Winning the Blonde Goddess Ch. 01

I gasped and groaned, barely believing that these potent sensations were being caused by a woman working her fingertips and knuckles into the soles of my bare feet, but it was happening. I tried to force my mind to remember what her fingers were doing, so that I might duplicate her actions someday, but my mind was not working at maximum efficiency that night.

"You should turn around now," Darya said, when the foot massage was over, "Now, we wash your front."

Being lathered up by Darya's wise and capable hands turned showering into an extraordinarily erotic experience. Everywhere she touched me with her fingertips, seemed to become an erogenous zone. I couldn't seem to restrain myself from moaning as she washed me from my shoulders down to my feet.

She had washed my cock and balls as she made her way down, and my cock throbbed in her hands, but she insisted that orgasms would have to wait until my hygiene was up to her high and exacting standards.

"Good thing come to those who wait, Scott," she said admonishingly when I tried to rush her.

Eventually, I was clean enough to pass for inspection, and Darya knelt gracefully before me and took my painfully erect cock in her hand and slid back my foreskin. I could feel my cock pulse in anticipation, and the head of my cock swelled in size as the blood circulation to my genitals became acute.

"I may not be able to take all of you into my mouth," Darya explained, "I have done oral sex with men before, but never were the men as enormous as you. Your size will make oral sex difficult."

I was feverish with sexual need, and my cock was so hard and erect that it ached. The throbbing in my cock was insistent and painful now, and I blurted out a terse assertion of, "Just do it!"

And I gasped when she drew the swollen head my cock into her warm, talented mouth. And then, I gasped again when she worked her fingers into the tight seam between my buttocks, and then worked them industriously into my anus.

"Hhuhh, uhhh, hhuhh," I gasped inarticulately, as her fingers fucked me in the ass, while her mouth lovingly worshipped my cock.

She took me into her mouth as much as she could, sliding the length of my shaft into her mouth, sliding it back out, inhaling huge gulps of air, and then taking my throbbing member into her mouth again.

And while her mouth worked magic on my cock, her fingers probed deep inside my ass, located my prostate gland and worked her fingertips into it. She understood my body far better than I did, and her talented fingers played my prostate gland like a virtuoso, and her tight, warm mouth, worked my cock with wickedly effective technique.

I made more inarticulate vowel-sounds as her talented mouth did magical things to my cock, and her fingers did curious and devilishly-enjoyable things to the prostate gland deep inside of me. The way Darya stimulated my body, it was like she understood my body better than I did.

The core of my sexual being throbbed with an intensity I had never experienced before. I was so overwhelmed with sexual heat and erotic stimulation; my legs became wobbly and I was unsteady on my feet.

To add to potency of this devastatingly sexual experience, Darya insisted on prolonging my orgasm. Over and over again; when I was gripped in an agonizing wave of desire, and my breathing became especially labored; Darya would remove her fingers from my ass, and remove her mouth from my cock.

I would moan in distress and sexual need every time she did this, however she insisted that I would enjoy my inevitable orgasm more, if she made me wait for it.

I thought maybe she was playing some sort of cruel prank on me, but it turns out she was right. Like a wave that has been building in strength over a thousand miles of ocean, so build the strength of the orgasm deep inside my loins. And when my cock finally erupted in Darya's mouth, the potency of my sexual release was so staggering, I almost passed out. It was like a dozen orgasms all combined into one.

I grabbed onto her wet scalp with both hands and my cock pulsed vigorously and seemed as if it exploded with gallons of fluid. It took a great deal of time, but eventually my cock stopped throbbing and my legs stopped feeling wobbly. My head finally cleared, and I began to breath almost normally.

"Was that good, Scott?" Darya asked, still on her knees, with her face in close proximity to my cock.

I had to laugh, I had just experienced the most incredible orgasm of my life, and Darya was asking me if it was good! It was like asking if a million dollars in my checking account would be good! Hell yes! This might just have been the best thing that ever happened to me!

"Oh, God," I replied, my tone reverential, "I think you're a sex goddess. I think I might just start a new religion dedicated to worshipping you."

Darya raised one eyebrow and got an amused smirk on her face, but said nothing. I don't think she took my words of admiration as seriously as I did.

