17 comments/ 15324 views/ 41 favorites Mathematical By: nightsearcher His name is Mark, and he has no idea why he's at this bar. It started a week ago. Not his visit, that is, but his reason for coming. Being juniors in college, his friends were all rejoicing in their newfound ability to legally drink- despite the fact that he, still being twenty, could not. As the first semester's finals ended yesterday, the gang had all decided that celebration via public intoxication was the way to go. He didn't often go out, though he felt guilty about it. Socializing with strangers was just hard for him. It was why this group, whom he'd met at his summer orientation before freshman year, was the only group of friends he had. But he'd blown them off on outings all semester, so it seemed like the end of finals was a good enough reason to break the trend. But then, an hour ago, Eric texted him to cancel. Ten minutes later, Ashley bailed too. Dave announced via their facebook thread that he was sick when Mark got into the line before the bouncer, and his partner Evelyn followed suit as he walked through the door. He held out hope that Cynthia might show for ten minutes, but as he leaned awkwardly against a wall in a vain attempt to seem nonchalant, her inevitable apology rang from his phone. So here he was, in a bar he'd never gone to before, with no one he'd ever spoken to or made eye contact with, and he couldn't even get drunk. And he'd blown ten bucks on the cover charge, too. Tonight was going to be the best night of his life, clearly. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone again and opened his ebook reader. At least the music here would suit the new sci-fi novel he'd downloaded. About thirty minutes passed in this manner before a nicely manicured hand reached over his screen and pulled it away. He jumped, and looked over to see that a girl—a hot girl, at that—had taken it from him and was reading in his stead. "Hey, uh," he stammered, "that's mine." "I figured, seeing as you were reading it rather than listening to me," she responded without looking up. "This looks pretty good. Who's it by?" He shifted uncomfortably. "I, what? Give me back my phone, what the fuck." She grinned—oh my god, he thought— and offered it back. "Sorry, maybe I'm being too forward. I'm Alyssa. I've passed you three times to ask if you wanted a drink, but you kept ignoring me. I wanted to see what was more interesting than me." "I, uh, I didn't hear you. Sorry. The music in here is kind of loud, and I was distracted, er," She flashed him that amazing smile again, nearly stopping his heart as he floundered for words. "You're more of a talker than I expected! It's okay, I'm just razzing you. But my ego's a little hurt! Are you gonna take me up on that drink, or should I go fuck myself so you can keep reading?" "Uh, sure. Wait! I mean, yes, I'd like a drink. You don't have to go fuck yourself." He cursed inwardly, as this was going terribly. She gestured towards the bar. "Well, c'mon. What'll you have?" He followed her over, not sure what to make of the situation. An alarmingly pretty girl was going out of her way to talk to him, and even wanted to buy him a drink? No way. He wasn't an ugly dude, but neither was he anything to write home about. This had to be some kind of set-up. The bartender looked up at the girl, ignoring him. "Hey, Lyss. Whatcha drinkin'?" "A whiskey and coke, Jack." She smiled, as though telling an inside joke. "You want the Daniels, or the well?" The tender seemed to be in on it. "The real thing. And whatever this strapping young man wants." Jack—if that was his name? Mark wasn't sure at this point— finally looked at him. "I'll have the same, please." The bartender raised an eyebrow at the girl, who winked. Shrugging, he poured the drinks quick as a flash and pushed them across, turning to tap his screen. "Putting this on your tab, then. To your health!" Mark took his drink as casually as he could, taking a small sip. The whiskey rolled over his tongue, burning a little bit but not terribly. It was much better than the ugly taste of the vodka that Eric insisted on buying. Shit, the girl was talking to him again. "What was that?" he asked. "My god, you're really bad at listening!" She sighed, and took a big gulp of her drink. "I said, we should go sit down. C'mon, the roof has a porch where you can feel the breeze." "Sorry. Sure, lead the way." He took another sip as she led him across the room again towards a set of stairs. Whiskey. He was going to have to insist on getting it for the next party he attended. Her legs looked really fucking good going up the stairs, he thought, as he almost tripped watching them go. "Here, this is my favorite place to sit," she said with a gesture towards the railing. He sat as directed, wondering if she was going to explain why she was talking to him after all. "So, what are you studying?" What? "Er, I'm a history major. I'm studying Europe right now." "All of Europe, huh? Seems like a lot to take in." He frowned a little. "No, no, it's more complicated than that. I-" "I'm sure, I'm just giving you a hard time. You're kind of cute when you get flustered." That stopped him in his tracks. "I, what?" She chuckled softly, and patted his leg while she took another drink. "Like that, yeah. It's adorable. And I'm nobody to talk, I'm a graduate student in discrete mathematics. I don't have any room to be teasing someone else for a nerdy major." He considered that for a moment. "I guess all majors are kind of nerdy when you get down to it." She shook her head. "No, not theatre majors. Those are just fucking dorks." He laughed, and then caught himself. Is this... small talk? Why is a pretty girl like her small-talking with me? She raised her eyebrow at him, and he covered his pause by hastily taking another drink. "So, Mister Sits-In-A-Corner-Reading, what's your name?" He gulped heavily, and then coughed. "Uh, I'm Mark. Why do you ask?" She tilted her head a little to