Literotic asexstories – Handy by Elaine_Mature,Elaine_Mature
Handy
Sophia was handy at many things. Electronics, computers. Plumbing, wiring! Cars and TVs and appliances, every kind.
That’s why they keep me around, she thought glumly as she fixed Bobbi’s hair dryer for the upm-teenth time. Dropped in the toilet, again, wiring burned and fuse popped.
As she unwound the tiny motor on her bench, measured the wire gauge, counted the coils, she whistled tunelessly.
Honestly, this was where she liked to be, at her bench, some gadget spread out in pieces in front of her, tools all arranged just so.
As Bobbi’s cries and moans got to their peak, about to cum from whatever that hunk was doing to her or in her, Sophia fished in a parts drawer for another miniature breaker. This one had been popped half a dozen times, she didn’t trust it anymore. They built these things to the minimum tolerances; it was likely only meant to pop once. Why the motor burned this time.
She had one a little smaller, but the same rating. Cut the old one out of the circuit, tested her soldering iron, just right! Dabbed a little solder at exactly the right place in the joint, gauged the heat perfectly, and voila!
Now to repack the tiny motor casing with new coils. Then reassemble and test. It would work; they always worked the first time when Sophia fixed them.
She had just finished up as Bobbi finished up, her usual orgasm-rage-talk clear through the thin walls.
“Fucker! You’re gonna cum in me! Bastard! Fucking slut-fucker whoremonger cuntdicker! Do it! Do it! Fill me you fucker! Breed me! Georgi! Georgi! Cum in me! I’m cumming! Eeeeee!”
Oops, that guy the other night had been Georgi. Probably wouldn’t matter, men didn’t get too fussy when Bobbi got naked and wet.
Bobbi was only five two but nearly that big around, her tits about as big as her head, same size as her hips. Add in jet-black hair, pouty little-girl face, that high-pitched voice that turned to a squeal every time she came, they forgave pretty much anything else she did.
Sophia got up, banged on her door, went in without waiting.
“Got your hair dryer fixed! I’ll put it in the bathroom.”
She’d wait forever if she wanted any consideration from her roommates. They ignored her for the most part, except to ask for something.
Bobbi made some muffled Fank Goo! sound as she mouthed her gigolo’s cock, head-bobbing and slurping to clean him, licking up the side of his cock carefully, getting it all, swallowing his mess noisily.
Well, that was something, a Thank You anyway. She must want something else.
Pulling off with a schmuck! and wiping her mouth with the back of one hand, Bobbi hopped up, boobs bobbing wildly, fished around in the blankets, pulled out a nine-inch purple wand!
“Soph luv, it doesn’t, you know, buzz! It just hums, won’t get going, won’t adjust! Thanks doll!” and she thrust it into Sophia’s hands.
Whatever the whoremonger cuntdicker guy thought of all this, he didn’t show any concern. Still red across his face, shoulders, eyes closed, his dick at half-mast, wet, content. Bobbi gave good service, whatever you might say about her pushy personality!
Like now, she just assumed Sophia had nothing better to do than fix her sex toy! Typical.
Well, to be honest, she didn’t. And this was the new ThrillSeeker model, she hadn’t opened one up before. Gonna be interesting!
…
Lunchtime found all the housemates in the kitchen, foraging. A rare event.
Sophia had left the ThrillSeeker in pieces, the little counterweight that swung on a cam and made it buzz! It was loose, needed a pin, didn’t have the right size. Planning a visit to the hardware store after lunch.
Bobbi claimed to not be really hungry, just had cum for lunch! The others laughed politely. They all knew Bobbi was a cum-slut.
She poured a bowl of sugar-pebbles and emptied half the milk bottle into her bowl, began chowing down.
With her Hispanic figure, jet-black hair, figure wobbling wherever she went, she was a sight to behold. She had the bedroom downstairs, the basement really except the house was on a hill, it had a separate entrance to the back yard.
Sophia’s shop was downstairs too. Really just an airless storeroom, no windows. Suited her.
Megan was building a sandwich, had covered half the counter with packages from the fridge. With rust-red hair, her true color, same as her bush and under her arm, she never shaved.
Finished her enormous ham and cheese off with mustard, pickles, three kinds of cheese, capers, mayo. Gotta try that, it looked good, be nice to have a bite but Megan would never share. She didn’t share her master bedroom suite on the main level, the lease was in her name, she called all the shots, claimed all the perks for herself.