. . . . .

Rehearsals continued, and my performance improved. My friendships with the other dancers improved as well. Cassandra, Christopher and Nari were all on the way to becoming my best friends. We seemed to spend a great deal of time socializing with one another, when we weren't in rehearsals. The four of us were practically family.

Darya, on the other hand, had barely said two words to me since the night she had sex with me. I was really bothered by that.

Darya was my dream date. She was everything I could ever want in a woman, and she didn't even make eye contact with me anymore. I was feeling ostracized and rejected. Did I do something wrong?

I asked Christopher about it, hoping that he would have some insights on Darya's behavior and mindset. He'd known her for longer than I had, so I thought maybe he'd understand her behavior better than I did.

Christopher and I had both been sitting on the couch, watching an episode of Big Bang Theory on TV. When I asked Christopher my question about Darya, he stiffened, got a solemn look on his face and muted the TV before responding.

"Look, I like Darya and all," Christopher said, still pointing the remote at the TV, "but I really don't think that she's girlfriend material."

"Why? What do you mean?" I asked. Darya was quite possible the most beautiful woman I had ever met. Wasn't that number one thing that guys looked for when selecting a girlfriend?

"Darya isn't exactly a people-person," Christopher replied, speaking slowly, and seeming to choose his words very carefully, "She's in love with herself. She has such a high opinion of herself that mere mortals like you and I just can't compete. She's dated several the dancers in the Chandler Theatre, she's even dated one of the choreographers. However, she'll never love anybody as much as she loves her own reflection. No matter how strong your feelings for her, you'll never be good enough for her."

"You sound like you speak from personal experience," I replied.

Christopher just gave me a pained look, and I knew he had gone through the same feeling of rejection that I was currently going through.

I didn't like to see that wounded look on Christopher's face, so I changed the subject slightly, and I asked, "So, which of the choreographers was she dating?"

"Yulia," Christopher replied, his face seeming to lose some of it's tension, now that our conversation was drifting away from him.

"Whoa," I exclaimed, "Darya and Yulia?"

That painted a really erotic picture in my mind. Yulia was a very impressive-looking woman. She was tall, slender, athletic and graceful. The thought of both Darya and Yulia naked and engaged in a night of feverish Sapphic passion was a delicious and thrilling visual indeed. I wished I could have somehow been a witness to whatever libidinous delights those two had gotten up to.

"It didn't last," Christopher said, "I think they were together for maybe two or three weeks before they broke up. That's around about how long I was with Darya too."

Christopher then proceeded to go into the kitchen and get a bottle of French single malt whiskey. He poured me a glass and brought it out to me.

It didn't take long before Christopher poured a glass for himself as well. I guess we both needed something to take the sting out of the fact that Darya was utterly beautiful, but also utterly unobtainable.

The French aren't exactly known for their whiskey, but the stuff Christopher had offered me warmed my chest and soaked my brain in a comforting elixir that numbed my emotional pain and made me feel more attractive, more desirable and less defeated.

Christopher and I proceeded to have a few more drinks, and we finished watching our show. When it was over, I had an epiphany of sorts.

On the show that Christopher and I were watching, Leonard Hofstadter was an asthmatic, bespectacled, physically-unimpressive man, however he had a crush on a woman who was young, slender and had the body of a lingerie model. She was way out of his league.

However, even though she was way out of his league and showed no interest in him whatsoever, Leonard pursued her doggedly. And even though the odds seemed to be stacked horrendously against him, Leonard's efforts finally paid off and he eventually won her over.

Following in Leonard's footsteps, I made my way over to apartment 609, knocked on Darya's door, and steeled myself for what was to come. If Leonard Hofstadter could win over the blonde goddess that lived across the hall from him, maybe I could win over the blonde goddess that lived across the hall from me.

When she answered the door, the look on Darya's face was cold and admonishing. The first words out of her mouth were, "Scott, have you been drinking?"

Somehow this seemed like a trick question, and I felt that there was no response I could give that would be deemed the correct answer, so I just ducked the question completely.

"Darya, I am infatuated with you," I said, changing the subject completely, "I respect you, I admire you, and I want to be with you. I am totally committed to being your boyfriend."

