leg. Her nipples hardened against my chest. Then she gently pushed me away, laughing.

"You're gonna kill me, buddy," she said.

I went back to her bedroom, sat on the bed, and wiped my forehead with my shirt. I could hear the faint sound of her peeing from behind the bathroom door on the other side of the hall. Then she came back to me.

I looked up at her and said, "I guess I should be going, huh?"

"You can stay here," she said, then added, "if you want."

I thought it over, and agreed. It sounded nice. She flicked the lights off. We crawled onto the bed, feeling around, giggling when we found each other. We made out, which went nowhere. So we settled in.

"Happy Lammas," she said.

"What's that?"

"The harvest festival. It's in a few days. The first of August."

"I didn't know that."

"It's a pagan thing."

"You're pagan?"

"Some people in my family are. It didn't really take with me. But I like some of the ideas, and I like the celebrations. So I guess I kind of am."

We cuddled on top of her blankets a while in the dark, the air conditioner whirring away. At some point, it got cool enough that we made a mutual unspoken agreement to writhe and shimmy into the covers.

We laid silently in each other's arms. I thought she might have dozed off, until she abruptly murmured.

"Were you seeing Sydney?"

I had no idea why she was asking. I also wasn't sure if what Sydney and I had been doing together counted as "seeing" each other. I decided that a lot of honesty and a little bit of tact were in order.

And if I said the wrong thing, God would sort it out.

"We were fucking for a while," I said. "That's all."

"Oh," Samantha said.

When she didn't say anything more, I got nervous.

"Did somebody say something?" I asked.

"No, but it wasn't hard to figure out. She and you were always the last ones to leave for the night, and Sydney's kind of a player."

"A player?"

"Yeah. You know she had a threesome with Eliza and her boyfriend, right?"

"Yeah."

"And she has an ex-boyfriend who's still in love with her. She fucks him pretty regularly."

"Yeah."

"She knows a lot of people on the local sex party scene. She sleeps around with a lot of them."

"There's a local sex party scene?"

Samantha laughed. "It's a tourist town with a lot of beaches. Of course there are sex parties."

"Have you ever been to one?"

"I've thought about it. It's not that I'm not interested. And, from what I've heard, solo women get treated like royalty."

"But you've never been."

"No. Not yet. I've actually gotten invited a few times. I don't know why I haven't."

"Is that what Sydney does? Go solo and get treated like royalty?"

"Yeah."

"She told you this?"

"If you'd just spend a little more time with your coworkers outside of work, you'd be surprised by what can happen."

"Like tonight."

She laughed again. "Yeah. Like tonight."

"I guess Sydney was pretty open to me about some of this stuff. She didn't say anything about sex parties or whatever. I just thought she was trying to let me down gently so I didn't expect a relationship."

"I was wondering about that."

"About what?"

"If she and you had some kind of relationship."

"No. I don't think we did."

"You know she broke up with her boyfriend, right?"

"What?"

"That's why she's been gone. At first, she was distraught, then she needed time to move out of their place. She said she has a room lined up that isn't vacant just yet. I think she's couch surfing for now."

"She did say things weren't going well with the two of them. I'd worried that I had something to do with it."

"That's one thing I don't think you have anything to worry about. Anyone who's capable of dating Sydney has made peace with the way she is. You know."

"Yeah."

"I take it she's never said anything about me."

"Not about being with you. But she says you're a cute boy who doesn't know he's cute. And that you'd get more pussy if you spent less time obsessing over women and more time just talking to them."

I felt horrified, like I was having my own personal movie montage, mentally revisiting all the times I behaved awkwardly around my coworkers.

Samantha added, "She wasn't being mean. She likes you. She wants you to get laid."

"Okay. Just tell me this. I'm not a creep, am I?"

Samantha went quiet for a second. Oh my god.

Then she said, "I would say you spend more time looking at pretty girls than you spend talking to them, which probably screws up your chances with them."

"Oh god. I am a creep."

"No. You're not a creep. Believe me, I know from creeps. You're one of the more harmless guys I've known."

"Okay."

"If you were a creep, I wouldn't have invited you here."

I laid quiet for a moment. I guess Samantha didn't have anything more to add.

There was one thing I was curious about, that I couldn't help asking.

"Did you know you were going to invite me here before you did?"