Then there was Trish. A willowy blond, she did some modeling, bra commercials, panty ads, condom ads. Usually late with her rent, spent it all on makeup and clothes, that car. Today eating some leftovers from a photoshoot, wild salmon over basmati rice, little buns with caviar, some prosecco.
Her waterbed nearly filled her bedroom, normally a guest room, a corner room overlooking the back yard, the side yard.
The neighbor’s house had a clear view from upstairs. Mr. Woolbrush could often be seen admiring Trish as she lounged naked on her bed or entertaining some producer which meant screwing them until they passed out.
And Sophia, poor Sophia, plain brown hair, no makeup ever, not even blush. Skin a little mottled, some Portwine stain she’d had as an infant, imperfectly treated. Left her looking like a map of Venus.
Waist a little too large; boobs a little too small. Perky though, with puffy nipples sticking out nearly two inches, though nobody knew, nobody ever got to see them.
And a clit like a little cock! An inch or more all told. Complete with a fat head, like a cockhead but tiny. Felt like a freak, the other girls all had little nubs or pink pearls, not like hers at all, not like a miniature boy! She saw them often enough, they never used a bathrobe, walked around the house stark naked from the bath.
Sophia dressed in loose cotton work shirts, deliberately a size too large to disguise her figure. Wore baggy jean or even overalls. Sandals with wool socks. Her feet got cold in her room in the basement, sharing space with the water heater.
And those glasses! Thick black rims, the girls joked she got them from Svens House of Soviet Eyewear.
It wasn’t true, they were just being mean. She got them mail-order from a place in India, a fraction of the price the local optometrist would charge. She just measured her prescription with her jury-rigged phoropter, you didn’t need one of those enormous steel arrangement they used in the doctors’ offices.
Sophia had a box of lenses, an old Victorian prescription set, got it at a yard sale, used for half a century by doctors everywhere, perfectly good. Made a binocular mount, just tried lenses in each eye until it looked good enough.
Sophia ate her wholegrain wheat bread and hummus sandwich, delicious but the other girls sniffed at it, called it her ‘health pellet’. She retreated downstairs, ate alone at her bench.
The doorbell started ringing, folks started arriving. A party? Typical; they’d said nothing to her. Probably not welcome; certainly not invited.
It got noisy, laughing and talking, then doors slamming. Bobbi came downstairs, sounded like two sets of feet on the stairs, into her room and Slam.
Then it got quiet, real quiet.
Then it got loud again, this time yelling and squealing, some moaning.
They were screwing! All her roommates, all with boyfriends over, for sex. Maybe an orgy? Was it technically an orgy if they fucked in separate bedrooms?
Strike that; Megan was screwing two guys by the sound of it. Or a guy and a gal? Both voices pretty low, but some women had voices like that.
Bobbi’s guy was pretty silent, just some mumbling then her headboard started thumping, right behind the wall to her lab, rattling her parts cabinet so the little drawers started to slide out.
She blushed, her breathing got heavy, she started salivating. Normal erotic stimulation response.
Nothing to do for it, but give in. She shucked out of her overalls, slid her cotton panties down to her knees, sat back down on her bench stool, cold against her naked butt.
Taking up her portable jigsaw, she dropped the blade out. Plugged it in, turned it on slow, carefully pressed the foot plate to her clit.
The reciprocal motor buzzed her junk better than those dildo wands ever could! Just touching, letting off, touching again, her breathing getting deeper, her tongue between her lips, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back.
Building, building, it was getting good. The voices around the house were intermittent, calls of encouragement, instructions to suck this or kiss that.
Almost there, almost…
The lab door banged open; Sophia dropped the jigsaw. It bounced off her stool footrest, slid under her bench, buzzing under there, loud in the small space.
“Sophia! You have my vibrator fixed yet?”
Bobbi was staring, wanting an answer, but clearly amazed at what she was seeing.
“Go away!”
Her face split in a huge smile, gleeful. She turned away, went out, leaving her lab door open, leaving Sophia sitting naked from belly to knee, wet smears on her gaping crotch, red-faced, clit hard and projecting like a little thumb.
“Hey Jimbo! Guess what Sophia was doing! You’re not gonna believe it!”
She slammed back into her room, talked animatedly to somebody in there, Sophia couldn’t make out a word, but the rude laughing was clue enough.
Haw Haw Haw! Then some more urgent talking, something about ‘…her clit’ then peals of laughter from Bobbi!
She jerked up her white cotton panties, struggled into her overalls, buttoned back up. Jerked the power cord out, stilling the loud buzzing under the bench.
