Do You Take It?

Do You Take It?
"So," April said, toying idly with the swizzle stick in her Bay Breeze, "do you take it in the ass?"
My mouth dropped open.
I have some strange friends. April might be the strangest of them. She's a retired porn star in her late thirties, and a self-described sex maniac. She once said that she'd never met a man she didn't want to fuck on the spot. Considering the way she reacts to anything male she sees, I believe her.
I met April through a mutual friend I'll call Deedee. She said she introduced us for April's sake: "She needs some normal friends."
"Hey, what about me?" I said.
"You've got enough normal friends." Deedee grinned. "You've got me."
"You? A multimillionaire former boat person who used to be a child prostitute?"
"Believe me, honey," she said with a grin, "In LA, that's normal."
Sometimes I think my relative innocence offends Deedee. But let's get back to the story.
"Are you serious?" I said.
April nodded. "You can't imagine what it feels like."
I shuddered. "Oh, I think I can, thank you."
"No, really." She leaned over the little table between us and produced a conspiratorial grin. "Besides, it's really practical."
I frowned. "For what?"
She held up a finger. "First, for not getting pregnant." Another finger. "Second, for making a guy worship the ground you walk on." A third finger. "Third, for variety."
Variety? I was only twenty-three years old. I'd barely gotten acquainted with normal sex. Open the dictionary to straitlaced and you'll find pictures of my boat-person parents. Full-color pictures. With attached biographies.
"What about...sucking?" I said.
She flipped a hand dismissively. "That's for him."
"Hey, you always said you like it."
She chuckled. "Well, yeah, but it's definitely an acquired taste. And it takes some work to acquire it."
"Wouldn't it be the same for...you know?"
"Getting fucked in the ass?" She shrugged. "Yeah, first time or two it stings a little, especially if he's a dick about it. But you get used to it pretty fast."
"What's the point, apart from those...practical things you mentioned?"
"The point?" April's eyebrows went up like rockets. "Honey, the payoff is fantastic. You'll never get off as well from anything else. A first-class cunt licking might come close, but I doubt it. Anyway, there aren't many guys who are that good with their tongues, or that willing to put in the effort. But damn near any guy will be happy to put it in your ass."
I couldn't think of a word to say.
Fortunately, the bar was empty except for the two of us and the bartender. One of the benefits of setting my own hours.
"There is one thing you should know, though," April said after a moment's silence.
"What?"
"If he suggests it, say no, absolutely not. It should always be your idea, never his. In fact," she said, her expression growing intense, "if he ever asks for it, even if the two of you have done it before, it should be off the menu forever."
She actually managed to get me curious with that. "Why is that?"
"Just trust me, babe."
"Okay."
* * *
It wasn't long after that conversation that I started going out with Brian.
Yes, this Vietnamese-American dates white guys. I prefer them, actually. Less nonsense overall. The typical Asian man has ideas about male-female relations that I just can't deal with. The exceptions are rare. Black men? Forget it. I've had some bad experiences, and I don't want any more of them. So I stick to white guys. There's plenty of them, on the whole they're pretty decent, and they seem to like me, so why not?
Brian was a coworker, a fellow engineer. I never thought I'd get involved with a coworker-it just seemed like a bad idea-but he was so sweet and friendly and helpful at work that when he finally got around to asking me out-it took eight months of close daily contact-I couldn't bring myself to say no. Also, I'm a petite gal and he wasn't really big, so we seemed to be a good fit physically.
If it ever got to that stage, that is.
Yes, he was kinda shy. Especially about physical stuff. I initiated our first kiss, and our public hand-holding, and...well...everything else. Not that I'm all that hot-blooded...at least, I wasn't...but the more time we spent together, the more the idea of sex with him appealed to me. Besides, if I left the first move up to him, there was a good chance it would never be made. He really was that shy.
But once I got him into my apartment, got his clothes off and turned the lights down...my oh my!
No, size doesn't matter...above a certain mandatory minimum, anyway...but tenderness and enthusiasm definitely do. And Brian had both of them in spades.
Yes, had. Wait for it.
* * *
We'd been fucking every night for about six weeks when April's suggestions came back to me. Yes, I thought of it as fucking rather than making love. I'm not that innocent, and anyway, there are a few steps between first sexual intimacy and declaring oneself to be in love. Quite a few. As sweet as Brian was, for those first six weeks I resolved not to rush it.
We were between the sheets at the time. I had his cock and balls in my hands, fondling them gently. I liked the smoothness of his rod, the velvety texture of the skin at the head. I marveled at the responsiveness of his balls, how they quivered and convulsed as I passed my fingertips over them. And I loved that he was ready for me again. Even though I'd sucked him to orgasm once and we'd fucked only a few minutes after that, he was hard again. Very hard. Like granite.