the side. "Well, I did just buy you a drink. It's probably polite to at least ask your name before I take you home." He blushed as red as his shirt, and she cracked up. "Oh my gosh, you're adorable! I'm just teasing you again. Don't worry, I won't eat you up without asking permission. No, I just saw you looking like a wallflower and I wanted to see what your story was." He very studiously made eye contact with his drink. "I, uh, sorry. I don't really get out much." "You don't say." "Hush! You're being kind of mean. All of my friends bailed on me and then you come along buying me drinks and saying distracting things. Who put you up to this? Was it Eric? I'm gonna kick his ass." He realized he was babbling, and stopped. For once, she was silent, so he turned to apologize. "Sorry, I-" "You apologize so much. Are you Canadian?" He frowned again. She sighed, and looked up at the sky. "No, I don't know Eric. If it's so weird for you to talk to me, I'll just go. Sorry to bother you." She stood and started to walk away. "Wait. That was mean of me, too." Alyssa stopped, and turned back. "Oh thank god. I was going to feel really ugly if I got shot down by a history nerd." She was razzing him again. Maybe he should..? "Well, that's what math is for in history. Divide and conquer." She scowled at him a little. "That didn't even make any sense, but you get half-credit for trying." She sat back down. Shockingly, the rest of the night seemed to fly past. Alyssa, it turned out, was three years older than he was, enrolled the same university, and lived two blocks from him in one of the really nice apartment complexes just outside of campus. She also chugged her whiskey like a lifer, leaving to get four more refills for herself and one for him as the night went on. She was a biting tease, but as he got used to it he found it charming in a shithead sort of way. She seemed genuinely interested in listening to him talk about what he was studying, which was a surprise as he had never been met with anything but polite silence prior. "Hey, I'm pretty sure that was last call," she said suddenly. "What's last call?" She looked at him in confusion, and then smiled. "Oh, you're probably never here that late. Last call is-" "I've never been here at all, actually" "-is when the bar is about to close, so they shut down the bar about fifteen minutes early so people can get any last drinks before they go." He nodded. "Makes sense, then. Do you need one more to top you off, then?" She shook her head. "No, I'd end up taking you home for real if I did that." He blushed again as she continued. "And while I'm sure it would be delightful, I think you'd probably fall asleep on me as soon as you got through the door. No, let's vamoose so we can avoid the door rush." He followed her down the stairs and through the bar towards the entrance, still bemused. She really needed to quit it with the fake come-ons. As they left, she gestured towards him with an elbow. "Does my maiden fair require my arm as we walk?" He rolled his eyes. "And you were calling ME a nerd. Come on, it's cold. Do the busses even run this late?" She nodded, then turned to set off briskly. "There's three more busses heading our way after last call. We can catch the second if we walk fast, or the first if we run." "What about the third?" "Well, if you want to freeze your balls off waiting an hour at the stop, you can be my guest." Fair enough, he thought. He walked beside her, noticing for the first time that she stood almost as tall as his six feet. Lot of leg on her, he decided. They reached the stop shortly, breath steaming in the chill of night. For the season, it was startlingly warm, but still cold enough to make him regret the threadbare state of his coat. "So, are you gonna come out again next week?" "Uh, I dunno. I don't really go out all that much." She pouted softly. "That's a terrible way to decline. Come on, what's the worst that could happen? A hot babe like me buys you more drinks?" "I, well. I should probably be honest with you here." She cocked an eyebrow. "What, have you been lying? Oh no. Please don't tell me you're a theatre major. I would feel so betrayed if I bought drinks for a theatre major." He laughed despite himself. "No, it's not that. I'm, uh. I'm gay. I'm sorry I didn't say anything." She stared at him blankly as the bus rolled up to the stop. They got on, her still silent. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Why would that change me wanting you to come out?" "What?" She frowned at him, crossing her arms. "I mean, sure, I was hitting on you, but that's just my thing, you know? Like, you're cute and all but why would you being gay mean I wouldn't want you to come out again?" "I dunno, I just figured what with all the talk about taking me home and all..." She huffed a little. "Well, sure. You've got that 'please tie me up and tease me' vibe going on, and maybe it's a shame you aren't into girls. Still, you never know. Maybe you're bi and you don't know it. Maybe I just want someone who doesn't gag on decent whiskey to sit with me and chat about nothing in particular, you nerdlord." He shrugged helplessly. "Well, okay. I'm sorry I got weird on you about it. I guess I can come out again if it's that important to you." Her face cleared, and she hit him with that gloriously distracting smile again. If only she was a guy, he thought wistfully. "Alright then! It's a, uh, a date. A date on the calendar, upon which we will hang out and get shitfaced on. Sound good?" "Uh, yeah. Sure thing." "Great! Get the fuck off the bus." "What?" "This is your stop, Mark. See you soon!" He got the fuck off the bus. It would be convenient to say the week passed in a flash. It didn't. It dragged on and on, like a bad simile, or a shitty anecdote told in maudlin manner by an aged and potentially senile grandfather hell-bent on wasting as much of his grandchildren's time as he could so that they'd accomplish nothing more than he did before kicking the