Each of these stories is relatively stand alone, but if you entered the series through this chapter, a quick summary for you: Jade, a Master's Anthropology student is determined to explore the full range of human sexuality. She's encountered Elroy, a (slightly) older man, who is happy to help her, beginning with losing her virginity. As usual, should you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, leave me a comment and/or give it a high rating. - ek
It was as if Pandora herself had opened Jade's head, releasing the entirety of her desires into the world.
She was non-stop, insatiable, and quickly surpassed my capacity to satisfy her. She had decided to expand her diary study—beyond her initial foray, her eyes blazed when she talked about an entire treatise on the human sexual condition.
"Denial," she said one day over breakfast. "Edging, self-denial, one person denying a group, a group denying an individual…the Puritans! A small group denying entire nations! There's a chapter there!"
That particular chapter was inspired by our recent exploration into the world of edging, something she absolutely hated at first, but fell in love with after "the most mind-blowing orgasm I've had since that first time."
That 'first time' became a yardstick for her. How could it not? Isn't it for all of us? I was pleased it was a high point for her to return to, but I gently tried to help her reduce its significance.
"Jade," I whispered as we were waking up one morning. Her eyes stared into mine as her fingers played with my cock. "I want to fuck you…now…to feel your wet silky sleeve glide on my cock, your muscles gripping me, to pull my cum into you."
She closed her eyes, her lip tucked under her teeth letting me know she was horny, that she was warm to the idea.
"But I want to fuck you now, in this moment. Do you understand?" I slipped my hand to her mound, my fingers gently pulsing her clit beneath its hood. It was spongy, but her light gasps told me I was on the right path.
She nodded. "You want to fuck me, you want us to fuck each other, in this moment, not as if it is the four hundredth fuck we've had since we started. Yeah?" Her voice was breathy, her fingers joining mine as she guided me to what she needed.
"Yeah," I agreed, kissing her briefly, "that's what I would like to do with you, right now."
We fought a bit more than I wanted. She was relentless in her pursuit of more sexual experiences, something I was thoroughly supportive of. The irony was that I wanted her to benefit from my own experience: to take precautions, to reduce the risks, to think before taking a new leap. She accused me of being jealous (which she later apologized for. She realized, after taking other lovers, how little jealousy played in our relationship), of patronizing her (I admitted guilt there, and agreed to find other ways to express myself), of not being man enough to satisfy her (I laughed so hard she had to give up that line of attack. Our makeup sex was particularly intense after that one), of not caring enough for her to fight for her.
That one showed up one day and never seemed to get resolved.
I accused her of being selfish, self-centered and egotistical (she admitted that being the youngest in her family, practically being raised as an only child, may be a factor. But, she rightly countered, that she had been more than a generous lover, which I couldn't deny), of being young and naïve (which she never let me forget, and for which I apologized profusely. She might have mentioned that that makeup sex had been one of the best), and for being thoughtless in her risk-taking (which she always thought was just a variation on my selfishness theme, but which I continued to hold as separate: she was putting me and her other lovers at risk. She agreed to adult a bit more, which, in retrospect, she admitted had probably saved her a lifetime of trouble).
But it was clear she had found a purpose. 'PhD,' started showing up in her conversations; a far cry from when I'd casually asked what her plans were.
"Fuck if I know!" She snapped at me. "Why is everyone asking me that?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps because you are graduating soon, and everyone who knows you thinks you have more potential than serving food in a cafeteria?"
She glared at me, her face transforming, sending blood to exactly the wrong part of my body.
"I know," she said later, calming down. "I just don't have any skills, any talent! I don't know who I am or what I want to be!"
The curse of youth.
But hell if I was going to say
that
. But now, now that she'd discovered the joys of sex, she was determined to add to the world's body of knowledge.
It was still early in our relationship, only a month or so after we'd hooked up, so I hadn't learned how…determined…she could be. Not that the signs weren't all around me, but her awakening to sex could have been just like any other adolescent's: a discovery of such intense pleasure that it becomes a monomania. Since then, I'd learned. Jade's modus operandi was all about the intensity.