Darya looked me up and down and sighed. Then she replied, "Scott, this boyfriend-girlfriend idea of yours just isn't going to work. I am arrogant and self-centered. I am not ashamed of that. When you are a ballet dancer, and you are beautiful and talented enough to perform on stage, it is almost automatic that you become a narcissist. I can live with that, however, you are also arrogant and self-centered. When two you have two people like us in a romantic relationship together, it is bad plan. The whole thing blows up, and people get hurt."

I began to feel rejected again, but Leonard Hofstadter was now my spirit guide. What would Leonard do if his blonde goddess had just tried to brush him off the way Darya just tried to brush me off?

Feeling inspired, I replied, "Then, I won't be arrogant and self-centered anymore! I'll be the opposite of arrogant and self-centered!"

Darya gave me a dubious look and said, "You will be humble and self-sacrificing?"

This somehow seemed like a trick question as well, however, I didn't shrug this one off. Even if it was a trick, it somehow seemed important that I respond. I took a few seconds to think, and then stared into Darya's beautiful face with her high cheekbones and her alluring, crystal-blue eyes, and finally said, "Yes, I will be humble and self-sacrificing."

Darya's lips twisted into an enigmatic smile, and softly she said, "Very well, Scott. If you are serious, return here tomorrow night and I will test you on your commitment to be humble and self-sacrificing. And make sure you are sober and do not smell like a distillery next time you knock on my door."

"Tomorrow night," I said, feeling somewhat in shock that my plan had worked. It seemed important that I say something else, so I added the word, "sober."

"Yes, Scott," Darya replied, "If you return here tomorrow night at seven, and you manage to be sober, we will take it from there. Be prepared to have your commitment tested. If you fail, you will never be my boyfriend."

There was a slight pause, and then she added, "Also, shave your pubic area. All dancers do this eventually, and this could only improve your chances of becoming my boyfriend. I prefer smooth skin."

Darya shut the door to her apartment, and I wandered down the hallway and gradually made my way back to my own apartment. I didn't know what sort of tests Darya had in mind for me, but I knew I wasn't going to fail. Leonard Hofstadter was working his magic through me, and Leonard was amazing. I would win my blonde goddess no matter what it took.

. . .

The next day was a strange one. I woke up hungover and it took me a while to remember what had transpired the night before. Once I was fully awake and clear-headed it seemed amazing that I had won Darya over with such a simplistic approach.

Then, I reminded myself that I hadn't really won her over yet. I had just managed to get my foot in the door. To actually win her over, I had to be tested first. I had no idea what sort of tests Darya had in mind, but if I wanted to be her boyfriend, I'd need to submit myself to whatever tests she had in mind. I resolved to surrender myself to whatever sort of trials she had in mind for me. And I resolved to get through every test triumphantly.

I had a difficult time focusing on rehearsals that day. When a young man has feverish thoughts of carnal delights on his mind, it's not easy to focus on choreography. I made numerous mistakes in rehearsals, but I was brimming with energy. Sebastian liked my energy, and assumed that that meant I was also brimming with enthusiasm. He liked me, and assured me that he could help smooth out the rough edges in my technique, and make my performance flawless.

When rehearsals were over, I should have been exhausted, but my entire body was throbbing with a sort of libidinous excitement, and that gave me the energy to keep going, even when an ordinary person would have dropped from exhaustion. I had a tingling sensation that seemed to periodically travel across the surface of my skin and made me feel a sort of delightful thrill. Instead of being exhausted, I had a spring in my step.

When I arrived at Darya's front door, she seemed somehow more impressive. Her eyes seemed to be a more vibrant shade of blue. Her cheeks seemed to have more color. Her lips seemed more inviting. There seemed to be an irresistible gravity that drew me closer to her, and I moved forward as if to pull her into a kiss, but then Darya planted a strong hand in the middle of my chest, and gave me an admonitory look and said, "No, Scott."

I reflexively took a step back, and then she said, "This is not a game. You are here to be tested and evaluated. You will not become my boyfriend until I decide that you have passed all my tests."

I nodded in agreement to this, and she made a gesture, that indicated I should come inside.