bucket into the endless void that wa- "Hey, Mark! I thought for sure you'd bail on me." Alyssa had wandered into the room, jolting him from his spiraling reverie. He waved as she approached. "I see we're still doing the cool kid act and leaning against a wall like a badass, then. Where's your book?" He shrugged. "I finished it when I woke up last Saturday. I don't have anything new yet." She grimaced. "I know the feeling. In math, we don't get new books but every decade." He rolled his eyes as she laughed at her own joke. "So, will I be buying the drinks again tonight?" He smiled brightly at this. "Only until midnight." She looked sideways at him. "Aw, are you gonna ditch me early?" He shook his head and pulled out his wallet. "No, no. I mean that—" pulling his ID out with a flourish "-I'll be turning 21 at midnight, so I can buy my own." She pulled back, then smiled back. "You really are an idiot! If you think a cutie like you has to buy their own drinks on their birthday, you've got another thing coming." He floundered for words at that, and she grabbed his ID and showed it to the bartender. "My friend here is going to be celebrating a very important date tonight. What've you got that'll make him regret it in the morning?" The bartender— Jack, if he recalled?— rolled his eyes at her. "Lyss, you make my job a fucking hell. Since you're family, I'm going to pretend like you didn't show me that after all the drinks you were pouring into him last week." She flashed him that radiant smile, though it didn't seem to affect him the same way as it did Mark. Of all the unfair things in life, he morosed. Jack turned around and grabbed a few bottles, mixing their contents in a shaker expertly. He poured them out quickly over ice, turning back to hand Mark a drink as blue as the ocean. He sniffed it gingerly. "Whoa, what the hell is this thing?" he blurted. It positively reeked! "House special. Guaranteed to knock you flat on your ass. Happy birthday, it's on the house. Don't go tattling or I'll cut your balls off." Pinching his nose, Mark tilted the glass back and took a swallow. Alyssa laughed hysterically as he gulped and then spluttered, slamming the cup back down. It was solid liquor! It burned like hell! "What -hack- the fuck -cough- is this?" he gasped. "Jack calls it an 'Adios, Motherfucker.'" supplied Alyssa gleefully. "Adios, motherfucker," Jack called from the other side of the bar. "Adios, motherfucker!!" called back several people from around the room. Mark turned and gestured to the room with the drink, and then flipped them all the bird. A few laughed before they turned back to their drinks and conversations. "You could have at least warned me," he griped at the girl. "What, and spoil the fun? Nah. Besides, you held it down pretty well. I'm impressed." Why the fuck did that make him blush? "Jack, hit me with some whiskey. I gotta get my talk on, you know what I'm saying?" "She's saying she needs to talk," Mark chimed in. Jack emptied a bottle into a tall glass over ice and slid it down the bar to her with a flourish and a bird of his own. Taking it, she started toward the stairs. Mark grabbed his glass and made to follow. "So, why didn't you tell me it'd be your birthday?" Mark shrugged. "Total honesty, I forgot. Some random bimbo from the bar threw me off my game so I didn't have my head on straight." She playfully slapped his arm. "Wow, harsh! Don't be fucking rude. Here I am getting you free illegal drinks and keeping you company when you're out of books to read, and this is the thanks I get." "I'd kiss your ego better, but I think it'd poison me." "Wow! Okay!" "Hey, it's my birthday and I'm not getting laid tonight. Let me be a little catty." She cocked an eyebrow. "Y'know, that doesn't have to be the case..." He waved his hand at her. "Gay, remember?" "A little experimentation never hurt anybody! Though I didn't mean it that way. I'm positive that there are other gay guys here. It's your birthday, you really think no one would consider taking you home?" He pondered that for a minute while she did some heavy damage to her whiskey. Inspired, he braced himself and took another chug of his hell-drink, and managed to swallow without embarrassing himself like before. "Careful, that's gonna knock you on your ass if you drink it too fast." "Look who's talking, Miss Drinks-It-Straight." "I don't wanna hear it! Whiskey'll put hair on your chest, girly-man." He laughed. "Will it? Let's see yours, then." She frowned slightly, called out, but then her jaw set. "Alright then, fine." She set her drink down and reached for the hem of her shirt, and before Mark could react she whipped it up and over her breasts. They were magnificent, he thought. Easily big enough to fill his broad hands. Maybe a D-cup? He had never tried understanding cup sizes before. As she yanked her shirt back down, he became aware of two things: firstly, that he, a presumably gay man, had definitely been checking her out. Secondly, he definitely had a boner right now. Well, this was really weird. "What, no comment?" "I, uh. Well. I didn't see any hair, so your point kinda fell apart. They looked okay though. For titties, anyway." She harrumphed at him, and took another swig of whiskey. An awkward silence followed. "I can't believe I showed a guy my tits on his birthday and all he noticed was that they didn't have hair," she muttered. He didn't know what to say about that, so he tried to surreptiously fix his boner before she noticed. "OH. Well, okay, I feel better now." Shiiiit. She noticed. "Quietnooneaskedyou," he mumbled in embarrassment. "This never happens, I swear." She leaned over, her face full of imminent teasing. "You got a bo~ner," she singsonged. "Score one for the Lyssmaster." "I. It's the alcohol talking. My instincts got drunk and forgot what I'm into." "Sure, sure. It's okay to be a closet hetero, Mark. I won't judge." He flushed bright red, and then had to swat her hand as it started to slide up his leg. "Hey, none