https://www.angelfire.com/art2/remind/index.html
iamnotsusan@hotmail.com
copyright 2002
Occasionally I like to masturbate.
More often I like to swing my legs out into a "V" shape, look down across the landscape of my belly, and see his eyes looking into mine.
I especially like to do this in hotels, on those vast king-sized beds that could hold ten people all at once. Not that I am fond of orgies. I prefer one-on-one, yet I like the idea that a lot of people could fuck all at the same time.
When we took the Jacuzzi suite it wasn't really about sex. I love to swim and it was February, all of the outdoor pools were closed. Plus my traveling partner is old and his knees hurt, his back aches, and sometimes his feet fall asleep. I was thinking he could recharge just sitting there with the waterjets reworking his body. I was trying to be a nice girl, thankful that he decided to go on the trip with me. I knew he had little interest in it, not even the Great Smoky Mountains could pique his brain.
He's a poet and I like to read so we stopped at Malaprop's on Haywood Street in Asheville. Zorrid headed off to the poetry section. I was just wandering waiting for something to catch my eye.
I must be a dirty girl because a stack of "Satisfaction: The Art of the Female Orgasm" drew me over like a giant magnet. I picked up the top copy and flipped through the pages. Wow! It was full of pussies; well, close-up illustrations and the text seemed to go into great detail about the how-tos. I picked up two other sex-instructional texts as well.
When I found Zorrid he was waiting by the door with his nose stuck in a copy of "Unintended Consequences." I didn't show him what I had, he was so deep in thought he wouldn't have noticed anyway.
Back at the hotel I refilled the Jacuzzi, laid our towels on a near-by chair, and placed the bath mat on the floor.
Zorrid might be old, but he is rather shy. I get to be the warm-up girl. We moved around the tub so the jets would strike different parts of our bodies until all of the parts were as tenderized as a chicken steak.
"You have the best ones I have ever seen...perky and pointy." he said as I stood up and wrapped a towel around my slippery body. I like it when I can make him gasp, especially since he is old and has seen and done a lot. So just maybe that might mean a thing or two. Or not.
He is also very good at saying the exactly right thing that a girl wants to hear. He says it takes a man at least twenty years with women to figure that part out.
When we climbed onto the enormous king-sized bed I grabbed the books, my books, the sex books, off the floor. "Look at this." I started to shake a little. I was getting jittery and unsure and, well goofy.
"Perfect." he whispered into my ear. "Let's see."
We looked at illustrations and read sections out loud to one another. The next book had a section on love tips stating, "to look deeply into one another's eyes is the equivalent of sampling each other's soul."
"Let's try that." I said.
He yanked off my towel and began kissing all over my face. Zorrid is a very gentle lover. He has an odd little habit though; he likes to lick my nose. Haha! I think he is a man that really is a dog.
"Up baby" he says and my legs bloom out into that "V." I am watching him taste me. My eyes don't leave his face, his eyes. He is investigative. He is using the third technique we read in the book.
"Ssh." he says. "We don't want to get kicked out of here."
"Then stop it!" I say back to him not really wanting him to stop; yet I don't want to meet any Asheville cops either.
"Turn over." I reply and he does. This is working better. I really can't see his eyes.
He slides into me very slowly, teasingly, and now his face is above me. Good God he has a giant Cheshire cat grin on his face and his eyes seem to be spinning in circles.
I am giggling, receiving him, and looking at his goofy-ass face, all at the same time. I lose my concentration.
"Stop a second." I am laughing too much to fuck. He's laughing too much too. He won't stop that wacky face. I am thinking that might be his real face!
"Okay let's try this again."
Zorrid slips a pillow under my ass and I instantly moisten at the sight of his staghorn. He enters me and our eyes, or at least mine are closed. I am soaring off to Planet Nirvana, when I remember about the eyes. I open mine and his are right there. I am staring into a sea of turquoise-green waves and I must have looked in too deeply, YIKES! He looks like an evil ogre. I blink my eyes and look again. He is a demon. I am receiving a beast. I am fucking an evil spirit! A devil is inside of me! He is giving me the heebie-jeebies! I scream out "GET OFF ME!"
Ohmigod that was horrible. I don't want to view anyone's soul. They can keep it hidden as far as I am concerned. They don't need to look at mine either.
When Z and I left the room, we placed the books on the nightstand. Some cleaning lady in Asheville is having a chuckle. I wish her luck with that "eyes" thing. I'm going back to the closed-eyes-zipping-off-to-euphoria nontechnique. Fuck the books. Just love the moment.
