Mirandized

A nervous chuckle escaped my throat. “Are you okay? Have you had too much to drink?”

“I haven’t had anything to drink. Nothing more potent than a Coke, anyway.”

“Then?”

“I’m tired of it,” she said. “Of missing out. Of not knowing what it’s like. Aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” I admitted. “But what about what you said to the others?”

“Fuck them,” she said. “I don’t feel the need to justify myself to them.”

“But…?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I sense a ‘but’ dot-dot-dot coming,” I said.

“But,” she said. “I happen to agree with them.”

Sliding against the door, I sat to the ground; the carpet, white shag, was warm and comfortable “How?”

“I’ve often felt proud of thinking as I do,” Miranda said. “I mean, knowing that everybody’s having sex just because everybodyelseis having sex, and choosing not to participate . . . it’s always been a source of pride for me. But then, Alexis said . . . what she said, about expectations, and finding someone who’ll matter, and I found myself stunned by it. I’d never thought of it that way, you know?”

I nodded. I didn’t know, but I nodded anyway.

“She was right. One day I’ll find someone I’ll really care about, and I’ll want to be able to please that . . . person, and show them that I love them, and sex is a good way of doing that.”

“Okay,” I said. “That part makes sense, I suppose. But why me? Why not some . . . I don’t know; some jock, or something, someone who knows what they’re doing, who knows how to show you what to do, and how to do it?”

“I could, I suppose,” she said, and the way she said it, like she was considering the notion, made my heart skip a beat as I realized I might be talking heroutof having sex with me.

“But I won’t,” she said, and my heart calmed.

“Why not?”

She seemed uncomfortable. “It was . . . mean, what I did to you,” she said. “And I did it for no reason, other than to deflect attention. So I want to make it up to you.”

“Awfully decent of you,” I muttered, almost certain this was a prank, of some kind.

“Chris?”

“It’s not that easy. It can’t be.”

“And if it is?”

My heart was pounding in my throat, making me breathe faster, and giving my voice a tinge of hysteria. ” ‘Dear Penthouse:…'”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Jesus, Chris.”

“Look, if you want to do this…” I was getting hard just at the thought of it.

“It’s just an idea.”

I made my way to my feet—stumbling more than once—and took a seat next to her on the bed, dizzy from the alcohol and the adrenaline and the sheer fright of the situation I’d found myself in. Every voice in my head and my heart screamed to leave, to run, to get away, but then, it was thoughts like these that had kept me a virgin for twenty-one years, so for the first time, I saidFuck itand ignored every last one.

I tried to speak, and my voice cracked. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “I think it’s a good idea.”

She took a deep breath and stood, looking away for a while.

I got a good view of her ass, and the tight dress she wore to cover it, which, though it would never grace the covers ofFHMorVogue, did a good job of hardening me up. But then, I was drunk and horny; a suggestive couch cushion could have done a good job of hardening me up.

When she turned around, whatever vulnerability I’d previously seen had vanished, and she was herself again.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, good.”

She walked to the door and locked it. After a moment’s thought, she turned off the lights.

“You don’t . . . you don’t want the lights on?” I said, assaulted by images of green screens across the nation as night vision videos of my fumbling attempts at sex were broadcast on the worldwide web.

“It’s better this way,” she said. “This way, we experience it through taste or touch or smell, not by seeing . . . whatever we’d be seeing. So there’s no comparing. On either end. Now take off your clothes.”

Oh Lord, she’s deformed,my brain said, ever the joker, even when I was the only one there to laugh.Under all that black lace and leather, she’s like Quasimodo, or something. Quick, check for the hump!

“Chris, take off your clothes,” she said again, forcefully.

My eyes were still adjusting to the darkness. The only window faced the backyard, which was lined by trees, so there were no street lamps invading the room with their yellow glare. The only light in the room came dimly from under the door.

I resisted the impulse to look in the closet.

I didn’t see her approach, only heard her footsteps.

My heart wouldn’t calm down.

She sat next to me and put her hand on my leg. My wood jumped in my pants.

“Chris, take off your clothes,” she said again, and helped me pull off my shirt.