Ran up the stairs, grabbed her jacket, threw the front door open. Behind her the house was filled with yelling, screaming, crying, passionate pleading. Building to a crescendo, wild voices in orgasm, screaming out their passion, her roommates having the time of their lives.
Sophia stomped down the sidewalk, left the front door wide open, not caring, not sure she was gonna come back.
Mad! Those whores fucked their brains out with random strangers, yelled out their lust to the whole house, came to breakfast with every kind of man in tow, red-faced, makeup smeared, cum dripping from their chins, staining their bras if they even wore a bra.
But Sophia jills in her lab and it’s hilarious? Something to mock her for? Like she’s the slut, and they’re some kind of paragons of virtue?
She fumed, walked, made some turns, walked some more, fumed some more. Burning off her mad.
Looked up after a time, not sure where she even was, must be half a mile from home, easy.
There was a guy just standing in his yard, hands in pockets, looking at the day, nothing to do. She could ask him for directions.
“Excuse me?”
He startled, saw her, took his hands out of his pockets.
“Ma’am?” Polite, a nice start. Not ridiculing her body, her needs anyway.
“Hey, I’m a little lost, you know which way to Mission Court?”
He didn’t answer, just looking at her, mind not engaged.
“Dude, you don’t know, just say so.” She had no time for fools, not today.
Awakened with a start, still looking at her but seeing her now.
“I, yeah, I know the way. Off of Central, right? Then down the park road, to the north?”
She nodded.
“About six blocks west, turn at the corner with Winston. You can’t miss it.”
That made sense, she knew Winston.
“Uh, thanks. Sorry to be so short.”
He nodded; saw she was having a bad day. Familiar with bad days.
“No problem. I’ve been there. Take long walks myself. Pretty much all I do. That’s why I know all the streets around here.”
She recognized a kindred spirit.
“So, thanks. I’ll be going.”
But she didn’t go. She looked to the west, looked back.
Nothing back there but more humiliation, more ‘jokes’ about her needs, her body. Her brains, an egghead, a nerd.
They stood in silence, longer than would normally be comfortable. Neither of them felt the need to say anything.
That was nice. Her housemates were full of small talk, always saying stupid empty things, never waiting for an answer. Talking about themselves, nonstop.
He finally felt the need to admit something.
“I’m just out here to get away from my sisters.”
She absorbed that. Occurred to her to reciprocate.
“I’m out here because of my roommates.”
They shared a companionable silence, just two ordinary people with shitty living arrangements.
“Mine are entertaining boyfriends. Hell, fucking random guys, they’re a bunch of sluts, whores. Selling themselves for cars, for money, for parts. Every night a different guy.”
His eyebrows raised, he nodded.
“My sisters are in there, getting pounded by some guys from work. Stinking up the place, always smells like estrogen and peroxide. A health hazard!”
She smiled, snorted, subsided.
“Seventeen kinds of fake hair product left open on the bathroom counter.”
He lit up. “Like placenta does anything for hair, right?”
“And I gotta clean it all up. They never will. I left an open container of milk on the counter for two weeks, an experiment. They never touched it. All they had to do, dump it, put the carton in the trash. Two weeks!”
“I put anything away, I get complaints – where did you put my shit? Why are you always messing with my stuff! Don’t fuck with my stuff!”
They were really connecting, now.
“So, you a chemist?”
He reared his head back, looked at her with new respect.
“How on earth did you guess that?”
She smiled. “Anybody else would have said, smells like pussy. You said, estrogen. So, a chemist.”
He looked really pleased, now.
“And you’re a… mathematician?” He was guessing.
She smiled, was gonna slam him, tell him he was wrong but something in her said, why not be nice?
“I know a little. Electronics are more my thing. I design circuit board layouts, freelance.”
Silence again, as they digested this new information.
“Hey, there’s a coffee shop, on Central, on your way? Wanna, I don’t know, get some coffee? Talk?”
She was gonna say no, not used to social situations, not really comfortable with the whole ‘dating’ thing.
But something about him was different. If she ordered something strange, she didn’t think he’d ride her about it. He’d be polite, curious. Glad to learn!
And probably wouldn’t talk her ear off.
She nodded OK! Waited for him to come out his gate, join her. They started walking.
One block in she said, “Sophia.”
He was quick. “Michael.”
Nothing more was said until they got into the shop.
“Hey, my treat? I invited you.”