of that. You said you were gonna get me laid with a hot gay guy tonight." She drew back, still smiling. "Oh, did I? That's awfully specific wording. I'm not sure I said that." "Wellll, it's my birthday and that's what I want for my present. So you should make it happen." Alyssa shrugged. "Alright. Go get me some more whiskey." He went. Two such whiskeys later and at the end of his AMF, Mark was beginning to doubt the likeliness of this working. Alyssa was a superb wingwoman, but unfortunately his innate awkwardness just wasn't going to let this work. He kept fumbling compliments and embarrassing himself. As the third guy walked off rolling his eyes, he slumped against the girl. "I'm hopeless. I don't know how to pick people up. Let's just call it a night." She put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a good pat. "There, there, you big nerd. Let's go back to my place." He shook his head. "Alyssa, please." She bapped him softly with her empty glass. "Ah, none of that. I've got a gallon of ice cream that needs eating. Help me stay skinny and gimme a hand with it." He shrugged. "Beats striking out again. Let's just go." Mark wasn't sure how he got where he was, pinned down against an unfamiliar couch with a soft pair of lips wrapped around the head of his cock, but overall it wasn't terrible. The walk to the bus was kind of a blur. After tabbing out, Alyssa insisted that he take her elbow as he was 'fucking shitfaced, dude, you're gonna trip and fall if you don't hang on to me.' This time he took her up on it, though it turned out to be more of a detriment as he kept laughing about the absurdity of the situation and almost knocking her over. Eventually they made it to the stop, and after a solid ten minutes of drunken giggling and trying to regain their composure, the bus arrived. Mathematical Madness Mathematical Madness It's a mathematical fact, (you may read about it somewhere) that given the present population, the number of word processors presently in use, and the amount of available words in even the largest dictionary, by the year 2007 every possible combination of words, punctuation, and numbers will have been generated. In other words, every possible story, poem, book, article and report will have been written. By that time all original thought as communicated in words will cease, since every possible thing to say, has already been said. This problem is even more acute for erotica writers simply because the subset of language devoted to erotica is so much smaller than the vocabulary available to mainstream writers. While erotica can delve into some pretty unique phrasing and vocabulary, we all still face the inevitable fate that, with so many people writing so many words in so many places, the possible combinations of these words are dwindling down to an orgasmic few. The future may seem ominous, but there is something we can do, there is a way we can delay this impending doom and perhaps even eradicate it. Every erotic poet and writer, if they follow this strategy, can help increase the overall erotic vocabulary available to us all and thereby increasing the possible combination of words for stories exponentially. We must resolve ourselves to invent a new erotic word, phrase, or position in each and everything we write. For instance, in an early non-erotic study of possible alternate word usages I wrote a short story where all verbs were replaced by proper names (A Midsummer’s Night Dave): ” Hamlet wallyed the louvered door as it sallyed open, then closed and open again. Pretentious name, Hamlet's mother always lucyed Shakespeare, so she nonnied him Hamlet. "To bea or not to bea," Hamlet repeted for the nine thousand, eight hundred and fifty third time. "That iggys the question." This example is geared toward a non-erotic content, but can easily be modified for use in erotic content, by simply replacing a sexual verb with a proper name. For example, if you were to say, “He bent her over the bed and slipped his throbbing cock into her dripping pussy,” using this technique, this riveting line of prose could become: “He bettyed her over the bed and silviaed his tomming cock into her deborahing pussy.” Certainly this measure will take a lot of getting used to, and it will take a very discerning reader to fully appreciate what you are doing to save our society as we know it, but with just a little patience and understanding, we can increase our sexual vocabulary tenfold. Obviously there are other ways to increase this vocabulary, other solutions to this ever increasing problem, and though we may not all agree on the precise solution, we must understand and address the problem somehow. Another possibility would be to introduce foreign words for sexual anatomy, a solution I investigated in a story about a soldier and a Vietnamese prostitute (A Rat’s Return): “As she stood, Edwin untied and unlaced his boots enough to remove them. He then stood up, taking off his pants, jockey shorts and socks. He stood in front of her, his small du’o’ng vat standing firm and rigid. She removed her panties then reached and took his du’o’ng vat in her hands, lightly stroking it. He reached to her pubis, slipping his fingers between her moi, gently parting them. Feeling her moisture he pressed further, finding the entrance to her vo boc. She gasped as he slid his fingers inside, pressing herself towards him. He continued stroking him for a moment, as he pressed his fingers deeper into her.” This approach will not only increase our vocabulary, but readers will also have the unique opportunity to learn some very important words in other languages. Imagine a vacation or business trip to Vietnam where you can proudly walk up to a man or woman and ask if you can see their vo boc or moi. The results may be inspiring. The important thing is that we recognize and begin to do something about this problem, for if we don’t we will only be able to take solace in the fact that, when the last possible original