Once the door was closed behind me, Darya asked, "Scott, are you familiar with the twelve labors of Hercules?"

"Um," I said wittily, "Not really. Should I be?"

"It is relevant to your situation," Darya replied, "Hercules was tasked by the king of Mycenae with twelve labors, twelve very difficult tasks. If Hercules performed all twelve tasks successfully, he was to be rewarded with immortality and eternal youth."

"Where is Mycenae?" I asked, "I've never heard of it."

"It is a city in Greece," Darya replied.

"How can you be king of a city?" I asked, "Kings are supposed to rule entire countries. If all this guy ruled was a Greek city, shouldn't he be the duke of Mycenae, or the mayor of Mycenae or something?"

Darya gave me a cold look and imperiously said, "Scott, I can spend the evening educating you on Ancient Greece, or I can spend the evening testing you on your commitment to being humble and obedient. Choose which one is important to you, because I am not doing both."

Technically, I had promised to be humble and self-sacrificing, not humble and obedient, but I didn't correct her. I realized that correcting her would be a breach of etiquette. I was here to prove that I wouldn't let my ego get in the way of a relationship with Darya. Correcting her would just make me look arrogant, and sabotage my efforts to prove that I could be humble. I ignored the fact that she got the words wrong, and instead said, "Ancient Greece isn't all that important to me. I'm here to prove myself to you."

"Excellent," Darya replied, "I am not offering you immortality and eternal youth, however if you pass my tests, I will reward you. You will become my beloved companion. That is something that motivates you, yes?"

She stood there with her hands on her hips, and then she licked her luscious lips, slowly and alluringly. It was a simple action, but one that seemed rich with erotic promise.

"Oh, yes," I replied, my voice weak and just barely audible, "I'm very highly motivated."

"Excellent," Darya replied, sounding even more vigorous and enthusiastic, "You will be given twelve difficult labors. Each one will likely be more difficult than the one that came before, however, if you pass all twelve, you will be rewarded."

The way Darya pronounced the word rewarded, made it sound like one of the most erotic words in the English language. It was like sex dipped in chocolate. My whole body seemed to tingle in response when I heard her talk like that.

My body felt feverish, and my mouth felt dry as Darya told me how difficult it was going to be for me to pass her tests, however, I told her I was resolved to take every test, and I felt a powerful drive to pass them all.

"That is great news," Darya said, "Once you get undressed we can get started."

"Um, what?" I said, taken aback and confused.

"Your clothes," Darya elaborated, "you must take them off before we get started. As you are attempting to prove how humble and submissive you can be, most of the tests will take place while I am fully clothed, and you are utterly naked. It will help to show your willingness to allow me to enjoy a status that is clearly superior to yours."

Once again Darya altered the words of my agreement. I said I would be humble and self-sacrificing, not humble and submissive, however I didn't correct her. It seemed to me that this might be a subtle test for me, or a verbal trap of sorts. She said she couldn't be with someone who was arrogant and self-centered. If I started correcting her mistakes, wouldn't that make me sound arrogant? I was fairly certain that it would.

Being ordered to strip surprised me, but I found my already inflamed sexual passions being stirred up even more at her demands. Somehow when Darya aloofly ordered me to strip naked, it added a dark, delicious sexual flavor to the situation.

Back when I lived in White Plains one of my friends had a DVD which he assured me was the most erotic movie in the history of the human race. Approximately twenty-nine minutes into the movie there's a scene where two female FBI agents order a courier/drug smuggler to submit to a strip search. The FBI agents are stern and authoritarian. The courier is humbled and subdued. She strips naked with her eyes downcast, and her attitude one of silent defeat. As I stripped naked, I felt almost like I was the courier in that movie.

I didn't understand why, but the dynamic where one of us was in a position of authority, and one of us was in a position of subordination seemed to add a dark, erotic deliciousness to the situation, just like in that DVD with the female FBI agents. Up until that evening I had never really thought that the idea of a man being powerless and servile in the hands of a stern, authoritative woman would be erotic or exciting, but when Darya ordered me to strip naked, and said that she would have a superior and dominant status over me, my cock throbbed insistently; and I got butterflies in my stomach.