Sophia was going to shut him down, not that kind of girl, taking gifts from strange men, becoming obligated.
But hell, why not? She didn’t have to fuck him because he bought her coffee.
“Thanks! My treat, next time.”
She ordered first – cold matcha latte. He looked on in wonderment.
“You too? I never knew anybody else that drank that. My sisters, it’s all some double-double frap blend or some shit.”
She had to laugh. “No way you drink matcha! ‘Oooh, it tastes like grass! You must be a cow!'”
He laughed too, ordered his, but a large for him. Gave his name, Mike.
They sat, waiting to be called by the barista.
“What got you going today? Me, it was the orgy going on in the family room. They had these guys over, had porn on, really gross stuff, started in kissing and groping. I had to get out of there.”
What should she say? The truth, why not.
“They had a party, didn’t invite me. So I’m in my lab, listening to their banging and cock-sucking, thinking why not? I got my vibrator out,” and she didn’t say ‘my black and decker reciprocal hand saw’, “and one of them barged in, wanted her dildo back. She only gave it to me an hour ago, needs a bushing and pin.”
“They make you fix all their shit?” He was incredulous.
“Everything! Dildos, electric toothbrush, remote, vibrators! Video game controllers, always got gunk in the switches. Massage pads, but you know they isn’t any massaging going on, it’s always completely gross and smells…”
“Like estrogen!” They laughed together, easily, maybe friends already.
“What do they make you do? As a chemist?” She was honestly curious.
“Laundry! All their stankiest spunk-soaked underwear, bras! Shirts with fructose and protein stains, they always say mustard but you know..”
“It’s cum! From sucking cocks, that stuff gets everywhere, they never even bother to try and be tidy. Just let it fly!”
He nodded. “I use laundry enzymes, mild acid and base solutions, depending. Then, very dilute detergent, lifts the freed proteins. A gentle rinse, pH neutral, and voila!”
He seemed to be actually pretty ok with the laundry thing; right up his alley, being a Chemist.
“All handwork?”
“You know it! Silk and lace, it’d be ruined in a regular washer. And they deliberately smear cum all over, like it’s some kind of turn-on.”
Sophia wasn’t certain it wouldn’t be a turn-on but kept her peace.
They chatted on, about stains in furniture and carpet. About vacuum cleaners jammed with slimy condoms. How to get tampons out of a toilet, no matter how many times you said Throw it in the trash! they tried to flush them.
The worst? Pussy-juice on the walls, the woodwork, all that glucose squirted everywhere. Like spilled soda, you had to rinse again and again!
They went quiet, their matcha long gone, the sun getting low. The coffee shop customers had turned over like three times while they were talking.
“You know what we are? You and me?” He was asking, impishly, as impish as a fairly hairy guy with twenty pounds extra on him could get.
“Friends?” She said it, astonished at herself at being so bold.
He smiled. “Soul mates! Two people with lives in alignment. A perfect meeting, like it was meant for us to find each other.”
She looked at him, quizzically. Was he really one of those people, who believed in mystical shit?
He laughed out loud. “I know! Not a thing. As if everybody has one person in the world who they’re meant to be with. Somehow, they always find them in the same neighborhood, just around the corner! They’re not in Bangladesh or Saigon. Astronomically unlikely. But hear me out.
“Any statistical event, no matter how unlikely, given a big enough sample size, becomes…”
“Inevitable!” They said it together, amazed, uncertain.
“I like you.” He said it, plain, honest.
She wondered, what could she say to that? What did she want to say?
“I like you, too.”
“Ok. We like one another. We both have shitty living arrangements, I presume you, like me, because you can’t afford a place of your own.”
That was an understatement. Housing prices, even rentals, were out of her grasp, even with her well-paying gigs. Jobs were just too uncertain, sometimes she’d go weeks without a contract. Can’t pay rent that way.
She conceded the point.
“But together? Maybe? I work at the water treatment plant, a Junior Engineer. That means I do all the work, the old farts play cards and chat, get paid the big bucks to boss me around.”
“I do design work, piecework, online gigs. Not consistently, sometimes nothing for a week or two then I get slammed.”
“See, we average that out, we can come up with a spreadsheet, calculate the likelihood of a cashflow problem given the rent payment?”
She amended. “I have savings, three months. As a hedge. Including that, the curve is shifted over ninety days, nearly, brackets a different part of the bell curve.”
They got into it, suggesting distribution models, weights. Decided to repair to his room, his laptop, do some simulations.