arrangement of words is written, this insane madness we call literature will be over. Hmm, if that happens we can then go back to normal lives. Remember what a normal life was like? You know, walking around without carrying a note pad in case an erotic thought hits you, going to a book store and casually walking past the all the books, or driving with both hands on the wheel instead of one hand holding a diet Pepsi, while the other hand jots down a poem or story. I guess reconsidering it all, in the year 2007, we all will be able to shout the words of the old spiritual "Free at last, free at last...” Well, perhaps not, it has already been said. Mathematical He did not remember anything about the bus ride. The next thing he knew, he was laying on her couch with her trying to get him to sit up. "C'mon, you lazy ass. Don't go passing out on me now. You gotta chug some gatorade and eat something, or you're gonna have a fuckugly hangover tomorrow." "Leave me here to die," he whined back. "I probably deserve a hangover." She pushed him again, frowning. "Okay, sure, that's the traditional first morning as a newly-legal drinker, but have you considered the fact that I'm making pizza rolls?" He sat bolt upright, lost his balance, and promptly fell off the couch with all the grace of a newborn deer. Alyssa laughed uproariously. "Christ, Mark, you're fucking trashed. You seriously only had one fucking drink?" "No, I've been holding out on you with my flask of rum. Shut up, not all of us have hairy chests." That got her laughing again, which made him feel stupidly tingly inside, which made him feel really fucking confused. He was not making his case as a gay man very well, here. "C'mon, then. Maybe some food will change things." He stumbled his way into her kitchen behind her. "Wow, this looks way better than my apartment." "For what I'm paying, it fucking better. No, this is a really good complex. Grandpa's trust fund at work." He scoffed. "Oh, no. We can't be friends if you're bourges- borugh- bousgh- fuck it, you know what I mean, you capitalist pig." She rolled her eyes at him. "I can't believe you can't speak french when you're drunk. And no, Gramps just won the lottery or something. Wanted his grandkids to have a good future, except all he got was the one." She offered him a bottle from the fridge, which he took and opened. "So, Gatorade?" "Yeah, it's the electrolytes and the water. I dunno, maybe it's placebo. You gotta drink something, may as well taste as fruity as you." "Wow, rude. Just for that I'm not sharing." "Oh, the horror." He sniffed in mock offense, and then chugged half the bottle. A timer to their left chimed, and then began screaming death metal. Mark about jumped out of his skin. "Jesusfuckshitwhatthehellisthat?" She almost fell over laughing, then reached out to shut off the timer. "I found it online. The internet's a crazy place. Fuck out of the way, the pizza rolls are ready." Alyssa pulled the tray from the oven, and quickly divvied out the rolls onto a pair of plates. Handing one to him, she reached into the fridge to pull out what looked like a beer bottle. "Holy shit, you're not seriously gonna keep drinking, are you?" "Nah, it's for you. Of course I'm drinking, it's my house. Amscray, let's watch a movie to keep you awake." He wandered back out into her living room, and carefully set down his meal while she did something weird to the TV. "So, uh, do you have any roommates?" "Nah. It's just you, me, and Harrison Ford's chiseled jawline tonight." She sat back down and twisted the top off her beer. "Here, take a sip of this. Just a sip. I don't want you any more drunk, but I want you to know this exists." He gingerly took the beer and took a sip. It tasted like... apple juice? He almost took a second, but thought better of it and handed it back. "It's hard cider. Maybe you should get that at the bar next time, might get you less trashed." "Wait, that's alcoholic?" "I know, right?" They munched away at their rolls while on-screen Mr. Ford got himself into and out of perilous situations, and by the time the movie ended Mark felt more sober. Not that it was a good thing, though. As they finished eating, Alyssa had taken it upon herself to lay her head in his lap, giving him an amazing view of her breasts down her shirt. He tried not to look, but the way they jiggled when she laughed— and she laughed often— was painfully distracting. Eventually, it became painful in a different way, as his cock grew hard and tight in his jeans with nowhere to go. "Hey, uh, where's your bathroom?" From his lap, she chuckled. "What, gotta fix your dick? I can feel that. I guess you have a thing for Indiana Jones?" He gulped nervously. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, I didn't think-" She twisted, leaning now on her elbows and looking up at him. "Here, lemme just give you a hand," she started, reaching over and starting to unzip his jeans. "Whoa, hey! Hands off the goods, man!" She held up her hands, grinning. "What's the big deal? It's not the first dick I've ever seen, Mark. And besides. It's your birthday. You should never wake up wearing clothes when it's your birthday." "But I don't swing that way," he protested weakly. Was she seriously trying to get him out of his pants? "You don't have to swing any way! I was just saying that you should get comfortable. I'm not gonna get weird about you taking off your jeans to be comfy." "I... I guess. Okay. Maybe it's the booze but that sounds okay I guess." "Good. That'll make it easier to suck your dick." He flushed bright red. "You're so easy to pick on. Come on, just take them off. You can hide under a blanket if you want to protect your chastity." They both stood, her stepping away to grab a blanket from across the room and him unbuttoning his jeans nervously. This was really weird, but maybe she was being honest? Maybe she saw him as just another girlfriend. Did girls take their pants off with eachother? Maybe. It seemed kinda like