The look on his face told me he was still rarin' to go. It warmed me like nothing else ever could. The hell with what the feminists say; a stiff cock-attached to an attractive man eager to use it on you, that is-is the greatest compliment a woman's beauty and appeal can ever receive.
And boy oh boy, did I ever want to receive it. I was getting fonder and fonder of Brian, practically by the second. I wanted him in ways I'd never wanted any man. After only three months as an "item" and six weeks of sexual intimacy, I was thinking wedding bells, white picket fences, and baby carriages.
I realized I wanted him to feel the same. I wanted him to worship the ground I walk on. And with that, April's suggestion surged to mind at full force.
I already had a load of his cum in my belly and another in my cunt. Why not...complete the trilogy?
"Can you hold that thought for a second?" I said.
He looked momentarily puzzled, but grinned. "Yeah, I think so."
"Wait here."
I got out of bed and went to the bathroom medicine chest.
Yes, I keep K-Y jelly handy. I always have. Every girl has dry spells, and anyway, there was April's suggestion.
I returned to my bedroom and stood by its side with the tube displayed prominently before me.
He frowned as he sat up in bed. "Why do we need that?"
"First," I said, "I'd like you to tell me a few things. Are you bisexual?"
Hey, this is LA. You have to ask.
His eyes went wide. "Hell, no!"
"Okay," I said. "Second, have you ever used intravenous drugs?"
His look of outrage was all I needed, but he answered with another impassioned negative.
"Very good," I said. "Third..." I swallowed as I edged up to the point of no return. "Would you like to fuck me in the ass?"
I'll never forget the look on his face.
"Do you really want that?" he murmured.
I grinned and nodded.
He held out his hand for the tube of K-Y.
* * *
He took it slowly, even reverently. It was plain he'd never done it, or anything like it before. He lubricated my asshole so gently, so tenderly, that I thought he might lose his nerve. When he first put the head of his cock to my sphincter, I started a little, and he immediately pulled back, plainly fearing that he had hurt me.
"No," I said. "Go ahead. I want it."
He hesitated.
"What's wrong, sweetie?"
"I just..." he faltered. "I just can't believe we're about to do this."
I looked back over my shoulder and smiled. "I can. Just go slow."
He did.
Yes, it hurt as he first entered me. A little, anyway. But the anus is a highly elastic muscle. What it can pass going out it can pass going in. The pain went away pretty fast, and the pleasure was everything April had promised.
The sense of fullness was utterly unique. When his groin was pressed tight against me, the full length of his cock buried in my ass, it made me feel as if I'd been completed in some inexpressible fashion. I pulled his hand to my cunt and pressed his fingertips to my clit, and he got the idea at once. He stroked my little nubbin as he thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew, always slowly and smoothly, continuously attentive to my motions and the sounds I was making.
My orgasm was a blockbuster. A city buster. April hadn't exaggerated in the slightest. When I came, I screamed and shook like never before. I clamped down on him so hard I was afraid I might wrench his cock off.
It was the same for him. He spasmed and cried out as he filled my ass with his third cum of the night. His shakes and gasps went on for several minutes.
I felt his cum erupt into my bowel as I'd never felt anything before. It was an irrigation. An anointing. A baptism. A passage to a new stage of womanhood...of bonding to my lover.
All at once I was ready to take that step. We weren't fucking any more. We were making love. Vaginal, oral, or anal simply didn't matter.
He lay full length on my back and brought his lips to my ear.
"Are you happy?" he whispered.
I nodded, unable to speak.
He kept his cock buried in my ass long after our orgasms had passed. I wanted it there. It felt so right there, so snug and warm. The sense of fulfillment was total. I wondered if I'd ever want a cock in my cunt again.
Prophecy has never been the strongest of my psychic powers.
* * *
Things quickly got strange after that. Unpleasantly strange.
Work became a place I didn't want to be. I felt as if the eyes of every man in the shop were on me at all times, and not in a good way. I got a definite vibe of evaluation from them, as if I could hear them thinking slut in the caverns of their skulls. Some of them became subtly forward: brushing past me unnecessarily close in the corridors, tipping winks and suggestive eyebrow twitches at me as they went, telling sexually oriented stories and jokes they knew I could overhear, often with sideways glances to catch my reaction. No more socially forward or assured than average before that, the development caused me to retreat into a personal shell.
Brian's behavior changed, too. He became more physically assertive with me, considerably more. Never before had he dared to touch me in any way while we were in the office. That set of inhibitions seemed to have gone the way of the dodo. In combination with the other developments, it wasn't a change I was pleased about.
