"I just don't think it would be a good idea to be in a virtual relationship," she said through the phone.
His heart sank, he knew she wouldn't be able to make their planned night out...but he hadn't expected this.
"Don't you think it might be a good idea to have someone to just...talk to through this?"
The scent of the cocoa butter body lotion she applied to her mahogany skin wafted through his memories.
"I don't know how much I'm into you," she explained, "and I think that's too difficult to figure out without being able to meet in person."
His mind went back to a week earlier, the two had been splayed out on his silk upholstered sofa. They spooned while he scraped his teeth against the nape of her neck. She had seemed into him then, but perhaps he had just been projecting, interpreting her sighs as moans of ecstasy matching the arousal he felt himself when in reality they were just exhalations of comfort.
"So, you don't even want to keep in touch?"
He could feel his pants tighten as he recalled manipulating her erect nipples with his fingertips.
"I just don't think it would be a good idea, maybe after this is all over."
He resigned himself to yet another disappointment that would mark the least of his or anyone's troubles during this difficult time.
The preceding week had marked rapid lifestyle changes that reverberated throughout the city like whiplash. All non-essential businesses were ordered to close, and non-essential travel was deemed forbidden. This was all in the name of "flattening the curve", slowing the outbreak so that the precarious American healthcare system could deal with the onslaught of new infections. It seemed this would be a death sentence to the sex life of anyone who was not currently partnered.
Already he could barely contain himself. The Coronavirus lockdown had only been a week and already he was a puddle of loneliness and sexual frustration. With a busy work schedule and no stable partner, he'd gone many months without intercourse before, but there was something more trying about the definitive nature of the lockdown. Knowing you definitely weren't going to experience another person's touch for months added exponentially to the usual dissatisfaction.
In his normal life, even when he was going through one of his dry spells he could at least daydream about the possibility of an encounter. Whether it was the cute facilities engineer with the short skirts who sat a couple of rows down from him or the flirty administrator who delivered his lunch, he derived a modicum of nourishment off of the furtive glances and eager exchanges that helped him through each day. It didn't matter whether anything actually came to pass, because sexual desire is frequently just the libidinal expression of the human need for intimacy and at least, in these platonic but sexually charged relationships, he was experiencing some form of closeness with another human being.
He was alone with his thoughts. Sitting on the edge of his kingsize bed he began to reminisce.
About a month earlier he'd been on a dinner date with a Korean art student he'd met on Tinder.
"I think I'm a sex addict."
His eyes grew wide over the shepherd's pie he'd ordered on a whim.
"Well...what are you doing here...dinner with me then?"
He wasn't sure if she was serious, or this was just a line to get him in bed as quickly as possible.
"Ohhh...you've got me there," she blushed...betraying a flirty playfulness.
"Want to meet my cats?"
He'd used this line numerous times, figuring it hit a sweet spot of endearing because he had pets he cared for, and somewhat mad because those pets were cats. It was also a bit of a flex considering they were in New York and few people had the means to care for two animals in an apartment by themselves.
The couple stumbled drunkenly into his one bedroom. She sat down on the far side of his couch.
"So...what do you want to do?"
She ruffled her red leather skirt. He accepted her invitation. His eyes trained on her lips as he leaned in so gradually that his movements were almost imperceptible. Just before making contact he playfully pulled back and looked her in the eyes crooking an eyebrow as if to say, will I? She smiled, momentarily accepting his game, before closing her eyes and pulling him in. Enough nonsense.
Some short while later the two were in his bed, lying side by side as he curled his fingers between her legs.
She giggled, "You like my vagina?"
He was aroused by her candor. Younger girls frequently put on shows, screaming like pornstars in a display that made him feel like they were trying to force themselves to have a good time. He always found this off putting, preferring a more present lover.
He did like her vagina and told her so.
"You have an excellent pussy," he said with genuine surprise in his voice.
"Really? What makes mine so special? ...is it tight?"
She squirmed provocatively. Clearly she had mistaken his honestly for a seductive put-on.
"No, I mean it...your vagina feels really good...it feels...healthy."
He did not actually prefer so-called "tight" pussy and couldn't understand why anyone thought that was desirable. With a cock of five and a half inches length and average girth, he knew his bias had nothing to do with "being too big" and could only make sense of the myth of "tight" pussy as a vestige of America's puritanical obsession with virginity. The sadder but wiser girl was always preferable. Vaginas actually change shape over time, they become more accepting and welcoming. Her pussy had the familiar contours that came with frequent pleasure and indulgence.
She was wet and he could easily feel her swollen g-spot. He knew the "come hither" motion he was making with his fingers felt really good for her. He shifted his position so that he was now crouched on his knees facing her as he rubbed the inside of her vagina more firmly. Placing his other hand over her clitoral hood he started to stimulate her clitoris without touching it directly, making sure to randomize his touches, tracing replicas of Kandinsky and Basquiat on her aroused member.
She began to moan, "Where do you learn?"
He picked up his pace and intensity, rubbing the horseshoe of her clitoris from the inside to the protruding tip.
"I...it's not me...when two people have chemistry...it just works."