a sleepover sort of thing now that he thought about it. She returned with the promised blanket, which he took. "Damn, Mark. You've got some nice legs! Turn around, lemme see the rest of you." If it was possible for him to get redder, he did. But he did as she asked, turning slowly around and then sitting down with the blanket covering his legs. "Wow, you've got a great butt, too! I'm kind of jealous!" "Yeah, well. It might do you more good than it's done me." She cocked her head to the side. "Oh dear. How long's it been?" "Three years. Well. Since I was with another person at least. Online shopping helps a little." Alyssa made a sad face. "That's terrible!" She sat next to him and leaned on his shoulder in commiseration. "Well... y'know..." He leaned away a little. "I'm not sure I'm here for whatever you're thinking." She squinted at him. "Oh, come on. I was just gonna say, I, uh. I might have a harness in my room. Like... I'm not trying to push you or anything but like. You could pretend I was a boy if you wanted." He thought about it for a bit. Sure, she was a girl, and he wasn't into girls. But maybe she was right, maybe he wasn't as turned off by them as he'd thought? Here he was, cock as hard as it'd ever been, entirely because of her. And she was offering to fix his dry spell for him, and even do it in the way he preferred? Maybe he ought to take her up on it? "I... I guess I could do that. Maybe if you blindfolded me. And turned out the lights." She grinned at him. "See! I called it a week ago. You're totally into that bdsm shit." "Hey! It's not like that. I mean, I've never done anything like that before. Don't make it weird." She leaned back in on him. "Ooh, Mark, you've never been with a girl like me before." "Oh stop. Girls use strap-ons all the time. It's not a big deal, you weirdo." She pouted a little even as her hand slid up his thigh, stopping just short of his cock. "Mhm, not a big deal. And I suppose this," she murmured as she gripped his cock at last, "this is just normally this hard, right?" He gasped sharply as her fingers squeezed him. "I, yeah. Totally. I just walk around with a hard cock all day. My friends— ah!" he gasped again, as she pulled the sheet down, "my friends all call me the Walking Cock because my boner never goes away." She nodded, as she caressed him through his boxers. "Uh-huh. Go on, Walking Cock." "It's The Walking Cock, thank you very much," he mumbled as she very carefully pulled his cock through the front slip. "I can see why. Pretty impressive, keeping this up all day and still being able to talk. How long are you?" He inhaled a bit, her touch electric. "Uh, I think I measured about six inches." "I'll say. Why, I could just eat you up." She seemed to be waiting for him to respond. He swallowed in anticipation. "Please do." She grinned, tightened her grip, and brought her face down to his cock. He jumped a little as her tongue traced a soft line up the underside of his shaft, and her lips gently pecked the head of cock. She licked lightly back down the side, and then pressed the full width of her tongue back against the bottom of it as she pulled up and off. He realized his eyes were clenched shut as she waited a moment and giggled, and when he opened his eye to look down he found her staring up at him as she angled his cock to slide into her mouth without breaking eye contact. She took it inside all the way to its base, squeezing his balls through his boxers gently as she pulled it back out. "Thought you needed a blindfold, Mark?" He blushed and slammed his eyes back shut, partly from embarrassment and partly because she wrapped her fingers back around his shaft. She stroked the length of him slowly, her lips following her fingers almost exactly. A wave of pleasure washed through him as her grip tightened and movements quickened briefly, before she pulled back off. This damn tease! He opened his eyes again to find that she wasn't stopping, but was pulling insistently at the blanket and his boxers. "C'mon, get these out of the way. How am I supposed to give you a proper birthday blowjob with clothes in the way?" He arched a little, hooking his thumbs into his waistband and pulling them down over his thighs. She grabbed them from there, leaning to yank them down past his knees to fall to his ankles, and then seized his cock again. Her thumb massaged the underside of his head, eliciting another gasp from him. "Gosh, you're so noisy." "I'm sorry, I'll shut-" "No, I'm not complaining. It's, uh, it's turning me on." She leaned back in to take his head between her lips, and he moaned automatically as her tongue started to flick across it again. Unconsciously, his hips flexed up, and he felt her smile aimed at him when she pulled back, still stroking him. "Ah, someone likes that." "Please don't stop." She giggled even as she slid his cock back into her mouth, making him arch again. She clenched her fingers a little tighter and pushed down onto him, taking the stroke down to the base of his cock again and then pulling it as she came back up. She did this again twice, and on the third he arched unconsciously into it. She nodded sharply, doing it again and again, until he caught on that she wanted him to thrust up into her mouth. He obliged, pushing his cock into her mouth again and again almost in a trance from how good it felt. Her free hand broke him from his reverie, grabbing his and directing it to her ponytail. He quickly realized that she wanted him to actually fuck her mouth. "I don't want to choke you," he moaned. She pulled back briefly, looking up at him. "When I grip your cock like this it keeps it from gagging me. You can go as fast as you want. Please. I want you to do it." She looked as though she was going to say more, but he gripped her ponytail tight and shoved her face down on his cock. His guess proved correct, as she audibly moaned around his cock. Now given permission, he began sliding his cock into her mouth in earnest. She seemed