A Real Education
Suddenly, I was public property in a small way. It was an odd sensation. In a certain sense, you do write to seduce the world, but then when it happens, you begin to feel like a whore.
Erica Jong, Fear of Flying
Blogging, I’ve read, is a good way to meet people. There are certainly plenty of examples of guys whose online musings have inspired meetings out there in what we call the real world. Some writers even make such encounters their explicit intent. I hadn’t given the idea of meeting someone much thought until a couple of months ago when I began to receive correspondence from female readers. Men generally want to know where the party is, or else seem to think I need more dick in my life. Women are masters of the subtle hint—their notes are unassuming.
When a female reader was bold enough to invite me out to “chat sometime, fully clothed, maybe over coffee,” I was curious to see how she’d respond to the real me. I rolled into the cavernous Freight 410 on Thursday night, scanning the post-work crowd for a woman named Natalia. Not seeing her on my first run through, I strode up to the bar and ordered a beer. I left a message on her cell, thinking about returning home in a while and snuggling up on the couch next to Les. Just a drink or two, I thought. Gotta see this through.
Natalia called. “I’m walking up to you,” she said. I spied movement in my peripheral vision and turned to face a pretty, fresh-faced black girl with straight, shoulder-length hair and a tight body. She wore snug lavender pants and a black tee that strained against her ample breasts. I smiled. I couldn’t help myself.
“You look great,” I said. I told her I’d never met anyone through the NLP. She said she’d never met anyone online; it had taken her a month-and-a-half to get up the nerve to write to me. She’s young, a recent NYU grad. We talked about books and I was happy to discover she’s an avid reader—so few of the girls I meet have any patience for literature. As we talked, she opened her body to me, breasts grazing my arm. “These are double dees,” she said, flashing two fingers in a vee formation. Natalia asked what I want out of life. “I want to have sex with beautiful women,” I said, “make a decent living, and completely change the way people think. In any order you like.”
“I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do now that I’ve met you,” she said.
“Well, why did you ask me out?”
“I told you; we go to a lot of the same places. I was fascinated by the idea that I might have run into you somewhere before. And I’ve always had these fantasies about group sex. I want to know more.”
“No, why really did you ask me out?”
She smiled coyly, “I don’t know. I recently broke up with my boyfriend.”
“That’s not good enough,” I chided. “I know why you came here, I know why you read me, and I know what you want. Look at these people around you. Underneath this veneer of civility there’s an unspoken erotic tension. You want to lift that veil. You aren’t satisfied with idle fantasies. You’re ready to begin your real education.”
I fixed my eyes upon hers, feeling the eroticism of her innocence, her expression a mixture of curiosity, desire and trepidation. “Are you afraid of me?”
She nodded slowly, her big eyes mirroring my gaze. I looked away, fearing I might fall in.
“Good,” I responded casually. “I’m afraid you won’t be as excited by me when the fear wears off.”
“I’m going to the bathroom. Watch my drink… and don’t put any powder in it.” She rubbed her index finger and thumb together over the highball glass.
I smiled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Where would the fun be in that? Now turn around and run along. I want to check out your ass.” My eyes followed her firm peach of a rump up the stairs and watched it disappear behind the bathroom door.
When Natalia emerged from the loo I walked back to have a turn. I met her at the bottom of the stairs and tried impulsively to impose my lips upon her. She pulled back a bit so I grabbed her narrow waist and drew her to me. She smiled and threw back her head. My lips grazed her neck. Finally she stopped squirming and allowed me a chaste kiss. I released her and went to take a piss (“Don’t put any powder in my drink,” I said). When I returned an Asian guy was hovering over her, a colleague of hers. For a moment I feared Natalia might be a female player, not quite as guileless as she came across. I excused myself for a smoke. When I came back he was still there, sitting in my seat now. She looked into my eyes and turned to face me, blowing off her colleague as politely as possible.
“You might be too young for me,” I said.
A doleful expression transformed the map of her face. Her eyes grew even larger, if such a thing were possible. I almost regretted what I had said. “Really?”