The sisters were about where he left them, she saw from the front door coming in, the living room occupied by naked bodies, clothes draped over everything. Sacked out, or drunk and passed out. A porno still droning in the background, the heavy porno-music beat obvious…and it did indeed stink of pussy.
They clumped down the stairs, down a short hall, he opened a door, flipped on a light.
His lab! Maybe half again bigger than hers, mostly computers, screens, storage units.
In half an hour they knew. Their models predicted a statistically unlikely probability of cashflow issues began at a certain rent threshold, less than their current combined rent. Way less!
A quick survey of local real estate listings showed a dozen apartments available for that sum or less.
They looked up from the glowing screen, what did that poet say? with a wild surmise, silent, upon a peak in Darien.
They could do it!
“My next rent is due in a few days.”
“I’m paid up until the first. When should we do this?”
“Tomorrow!”
He walked her to Central, said good night! and shook her hand.
She wasn’t sure she didn’t want more than that. What would friends do?
She hugged him, surprising him.
“Michael! Friend! I’ll look at our top two choices, while you’re at work. Call you, we can meet, decide together?”
“Deal!”
She walked home, excited. He walked back home, glad to have a friend. Finally.
…
All her bedroom stuff fit into one box, an old booze carton her roommates were always leaving by the bins, for her to break down. Some jeans, a couple pair of overalls, some work shirts. Underwear. A pillow. A meagre sad life, one she’d learned young.
The lab took a little more. Three more cartons, the parts bins fitting into one, her hand-tools taking two. She’d abandon the bench, too hard to wrestle it out of the basement, up the stairs. Probably wouldn’t fit anyway, she’d put it together down here from parts.
Carried them up to the carport, stacked behind the mower. They’d never in a million years come out here, they didn’t lower themselves to manual labor.
Off to the bus stop, a short list in her hand.
First one, closer to downtown, a little noisy, could smell the traffic. And taken! Somebody from the College had rented it yesterday.
The second one, six blocks further out of the way. On a quiet street, overhung with ancient elms, survivors of the Dutch Elm Disease plague.
The manager’s office off a pleasant courtyard, flower boxes filled to bursting, hanging plants.
The manager, a stout pleasant lady, no nonsense but nice enough, showed her the place.
“No loud parties! No overnight guests! Keep it clean, carry your trash to the dumpster out back, included!”
It was beautiful, new paint, fairly new carpet. Two bedrooms, both large. Small kitchen, but only two of them to share it. Big bathroom, big shower stall! Two sinks! They could both rinse and spit at the same time!
She wanted it, like she’d never wanted anything before.
Sophia admitted there would be two of them. No problem! First one on the lease pays! The other pays them for their share!
That didn’t sound unreasonable. She promised to come back at seven when Michael’s shift was over.
Can’t promise to keep it for you! First to sign, gets it!
That didn’t sound good, but what could she do?
With all her worldly goods packed, no way to earn money today. Not a problem, no deadlines coming up.
But how to spend the afternoon?
At the coffee shop. People watching.
Single people came and went, after their fix. Couples came in, ordered, sat, not look at one another, not speaking. Got their coffee, drank it, each absorbed in their own life, newspaper or book or scribbling in a notebook. Left.
Might as well have been strangers.
Baristas repeating the same prompts endlessly, annoyed when somebody asked a question, wanted an opinion. What can I get for you? And implied, make up your mind for yourself, I don’t give a shit, I’m not paid enough to care, to actually know the business and help you decide.
All the while the specter of Somebody Might Rent It First! She had to put that out of her mind, not dwell or she’d go mad.
She called it a day at five thirty, half an hour early but she could just as well wait at his house.
Turning onto the street she saw him, already home! Out on the lawn, piled boxes, loading them into an ancient station wagon.
“You’ve packed already! You must have been pretty confident!”
He smiled. “It didn’t matter, this one doesn’t work we’ll just keep looking. I don’t need most of this stuff, not every day, I can just leave it in the car until we do get a place.”
That sounded good. More than good; he was enthusiastically committed to making this work. To being her roommate.
Sudden joy! A roommate who wanted to be with her!
He saw her expression, smiled a huge smile.
“You believe in soul mates now?”
…
They drove right over, not stopping to get her stuff quite yet. Don’t want to lose the apartment at the last minute!
The manager looked up when they jingled into her office, smiled.
“This your guy? Hi, good to meet you. Lucky couple! I had three people come by today, look at the place.”
Panic! Was it gone? But she’d said Lucky Couple.