"I did."

"Can I ask why?"

"First off, why not? It's like Sydney said. You're a cute boy. Also, believe it or not, girls like to get laid, too. It doesn't have to be this tragedy where you pine for us until one of us takes pity on you."

"I think you just summed up my entire adult life in one sentence."

"It sums up a lot of men."

My impulse was to ask her if I was really that common. But that seemed like the kind of self-flagellating thing that a guy of my type would say. Suddenly, I didn't feel like I wanted to be that guy anymore.

Okay. New me. Be bold.

I asked her, "Can we do this again soon?"

Gently, she said, "I'm not saying never. But let's put a pin in that for now. Okay?"

No more was said. I laid with her a while. We touched each other's bodies in little inconsequential ways. I ended up leaving her place early in the morning. I hadn't slept, nor did I sleep once I got home.

IX.

The next shift I worked, Samantha was there. The vibes between us were warm. We talked in coded ways about our evening together. It was as if two pals had simply enjoyed a nice night on the town together.

The shift after that, Samantha was off, and Sydney was back.

I didn't get a chance to speak with her, until about mid-shift, when she found me alone at the back of the store.

"Can we talk real quick?" she said.

"Sure," I said.

"Out back would be better."

We relocated to the parking lot. It was still broad daylight, and painfully hot and humid. We were both drenched the moment we set foot out the back door, closed off from the feeble air conditioning inside.

"Samantha mentioned that she and you talked," she said.

"Yes," I said. "We did talk."

"So you know I'm between places right now."

"Yeah, she mentioned that. I'm sorry."

"I'm not trying to beg here. I'm just trying to round up as many options as possible. Would you be open to me coming over? Just for tonight?"

I was a little bewildered. And, I hate to admit it, one of the first things I thought of was that Sydney and I would be alone together, in my single bedroom home, all night. I'm sure it hadn't escaped her.

New me. Be bold.

"I want to be clear," I said. "You're welcome to stay at my place for as long as you need to, no matter what. But..."

I was trying to be careful with my words, searching for the right way to finish the sentence.

"I'm gonna keep fucking you," she said. "If you want."

"Oh," I said.

Mr. Confident. Mr. Eloquent. New me.

"It's not that I'm earning my keep with sex," she said. "I need a place to stay tonight, and I want to fuck you. Those two things aren't dependent on each other."

"I'd like both of those things," I said.

She put her hand on the doorknob.

I blurted out, "I'm sorry about your boyfriend."

She turned and looked at me.

"He's an asshole," she said.

"Yeah."

She opened the door and stepped inside, and I followed her.

At the end of the night, it was her and me in the parking lot once again. I had no idea what to expect. We didn't end up doing anything except get into our cars and leave. She followed me to my place.

I invited her to stash her belongings wherever, showed her where everything was, and fixed us a snack--just sandwiches and chips. I know, I'm not a very creative chef. But I wanted to be a good host.

We chatted a little bit. I learned that she was going to move back in with her parents for a while--"this shitty little mountain town a few hours from here"--to sort out her life post-breakup.

She said, "I lost my place here, and that sucks. But I'm choosing to view it as a chance to take some time out, to figure out where I want to end up living for the next big chunk of my life."

"So maybe not here," I said.

"Probably not here."

"So I probably won't see you after the last day of work."

"My stuff is already in bags. I requested a half shift for the last day of work, and I'm going straight to the airport from there. I'm not crashing at other people's places any longer than I have to."

We finished eating in silence. Then, without speaking, we both got up and put our dishes in the sink. By some unspoken signal, I led her to the bedroom. She followed close enough that I could feel her there.

I flicked the lights on. It was messy, but not bad enough to make me feel like a slob for showing it to her. I stood next to the bed and gestured to it, as if to say, "here's the bed," like an idiot.

She came close, enough that her hot, scentless breath was in my face. I expected her to take my head in her hand and kiss me, deep sucking kisses, as she had so many times before.

Instead, she asked me, "Are you hard?"

I took stock of my tired and worn body, and I answered truthfully.

"Not really. But I'll get there."

"I want to watch you get hard."

"You want me to take my clothes off?"

"Yes."

"All of them?"

"All of them."

"What about you?"

She smiled, mischievous.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours first," she said.