“You and your puppy dog eyes. You have to stop—a man has no defense against that. Look, this summer I almost swore off girls under twenty-five.”
“And why is that?”
“On the whole they’re conniving, selfish, overly dramatic and have no idea what they want.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Oh, but you do. You do.”
We took a cab to the East Village to meet a friend of Natalia’s. In the back seat we studied each other’s faces. “What?” one of us would ask, smiling. “Nothing,” the other would respond.
Natalia’s friend was tall, black, with short hair. She was at the Black Star with a German guy who had an inch on me. Not that I paid much attention. Natalia and I stood there, face-to-face, dancing but not dancing, both of us delirious. I pressed her to me and felt her knockers rub against my chest. I grabbed her firm peach of an ass. We sat down against the wall and kissed wantonly. Every time I pulled back she would take my lower lip between her soft, full lips and suck. I squeezed her breasts and placed my hand down the back of her pants. I placed her hand over the bulge of my cock.
“You need to go to a sex party,” I was saying, rattling off sections of my sexual syllabus, “you need to try threesomes, foursomes. Maybe guys at either end, too. You, of course, have to fuck me and Les. In the orgy scene there are a lot of people looking to fuck any hole, as long as it’s new—still, you need to see it. Our private parties are more intimate. I want to fuck a person, not just a hole. I want there to be some aftermath. I want to change someone.”
I asked her if she’d had any experiences with women. “Yes, one time,” she said.
“What? First base? Second base?”
“I don’t know. We kissed and I touched her.”
“Down there?”
“Down there,” she laughed. “That’s funny. Yes, I touched her down there.”
We decided to leave the bar and I spent ten minutes looking for Natalia’s errant coat. She was oddly serene throughout all this. I finally found it in a corner far away from where we had been sitting. Outside we kissed and talked about what to do next. Imposing on Leslie this late wasn’t an option; Natalia’s place in Brooklyn seemed far far away in the sharp cold. “I want to stay with you,” she said. Her friend suggested a party over at Lotus. I bummed a Gauloise from the German before he left us.
Lotus was packed, so we headed downstairs to a cozy back room. Natalia and I danced in earnest this time, her tight body writhing against me expertly. She mouthed the words to every song. We went to get a drink and when we returned our coats had disappeared. We just looked at each other, shrugged, and sat down. Soon she was on top of me, giving me a lap dance that quickly degenerated into dry humping. I placed one hand on her d cups while straining to reach her clitoris with the other. I pulled my middle finger out and stuck it in her mouth, making her taste herself, and she went to work on it as if it were a cock. Heyyyy yaaaaaah, the music said.
The night took on a surreal, druggy quality. This isn’t real, I thought. This ain’t happening. After the back-and-forth of recent months, her willingness almost seemed suspect. “You’re going to be my sex slave,” I whispered in her ear, “and I’m going to be yours.”
She smiled and gazed upon me more confidently now. “You smell like baby powder.”
Natalia’s friend came back leading another gentleman friend by the hand. “Damn, you two need to go into the back if you’re going to be doing this,” she scolded, gesturing at an empty lounge. We made our way back there and I pushed Natalia onto the couch, lifting her shirt and taking her chocolate nipples between my lips. A flashlight shone in our direction. I pulled Natalia’s shirt down and looked over to see some guy standing a few feet away, giving us a stern look. “Aye, what are you lookin at?” I said. He informed us we’d have to stop. Can’t risk anyone having too much fun. Oh how I longed for the good old days of Centro Fly, of after-hours orgies in the VIP room when the cleaning crew kept their heads down and swept around us, of late nights at Chelsea Grill when the girls’ tops came off and anything could happen.
Soon we were on our way out. The wandering coats had miraculously checked themselves, so at least we wouldn’t be clinging together coatless in the extreme cold. I considered returning home but was determined to see Natalia naked. Her friend invited us over for drinks but Natalia shook her head. “No, he’s coming home with me,” she said confidently. Brooklyn, I thought, egads. The gentleman friend vanished into the cold and the three of us piled into a cab. I’m committed now, I remember thinking as we left the safe confines of Manhattan, skyscrapers receding into the void.