incredibly aroused now, moaning and shifting he thrust harder and harder into her. As he went, he felt her release her fingers from his cock one by one, so that only the smallest of rings kept him from gagging her. A pressure was building deep inside of him, an insistent pressure that grew and grew as he fucked her face as hard as he could. "I'm- I'm gonna," he started to gasp. She responded by releasing him with her hand and shoving his cock completely into her throat, gripping his balls tightly as he grunted and then it washed over him. It came in powerful waves, seeming to pull everything from inside of him as he shot over and over into her throat. Her fingers massaged and squeezed and worked his balls as they unloaded, until finally his spasms faded and he sank back into the couch, completely obliterated. "That was... amazing," he mumbled between gasps. "I've never came like that before." She pulled off his cock slowly, sucking him mostly clean as she came. She looked up at him, winking, before leaning back in to lick up anything she'd missed. This sent more soft waves of pleasure through him, and his head rocked back against the couch. "Fuck, Lyss, that's almost so good it hurts." Having finished, she gently kissed the tip of his cock and leaned back on her knees. "So, having a good birthday?" "The best." "That's good. You're not passing out on me, are you?" He made the effort to look at her, though he felt a little cross-eyed. "I think I might be. I'm sorry, I didn't do anything for you-" "Hush, it's your birthday. I'll make you buy me ice-cream later. C'mon, my bed's big enough for two and it's gonna be cold tonight." She stood, reaching out to offer him a hand. He took it, only to find himself quickly yanked to his feet. He stumbled into her, but she was braced and caught him. "C'mon, birthday boy. Maybe I'll wake you up with a good pounding." "I might like that," he mumbled. That orgasm had reduced him to this? Shit, he was going to have to start calling himself bi at this rate. She led him up the stairs slowly, stopping at the landing. "The right is my room, the left is the bathroom. The stairs are for falling." "Got it," he said, and she opened her door. If he was expecting anything, he wasn't sure, but it certainly wasn't half-empty bookcases and undecorated walls. She pushed him toward the bed and opened her closet, which turned out to be a walk-in that he couldn't see around the corner into. "What's up?" he asked, unsure what to do, almost naked on her bed. "I'm, uh, getting my harness," she said, sounding almost... nervous? "In case you get a second wind or something." "Oh, okay. You can sleep with that on?" She laughed, though it seemed a little forced. "Yeah! They make them really comfy. I actually was wearing one when we first met. It, uh, I just like wearing it." He was definitely too tired for this conversation. "Okay. Thanks." She came out of the closet, hesitantly, leaning against the doorframe. She'd changed from her jeans and blouse into a soft, baggy pair of trousers and a loose t-shirt which did almost nothing to conceal how hard her nipples were. He could see a definite bulge in the pants, and it sent a thrill through his tired body. "Oh. Um. Shit," he summarized eloquently. "Like what you see, do you?" "I, I have no comment," he mumbled quickly, though his hardening cock betrayed his words. She sauntered over to the bed, his eyes darting between her breasts and her harness bulging at him. "You look like you might have a second round in you after all," she purred, putting a knee on the bed and leaning over him. "If you, uh, are the one doing most of the work then I could probably do it, yeah." She grinned, taking him softly by the hip and pushing him to roll on his stomach. "Are you nervous?" "A little. Okay, a lot. I've only bottomed for real a couple times before." "It's not that different, sweetie. But you don't have to do it if you don't want to. We can go to bed if you'd like." He hesitated, then shook his head. "No, let's do it. If I psyche myself out now I'm never going to have the balls to do it again." She leaned down and hugged him, and he arched unconsciously against her. Her strap-on pressed between his cheeks, its warmth startling him. "Holy shit, that thing's burning up! Is that normal?" "Yeah, it's uh, reactive to body heat. It's made to be conductive so it feels real. Internet's something else, right?" He considered this and shrugged. "Yeah, that's nuts. The things they think of these da- hey!" The world went suddenly dark as she swept the blindfold over his eyes and quickly tied it. Before he could protest further, she gripped his wrists and swung them up to the headboard, where he quickly realized there were fabric strips tied to presumably lash his wrists. "I wasn't kidding about the dom thing before, Mark. Do you want to give it a try?" "I, uh, not this time I think. I mean, I guess it sounds hot but the blindfold is already kind of pushing it." She chuckled, the motion rocking her against his rear and making him shudder a bit. "That's fair. I just ask that you stay on your stomach and keep your hands up there, then. I don't want you getting my bed any messier with lube than it has to be." She pressed down again as he tried to answer, making him shudder again. "I'll do whatever you want if you'll hurry up and put that inside me." She leaned back and swung her leg back over his, then stood. He heard a rustling as she presumably dropped her pants, and a few footsteps as she walked across the room. He was just about to ask what she was up to when she returned with a clicking sound. Suddenly something ice-cold and slimy dripped between his cheeks, and he jumped. "Shh, calm down. Gotta get you good and lubed up before I rail you into next week." "Okay, but couldn't you have at least warned me?" "I could've, but then you wouldn't have gotten such cute goosebumps all over this fine rear of yours," she said with a grin he could almost hear. She slapped his