She threw it on the floor and climbed into my lap, wrapping her legs around my waist, and her arms around my neck—feeling a bit burdened, I lay backwards, putting my weight on my arms—as she drew me in for a kiss.

She tasted like peppermints.

The kiss seemed to last forever. When we finally pulled apart, my breathing had quickened to the point of near-hyperventilation.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” I said, sitting up again. “I just . . . it’s been a long time since I’ve kissed a girl.”

“Not good with the ladies?”

“Not especially,” I said quickly. “I have a tendency to panic when I’m nervous and . . . well, girls in general make me nervous.”

“DoImake you nervous?”

“Extremely.”

I felt the breath of her chuckle on my face. “Good.”

My wood jumped again.

“Lay back,” she said, and untangled her legs from around my waist. Her arms remained tightly around my neck. “Put your hands on my back.”

I did.

“Rub it as I kiss you,” she said. “Up and down and all over, like you’re giving me a massage. Grab my ass, if you want to. Pull me close to enhance the feeling of intimacy.”

I didn’t tell her how little I had to do to enhance the feeling of intimacy. I was feeling pretty fucking intimate.

She pushed me backwards and kissed me again when my back hit the bed. My heart jumped again and was pounding in my ears when her tongue bumped against my teeth; I opened my mouth and she stuck it in without preamble.

Electric.

Her slick tongue slid against mine as she felt inside my mouth, against the roof, then backwards and down, exploring against the back of my teeth, and under my tongue. We wrestled for a moment, pushing against each other, moving for the advantage, and reluctantly giving it up.

My cock jumped, and I reached for my pants.

Breaking away, Miranda slapped my hands away from my pants. “Not yet,” she said, her mouth millimeters from my own. “I want to do this first. I want to get my fill.”

It was a good idea.

“Me too,” I said. “Me too.”

Again she put her mouth on mine; my tongue invaded her, now, and I got my turn to explore foreign territory, and through it all, the licking, wrestling, sucking, my heart was pounding.

Miranda pulled away, then back, then away, and each time, she sucked some part of my mouth with her, using her upper lip and tongue to play with me.

After another eternity, we broke apart, and she began planting tiny, wet kisses down my chin, my neck, my chest.

I gasped when she put her mouth on my nipple.

“You know,” I breathed. “For a virgin, you sure seem to know what you’re doing.”

“I read a lot,” she said.

“So do I, but I don’t—Christ!” I yelped when she licked my nipple. “I don’t take notes!”

“Are you a premature ejaculator?”

I had so little blood left in my head, it took me a moment to realize what she was asking. “What?”

“It’s nothing to get embarrassed about,” she said nonchalantly. “It’s just a question.”

I fucking well beg to differ.“I . . . well, I . . . uh. . . .”

“So you are.”

I nodded my head, then realized she couldn’t see me in the dark.

“Yes,” I said. “I guess.”

“Okay.”

Her hands began undoing my pants.

“Hey!” I yelped, covering her hands with my own.

“What? You don’t want me to? A minute ago your were pulling at them like your penis was on fire.”

It quite was,I didn’t say.

“No, I . . . I do, but warn a guy first.”

“Consider yourself warned,” she said, and unzipped my pants, which she then pulled off, followed quickly by my boxers. My hard cock jumped out of my shorts and bounced a little before coming to a rest.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, and almost choked on it when her warm hands encircled my cock.

I almost came right there.

She gave me a few gentle strokes and stopped.

“Have you ever had a blowjob before?”

“N-no.”

“And I’ve never given one,” she said. “How opportune.”

“I’d say so.”

It jumped again when her lips touched my glans in a gentle kiss.

Slowly, slowly, too slow, she opened her mouth and slid it over my dick, crawling towards the base and back up.

She did this twice, her tongue massaging the bottom and tip of my dick, before pulling her mouth off.

“It tastes weird,” she said. “Not bad, but weird. Tangy. Do you want me to swallow?”

It seemed like such a non sequiter, it took me a moment to fully compute.

To be fair, most of the blood had left my brain. “I . . . what?” was my brilliant response.

“Swallow,” she said. “Do you want me to swallow your come?”