“No worries! One was a bachelor, the worst kind of renter. Trash the place, never clean shit. Use up the whole deposit every time, paying for damages, cleaning.
“The others, well, I told them it was taken. By a nice young couple, just starting out on their own.”
For some reason Sophia got a thrill up her spine. She was mistaken, they weren’t really a couple, just two people, friends really, sharing expenses.
Still, it was very nice to be thought of that way, as a couple, as somebody who was worth somebody else’s kindness and attention.
Michael was more pragmatic.
“I should sign the lease? My job is regular, doesn’t pay as much as yours but regular, enough to guarantee rent every month on time.”
Sophia thought that sounded sensible. She could shoulder other expenses, groceries, supplies, furniture! Make it come out even in the end.
They signed, then got the keys, and went up to their apartment.
Their apartment!
“A bedroom for each of us! You’re on the lease, the big one is yours!
“Our own kitchen! Room for a couch, a TV! Trash goes into the dumpster in the alley!”
He looked bemused, watching her dash from room to room, planning what would go where, how it would fit.
“I don’t have any furniture? Have to get a bed from somewhere. Can you help me drive it back in your car?”
He agreed, that would be fine.
“We should bring my stuff up. Then go get yours?”
So they did, hustling his boxes and appliances from the car, passing each other on the stairs, putting things in the right places, bedroom stuff and kitchen stuff, smiling and smiling.
The last box placed, lock the door, each with their own key! And off to get her shit.
It was right where she left it, behind the mower, untouched.
As they were carrying out her meagre belongings the front door opened, Bobbi stood there, upset.
“What’s going on? Who is this? Where are you going?”
Michael left it to her to explain. She ignored Bobbi at first, just put her load in the back of the car, came back up the walk to find Bobbi blocking her way.
“Excuse me.”
“Explain! Your lab is empty! Your bedroom!”
Ha! Bedroom! Utility room, she slept on an army cot behind the furnace.
“And who is this guy?”
Big sigh. Patiently,
“I’m moving out. Your dildo is on your dresser, the pieces plus the new bushing and pin. You’re on your own putting it back together; all my tools are packed.
“And it’s none of your goddam fucking business, who this guy is. Like you ever explained who the randos you brought over were.”
Michael had her last box, stopped, waited with her, waited for her to be ready to leave.
“But, but. We need you! Who will pay your share of the lease? Who will do the chores!”
“You need me? I believe you won’t be able to get along without me.
“But guess what? I don’t need you. Not one tiny little bit. Not one subatomic particle of need.
“I don’t need you ridiculing me, making me do all your chores. I don’t need to clean up your sex messes and deliberate spills and accidental-on-purpose sex stains on the carpet!
“Because I’ve found somebody who likes me, actually likes me!
“And he doesn’t trash the kitchen just to make one sandwich, or leave garbage all over the house. He doesn’t use the remote as a vibrator, stick it up his cootch for a thrill and get pussy juice in all the buttons, expect me to clean it out.
“Grow up, Bobbi! Learn to put something away, anything! Clean your own toilet, buy your own cereal! Grow a backbone!
“Goodbye Bobbi. Good luck! You’re going to need it!”
Michael was grinning, aware that wasn’t kind or polite but just too impressed by his roommate to keep it bottled up.
Sophia stepped around Bobbi, her mouth still open, shocked that Sophia had dared talk back to her, as they walked to the car together.
Driving away, Michael could not keep quiet.
“You were awesome! Polite, honest, even kind! But you let her have it, in no uncertain terms. Her days of abusing my Sophia are over!”
She felt proud, felt good because he was proud.
Good to be Michael’s Sophia!
God, this was going to be great.
…
“How did it go with your sisters? When they learned you were leaving.”
Standing, surveying the apartment, the floor covered in boxes.
“They didn’t give a shit. Already planning to make my room into their dressing room.”
That was sad. Family was important, or so Sophia had heard. She’d been an army brat. Then an orphan, briefly, for a year then turned 18. On her own since then.
She had brought up her last box while Michael pulled the car around, to a space in the alley. Their space!
Now he was here, and the reality of moving into an apartment was getting ever so real.
“I’ll unpack the kitchen? While you do your bedroom?”
He seemed troubled. About what?
“Ah, see. We have two rooms, plus the kitchen, plus our living space.
“You need room for your lab; I need room for mine.”
She saw the problem. If they used the living space for labs, the whole apartment would be just for work.
She had a brainstorm.