"I'm no scholar," I suggested after a particularly energetic tumble in bed, when her conversation would inevitably turn to a deconstruction of whatever we'd just done, "but I recall a pretty extensive work from the mid-20th century by Masters and Johnson that could be a place to start."
And the next day, armed with that one suggestion, she reported back she'd reached out to several professors across a range of disciplines to learn more. By week's end, she'd discovered the vastness of the erotic landscape.
"It's insane," she remarked over drinks. "4000 years we've been talking, and writing, and singing, dancing, and now videoing about fucking.
"It's incredible," she paused, staring into her glass. "What could I possibly contribute?
"I mean, Dr. Florenz even mentioned an entire sub-genre of virtual reality storytelling that has burst out over the past year. Like, what the fuck?"
I knew that feeling all too well, even if I wasn't an academic. I felt I could offer solid advice about finding niches in well-established markets.
"May I make a suggestion?" I had learned at least that script to reduce patronizing her. She nodded, readying herself to be open. "There's no way to know what your contribution is going to be (or if there'll even be one), until you've gotten up to speed on what's out there.
"Your pursuit isn't much different from mine, in this case; mine is about differentiation in a market, yours is filling in blanks, or extending our understanding of human knowledge. The process is the same, I suspect. But you know this already, Jade, right? I mean, in all the research papers you've written isn't it standard practice to read as much as possible about the topic?"
That earned me a huge hug and a kiss. Within a couple of weeks, she reported she'd identified no fewer than 1600 citations about sexual practices, and she'd only used the Anthropology resources.
"It's as much a category problem as anything else."
I rolled over and looked at her scanning a journal, the covers at her feet, body naked and relaxed, fresh from a good fuck.
"What is?"
"I've been looking at all these references, right? Just at the chapter headings, and that's interesting: how do these authors think about the space? Where do they divide things up? But then I looked at the porn sites, and they use completely different tables of contents…"
"As I hope they would!"
"…and then there's the blogs, and those have entirely different tagging systems. I'm wondering if that would be enough for a…Ohhh, nonononono…fuckkkkk!"
I had slid down the bed and lapped at her open slit, sucking out our spendings while paying special attention to her clit.
*-*-*-*
"You ready to show me the dungeon?"
She had arrived after school, about 4pm, armed with questions about BDSM, and whatever terms I was going to use. I already knew what I was in for; by now, maybe six weeks since we met, there hadn't been a single act she hadn't asked me to unpack, deconstruct, elaborate on, or perform variations on. It was…exciting, actually. She was an eager student, both sensually and in the moment, even as she was completely curious.
Not to say she
liked
all of it, but, as she kept saying: "we can't judge what the villagers do. We just need to understand it through their eyes." Which didn't stop her from reacting strongly to something she didn't enjoy.
She greeted me with a deep kiss, wrapping her arms around me before setting down her backpack.
"You want a drink…or…?" We'd been trying some new weed in the past few days, testing how it changed her impressions and reactions.
"You want to share some of that whiskey you keep going on about?"
I pressed my lips into a thin smile, making another mental note of how confident she had become. Or, maybe she was always this confident, and it was sex that had been her hang up. Or, maybe it was compensating. I decided to keep an eye on it, regardless.
I poured a splash into two glasses and handed her one. "For this part of the tour, folks, I'm going to have to ask you to disrobe."
Luckily, she hadn't brought the glass to her lips. She sputtered and set it down. "Seriously?" She looked around, the sun streaming into the windows. "Okay...you're not just fucking with me…" Her eyes narrowed.
"Nope. House rules." I was already pulling off my shirt. "There is no reason to go into the dungeon with clothes on. We enter the dungeon to partake in the pleasures we find there." In retrospect, it was amusing: in a couple of weeks she wouldn't be dressed in the house most of the time. But this early on, she was still operating by her old rules.