Thanks to a great team of editors for helping with this, most of all to Alix, who pointed out wording that might mislead the reader and detract from the story's attempts at humor. TessSoerensen did the major work on the first edit, and Kenjisato cleaned up a few remaining rough spots. Also thanks to an editor who didn't want any credit and to Qetesh for consulting. The German version of this story is posted in German Literotica as "
Stolz und Vorurteil
" by egonhoppe73.
"Splat!"
That was the sound of the flimsy plastic tub that slipped out of Vanessa's hands as it hit the floor, burst open and sent a geyser of hummus erupting into the air.
"Damn it!"
That was Vanessa's reaction as she saw the greasy brown mixture of chickpeas and sesame seeds coloring the floor, her skirt and her blouse.
She tiptoed around the mess to get a food storage container and a spoon. She scooped what was left in the tub into the container and put it in the fridge. Then she mopped the floor. Finally, she washed off her skirt and blouse with a damp sponge. When she finished, she didn't see any hummus on her, but she still smelled it.
She thought about taking a shower before Bert got home but decided not to. He wouldn't care that much about the smell, and she was planning to take a shower before going to bed anyway.
As she fixed dinner, the smell appeared to be everywhere. It got her thinking. She wouldn't say anything when Bert came home, but when he brought it up, she would be ready with some snarky responses. Bert would think of some replies in the same vein.
They enjoyed repartee that required a little imagination mixed with wit. It was one of the things that attracted them to each other.
He had moved into her apartment four months ago because hers was much nicer than his. So far, things were going well, and she felt that their feelings for each other were growing. There was only one problem.
When they discovered the obstacle, they talked about it and agreed that it would be ridiculous to let it ruin their relationship, yet each was concerned because it was something that would impact the rest of their lives if they stayed together.
The problem was oral sex. They both loved it, but only if they were on the receiving end. Vanessa was used to boyfriends who eagerly ate her out at every opportunity. Bert was the first man she had ever met who became nauseous at the idea.
He said that he was used to the smell of a woman's arousal, and it didn't bother him unless he got too close to the source. He had tried giving oral to a few girlfriends and failed miserably. Sometimes, he had to excuse himself and secretly rinse out his mouth in the bathroom because of the taste and smell. Perfume didn't help. Rather than cover up the smell, it made him feel even more like throwing up.
Previous boyfriends had tried to talk Vanessa into a blowjob, but the thought of putting a cock in her mouth put her off. Though she loved to stroke Bert's cock and balls, that's as far as she would go. Her reaction to come was similar to his feelings about women's secretions. She could stomach the smell if her nose wasn't too close to it. As for ever tasting it, she was sure it would provoke a fit causing her to swallow her tongue and choke to death.
When they first discovered each other's aversions, Vanessa wondered how long Bert would stick around. He told her later that he wondered the same thing about her.
Strangely, all that happened was they became even closer, and she continued to be delighted with everything else she discovered about him. He seemed to feel the same way. At the same time, they both were aware, as he put it, of a dark cloud hanging over their heads.
"It's so stupid," he confided in her. "All of my friends love to do it, and they can't understand why I don't. I need to find a way to get over my phobia."
"I know how you feel," she said. "I've been asking myself, 'What's the problem?' I guessed one answer, and I don't like it."
'What is it?"
"We're snobs. We're uppity and arrogant. We're putting on airs."
He thought for a moment and then laughed before he spoke.
"We think our come is privileged."
She picked up on where he was going immediately. A few seconds later, she had a rejoinder.
"We won't go the extra lap for each other."
"We won't lose face to give head," he snapped back.
"Your nose is in the air instead of in my bush."
"You'll hold your head high to sip a martini but you won't bend it to slurp my salami."
She nodded to indicate that he had cracked the best one so far.
"You have to get off your high horse and down between my thighs."
"You're too stuck up to suck cock."
"You're too prissy to lick pussy."
He groaned and sighed.
"We're overly smegma sensitive."
She looked at him and whistled.
"I give up. I can't top that one."
They gazed at each other silently. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as she was. Why were they letting this ruin their chance for happiness? From their conversations, she knew they both understood how elusive that was.
"I know we'll find a solution," she finally said in a confident voice. "We've got the brains to work out how to get past this."
Inside, she wasn't as sure as she acted, but the exchange did make her rethink the problem. Instead of swinging between denial and anxiety, she decided to treat it as if it was a personnel problem at work.