“We can share a bedroom? Then use the other room for our labs. I take one wall; you have the other? Still bigger than the space we used to have.”
Michael nodded, that made sense.
“Not sure two beds will fit. Even in the big bedroom.”
“I’ve been sleeping on an army cot for, like forever. I only need a corner, I don’t mind.”
He shook his head. “You are my roommate, not my pet, not a servant. You deserve to take up space, like a real person.”
That was a new thought. Never had she been more than an extra, somebody’s burden. A servant, that would just about describe her life so far.
“What do you suggest?”
He hem’d and haw’d then came out with it.
“We could share a bed? If it was big enough?”
Practically speaking, it was a fine idea. The bed wouldn’t have to be very big, even a double, she didn’t take up much space. Was used to sleeping on a cot eighteen inches wide.
She said as much.
That pleased him, for some reason. More than a solution to a problem should please him.
She had a sudden thought.
“Are you getting ideas? You think I’m going to be your bed-warmer, your cuddle-mate? Cozy up to you?
“Be your girlfriend?”
He didn’t respond immediately, just let that hang in the air.
“Let me be honest. I really like you; you know that. I think we’re very compatible.
“If at some future time, we became boyfriend and girlfriend, I would have to consider it but think I already know the answer.”
She felt a tightening in her chest. No, not her chest; in her stomach, her groin.
“You don’t want me. Not that way. I’m not beautiful. Not sexy. Just a dork, a girl who wears overalls and solders circuit boards.”
Michael tilted his head, looked at her thoughtfully.
“I like you, Sophia the Dork. You can wear overalls, solder all the circuit boards you want. I’ll still like you.
“Not everybody has to be beautiful, to be loved. I have to believe that, just look at me.”
She giggled; he had a way of making her do that.
Michael was not beautiful, not like TV-beautiful. Not going to be doing any condom ads.
But she thought he was great. Lovely. Just right.
“Ok, how big is this bed?”
The wrestled it in, left in the entryway when they brought up the heavy stuff. Set up the frame, laid the mattress on top. Sat on it, on different sides, bounced.
“It could use a box spring. Even out some of the waviness.”
“I’ve learned to scootch down, get my hips and shoulders arranged so they fit in the dips.”
That was funny, they both giggled at that. Tried it.
Her head came just about where his shoulders were, when her hips were properly settled. She turned, looked at him from below his chin.
“Not bad.”
He looked down at her, not speaking. They shared a moment.
Sitting up, Sophia announced, “We’re both thinking it. Will all our stuff fit in the new lab?”
The rest of the evening was spent unpacking computers and screens, parts cabinets and hand tools. A complete Dremel set, Michael was joyful to see that, had always wanted one.
“You have all the splines! All the collets! Oh! Oh! An elliptical cutoff!”
They explored one another’s treasures, the bits and bobs that meant something only to nerds like them.
Took a break to walk down for a pizza, only a few blocks, gonna be a favorite activity, she knew it already.
Ate pizza on the floor, drinking water from insulated car cups, the only cups they had, with equipment vendor logos, freebies from technical conferences.
It got late; Michael had to work in the morning, so did Sophia, don’t want to press the deadlines, that’s how you got behind.
So, to sleep. Sheets in a box, it took only a minute to get them out, Michael had color coded every box. Sophia felt a thrill at that!
Made the bed together, tucking in, discussing issues of sheet alignment. Pulled up to the neck? Or only shoulder length, then the blanket? Tuck in at the bottom, or leave free?
The settled on, tuck in Sophia’s side, leave Michael’s untucked, so his feet didn’t get squished, they stuck out further.
Took turns in the bathroom, then it was time.
“I, um, I usually sleep naked.”
Sophia thought that sounded fine; she did too. Didn’t own pyjamas. Neither did he.
“Turn your back!” So Sophia did, and Michael stripped in record time, slipped under the sheets.
“Ok. Your turn.”
Sophia kept her back turned, kicked off her sandals. Unbuckled her overalls, let the straps fall. Shimmied out, stepped out of the pooled denim.
Unbuttoned her work shirt, striped it off, put it in the pile.
Hesitated, then rolled up one side of her sports bra, pulled that arm through, readjusted, then the other arm. Pulled it over her head.
The big decision! Panties or no panties! Well, it was unhygienic to wear them too long, and these were at their limit.
She stripped them down her padded hips, her firm thighs, stepped out. Tossed them onto her laundry pile.
Turned back; saw Michael’s attention rivetted. On her. Her ugly body.