ass lightly, making him jump again, and then started rubbing her fingers in the lube dripping down his crack. He tensed at first when she stroked around his hole, but relaxed as she started to work the lube down and around it. As she felt him unclench, she started to softly work one of her fingers inside him, moving slowly as he began to gasp and squirm. "Ooh, are you going to get vocal for me again? That was really fucking hot when I was sucking your cock." He blushed, but continued to gasp. "It's not my fault," he whined softly. She dripped more lube on her fingers, and then slipped a second inside him. Her fingers curled, reaching for his prostate, and he arched back and moaned loudly before twisting to the side and covering his face in embarrassment. "Oh my god," she murmured, curling her fingers again before he could voice his protest. He clenched, visibly dripping precum again as he moaned a second time. "You're even more reactive than that sorority girl I took home last week! Fuck, Mark, how are you not getting laid more?" He shrugged helplessly, defenseless to the waves of pleasure she was giving him. "Here, lie back down. I want to make you come again and I think I know just the ticket." She pulled her fingers from inside him and let him get situated before straddling him again, the heat of her cock burning against the leftover chill of the lube. Whatever brand it was, he decided, he really needed to order one of his own. He heard a faint ripping sound, like a condom wrapper, and started to turn. "Shh, relax. You, uh, you gotta use condoms with toys, too. The cracks and pores and stuff can transmit bacteria or whatever." That seemed fair, he supposed. Or at least he started to, before she drew back, lined up with his ass, and sank a solid inch into him. "Oh," he gasped, as she leaned down over him, her breasts pressing into his back as she drew slowly out and then pressed gently back into him. She repeated the process, slowly working herself deeper into him and past his sphincter with hardly any resistance at all. Mathematical "It's, it's so big," he gasped. "Really? I'm only like halfway in," she murmured, her voice shaking like she could feel it herself. "Oh my god. How much lube did you use?" She chuckled softly. "It's kind of thin at the tip, but it gets bigger on the way down. I've never had a complaint yet, it's my favorite." "I, oh, I can see why," he gasped, as she drove it gently further. She continued her slow, agonizing dive inside him, until at last he could feel her hips pressed fast against his cheeks. "How's it feel?" she whispered in his ear. "If you touched my dick I'd start coming right now," he mumbled as coherently as he could. Every breath he took made her strap-on jerk inside of him, and it was filling him more completely than anything he'd ever had. "Fuck, it feels like it's a mile long. How big is that thing even?" Instead of answering, she slowly started to pull out, almost to the tip. He made a soft whining sound when suddenly she drove it back inside of him, faster than before. He moaned again, and she repeated the process, hilting her dildo inside him with an impact that made his entire abdomen clench. He braced for her to continue, but she remained motionless. He shifted gently and whined again. "Why did you stop?" "Beg for it." He blinked, behind the blindfold. "What?" "Ask me to fuck you. I want you to beg for it." "Wait, really?" "Come on, just do it? I have an audio kink, okay." "Uh, alright. Please, please fuck me, Alyssa." She pulled back and shoved once into him hard. "C'mon, you can do better than that." He sniffed. "How about you start first and give me some inspiration?" He felt her shrug, and then pulled out about halfway. As she thrust back inside, he started to moan again. "Fuck, Alyssa, that feels so big. God, I wish that cock was real. Please fuck me. Please fuck me, pleeease." He wasn't sure if it was exactly what she wanted, and he felt kind of silly, but as soon as he started to moan the word please she started giving him longer and harder strokes, and soon he was enthusiastically encouraging her to fuck him harder and harder. Soon he found himself unable to make words as she wrapped her hands around his hips and shifted into overdrive, her cock slamming into him hard enough that all he could do was moan and shake beneath her. Suddenly a terrible emptiness was all he felt, as she yanked her dildo out of him. He protested weakly, but was cut short when suddenly she grabbed his leg and flipped him over like he didn't weigh a thing. Alyssa gripped the underside of his knees and pinned them up by his shoulders, her strap-on gliding straight back into his open asshole and her balls slamming against his cheeks as she picked up her pace exactly where she'd left off. She leaned down over him and without a word she began kissing and biting his neck and collarbones. He reached down to stroke his cock, desperate to come, but she reached down to grab his wrist and pin it above them without breaking stride. "Please, I need to come," he begged. "Then come for me. Come from my cock. I want to see you come from me fucking you." He clenched up again, her merciless assault not missing a beat, and between the fucking and the biting and being held down he suddenly felt the urge rising inside him. "!!" he gasped, and then it was on him, a deluge splattering out onto her breasts and his chest. She suddenly broke stride and started to seemingly convulse, herself, gasping and slamming him a few last times herself before juddering to a stop. She pulled her dildo from inside him, and his legs dropped back to the bed in exhaustion. "Wow, I," she started mumbling, "I think I just came watching you come." Still gasping, he couldn't respond. "Okay, I'm gonna get cleaned up. You stay put. You're gonna need a shower after that." He grunted his agreement, still blindfolded but too tired to react. She left the room, and he passed out, still dazed, but definitely satisfied.