“So, you’re cheating on your girlfriend?” the friend asked.
I laughed, “No, not at all. She knows what I’m up to tonight.”
“Well, I’m not going to argue with you, but it sure sounds like cheating to me.”
I wasn’t about to go into a long-winded explanation. People believe whatever it is they want to believe; whatever keeps them sane. Natalia squeezed my hand and nuzzled her cheek against my chest. “You don’t have to justify your life to anyone,” she said softly.
A few minutes later Natalia and I were bracing against the cold, fiddling with the frozen lock to her apartment—I imagined being trapped on the desolate streets among sleepy row houses. We both worked at the lock for a while until finally it gave way. We made our way up the darkened stairs and into her room, where she packed a bowl and handed the colorful glass pipe to me. She stripped down to a red thong and a matching bra. Her ass was everything it had promised to be—tight, round, just waiting to cushion my thrusts.
“Are you still afraid of me?” I asked as I was unhooking her bra, watching her massive tits tumble out.
“A little… but I’m glad you’re here. I don’t have much experience with guys; I’ve never taken someone home like this.”
“I prefer it that way. You aren’t jaded. You’ll be all the more excited because everything’s so new to you. Consider this part of your education. You don’t have anything to worry about around me. I’m gonna push you, but in a good way.” I gave her breasts a firm squeeze, pausing to admire them. “Funny how our date turned out.”
“If this had been a regular date I wouldn’t have brought you home.”
“So, you’re like my groupie now.”
She laughed. “Quit it.”
I let my hands cruise over her body, feeling the smoothness of her dark skin. My cock was nagging me so I brought it into the open. I began to remove her thong and she brought her hand down in token resistance. I pinned her arms behind her head and pulled the panties down, revealing a tight little cunt decorated with a thin welcome mat of pubic hair. She was giving me that shy expression I had first seen at Freight, trepidation and desire mingling in her innocent eyes. “Don’t worry; I wouldn’t fuck you tonight even if you were ready. I try not to fuck on the first date.”
“You try not to?”
“Yeah, well, sometimes it can’t be avoided.”
I teased her clitoris and then pushed a couple of fingers deep inside her. She gasped. I pounded her with my fingers, working my thumb against her labia. I talked to her, said the dirty things that begged to be said. I told her I would fuck both of her holes, that I’d pound her from behind while she buried her face in Leslie’s cunt. Soon she was shuddering, quaking. She pushed my hand away. We repeated this cycle several times, sometimes bringing my tongue into play.
“I bet you’re a good fuck,” she said.
“I’d like to think so.” I placed her hand on my cock and guided it up and down my shaft. I straddled her and placed my tool between her tits, occasionally pushing forward to tease her lips with it. I made her stick her tongue out and lick me. I was anxious to sully her in some way, to mark myself upon her. She lay on her stomach with her head at my feet while I toyed with her ass and stroked my cock. God thought highly enough of the female asshole to place it less than an inch away from the cunt. How can the anus not be eroticized? I told her I was going to come on her and pointed my cock at her left buttock, greeting the wave of release that washed over me. I watched as that trembling thing between my legs painted the left side of her ass in thick, syrupy, unhurried spurts. Immediately I felt exhausted.
“Did you like that?” I asked, admiring my copious output as I lazily traced wet circles in her soft skin.
“It felt warm,” she purred. I toweled her off and collapsed next to her with a sigh.
In the morning I watched Natalia go about her ritual, gazing intently at her ass and breasts every time she bent over to retrieve something from the floor. The television droned on quietly in the background, calling all Americans to morning prayers in praise of work, money, celebrity.
“Do you know what you’re going to write about me yet?”
“I need to sleep on it,” I said as I stood up, blinking in the light. “I’m trying to figure out what happened last night.” It was as if I’d started here and had yet to experience the beginning.
On the train into Manhattan a comfortable silence settled over us as we slouched on graffiti-repellent plastic seats. I fantasized about tall glasses of orange juice. Natalia eyed me intently as I studied the advertising copy directly across from us. I turned to look at her. “You still smell like baby powder,” she said.
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