“Don’t look!”
“I’m sorry! I’m a guy; it’s hard not to look at a pretty girl.”
“Not pretty!” She flared, angry or embarrassed, she didn’t know.
Nothing left to do but get in. She picked up the sheet, sat, swung her legs up and under. Laid down, pulled the sheet over her shoulders. Covered her body.
It hardly helped, didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Her puffy nipples stuck out, vividly, through the material.
She might as well have been completely naked.
And she could feel his heat, his body heat, just inches away. Like a furnace, up one side of her, warming her legs, her hips. Her shoulders. Her breasts.
“What are you looking at! Stop it!” Michael had turned his head, watching her.
“I’m… it’s just, I’ve never seen a three-sigma glans before!”
Confusion: what was he going on about.
“Your, uh, clitoris! It’s amazing!”
“It’s deformed! I’m some kind of freak, not a real woman!”
His turn for confusion. “You’re not normal, no. But very much a woman.
“Just on one end of the bell curve! Three sigma! One in a thousand!”
“You, you mean, my clitoris isn’t defective?”
“No! No.” Vehemently. “It’s an expected variation, the clitoral hood, the exposed shaft? The same genes as express a penis in a male, form the clitoris in the female.
“Typically, it’s expressed as a branching nerve cluster, bracketing the uh vagina. But the top? Where it branches? In a normal population it’s exposed maybe a quarter inch, a half inch.
“In some exceptional individuals it can reach three or four inches! Really!”
She put one hand to her crotch, felt her clitoris, stiff already.
“Yours is somewhere in between, what? An inch?”
Shyly, “Forty millimeters.”
“Really?” He was getting excited. “It’s supposed to enable superior stimulation, a heightened sexual response. Is that your experience?”
What a question! But a legitimate one. The intelligent mind didn’t shy away from new information.
She didn’t know why she was talking about this, to a man any less! On a bed, naked.
But Michael? Her friend Michael? Maybe her soul mate? It seemed ok; she decided it was ok.
“It’s always sensitive. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I know it’s there, giving me little jolts, little electric charges when it touches something. It’s always touching something.”
Awe.
That felt nice; he wasn’t repulsed, just the opposite, he thought she was awesome.
“Can, can I see?”
Why not?
She turned the sheets down, raised a leg, kicked them off. Exposed now, naked and lying next to a man.
Put one hand over her furry patch, a reflex; took it off slowly.
Spread her legs, put one knee out, opened herself up.
And there it was! Her little buddy, a model penis, sticking up stiff and red. The little berry, like a cockhead, spongy.
And a little groove up the bottom! Like, where the urethra went in a boy’s penis, but open, her urethra ended in her cunt.
“Can I touch it?” Curious, respectful.
A nod, Yes.
He reached, carefully, just one finger, touched the tip. Zap! Like an electric shock, she twitched, so he pulled back.
“It’s ok. Just very sensitive.”
He tried again, touched but held it there, testing the resiliency, the stiffness. She squirmed a little but endured his attention.
“A perfect specimen! My first! Thank you!”
She flushed, pleased at that, at being able to please him, educate him.
Remembered she was naked; put one arm over her breasts, hid her nipples.
“You don’t think your breasts are appealing?” He was suggesting, not telling her, just curious about his friend.
She shook her head No.
“My boobs are small, too small. My nipples are all bloated, stick out way too far.”
Michael expressed doubt. “I don’t think that’s a thing.”
Astonishment! It was all her roommates ever talked about, who had big boobs, shapely boobs. Who’s were bouncier, softer, had better nipples.
“Don’t you want to see big boobs? Tiny nipples?”
He shook his head. “I’d be lying, if I said I thought any boobs were not beautiful. It’s kind of built in. A guy sees boobs; a guy gets excited. Any boobs; any size; any kind.”
She considered that.
“Are you excited now?”
And she looked down, at his sheet-covered body, and saw that he was.
“Fair is fair!” She pouted. So he kicked off the sheets, showed her.
He was long! Thin, but long. And a little bent! Like, a kink in the middle, sticking up then bending further, toward his belly button, his belly sticking out a little, his penis almost touching.
She rolled on her side, reached across, touched his tip, held her finger there.
He twitched; she smiled. She knew exactly what that was about.
She pulled her hand back, was quiet for a while.
He let her think.
“I wanna try something.”
He was willing to listen.
“I wanna, touch yours. With mine. To, you know, stimulate both of us.”
That sounded fine. Kind of a science experiment.
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