We continued to spend our nights together, but those too had changed. After that first ass-fucking, our encounters became eerily silent, as if once our clothes were off we were afraid to speak. He went for the tube of K-Y as soon as he was hard-and it took him almost no time to get hard. He didn't ask and he didn't wait for any suggestions or demurrers from me. He merely grabbed the lubricant, flipped me onto my belly, greased me up, and took me up the ass as if it were the one and only form of fucking we'd ever known or wanted.
I wanted him in my cunt. Hell, I wanted him in my mouth! I wanted to face him as we fucked, to stare into his eyes and watch them change as the pleasure overwhelmed him and compelled his surrender. I wanted to get on top, slip his cock slowly into me, and take control of the act. I'd done it often enough in the past. But I didn't say anything. He kept going straight for my ass, and I didn't say anything.
I couldn't think what to say. I'd invited him down that path of my own free will. I could hardly tell him he was overdoing it, that I wanted a fuller, more complete physical relationship rather than just getting ass-fucked every night, without having to talk it out. It was a conversation I felt unprepared to initiate.
The pleasure of it continued to be mutual and mutually intense...for a while.
* * *
"You don't look happy," April said. She pushed her drink aside and reached for my hands. "Work or love?"
I nodded. "Both."
She rubbed my fingers and peered closely at me. "Lay it on me, girlfriend."
I started to speak, stopped.
What was I prepared to say? That I'd taken her suggestion to heart, and there had been consequences I hadn't intended and didn't much like? I didn't want to lay a guilt trip on her; she was a good friend, a good heart, and a reliable shoulder when I needed one. If that sounds strange coming from a fairly naive twenty-three year old about a retired porn star and self-described sex addict fast closing in on forty, it was still true. It's remained true.
So I sat there in a state of brain-lock, unable to choose a conversational path. April's gaze became knowing, and somewhat rueful.
"You let Brian fuck you in the ass, didn't you?"
I nodded.
"And it hasn't worked out?"
Another nod.
She grimaced. "Let's have the gory details."
I gave them to her. She listened silently until I'd run down.
Her evaluation consisted of a single word.
"Shit."
I had to smile. "It hasn't affected that, thank you."
"Well," she said, "let's just say I wouldn't have been surprised. So why haven't you hauled him up by the short 'n' curlies?"
"I...don't know how."
She waited.
"I started it, April. I felt myself falling in love with him. I wanted him to worship the ground I walk on. I thought that was the right way, that it would be okay. I can hardly blame him for being a little..."
"Obsessed with your ass?"
I nodded.
She shook her head and looked briefly away. Presently she said "I'll be right back," rose, and headed for the ladies' room.
I sat, unable to move and barely able to think, until she returned. When she reseated herself at our table her face was bright red, as if she'd been slapped several times with great force. She reached across the table and took my hands again.
"Forgive me," she said.
"For what?"
"For forgetting that you're not a sex addict and a naturally dominant bitch like me."
"Oh. Well," I said, "I suppose it's an easy enough mistake to make. I mean, look at me."
That made her laugh. It raised both our spirits about an iota and a half. She squeezed my fingers.
"One of the things I keep forgetting to tell you," she said, "is that if you want control-any degree of control at all-you have to take control. Even if you only want it half the time, you have to take it from the start. You must never, ever let him forget that your body is a gift, not something he has a God-given right to use as he pleases. 'Cause once that attitude sets in with a man, girlfriend, there's no shifting it and no living with it. You turn into...meat. A bunch of wet holes for him to masturbate into. It's something a lot of girls never learn."
"When did you learn it?"
She grinned. "At my first shoot. Asshole director tried treating me like one of his props. I hauled him up short. Made me something of a legend around the sound stages." A gentle snort. "It's also one of the reasons I retired pretty young for my business. It gets tiring having to prove that you won't take shit from anybody. And in porn there's always another big swinging dick riding into town."
I absorbed it all and digested it slowly as we finished our cocktails.
As we prepared to leave, I said "April?"
"Hm?"
"I never asked what you do for a living now."
She grinned. "I'm in finance now. VP for a venture capital firm."
"Wow. What a jump!"
"Not at all, girlfriend. You wouldn't believe how handy a take-no-shit attitude is among the world's high rollers. Especially men who look at this"-she indicated her abundant blonde hair and gorgeous figure-"and think they can peel me like an onion."
"I could use some of that," I said.
"Well," she said, "take a cutting from mine and water it frequently and copiously."
"With what?"
"Semen," she said. "What else?"
* * *
That Friday night I waited until all my coworkers except Brian had gone home for the evening. He and I left shortly after that. I surprised him by following him to his car and blocking the driver's side door. He stopped in confusion.
"You're not coming to my place tonight, Brian."
He rocked as if I'd slapped him. "Why not?"
"I want to be alone for a change."
All the color drained from his face. "Why?"
"Do I need a reason?" I felt my temper rising. "Do I have to have your approval before I can have some time and space to myself?"
He stood speechless, unable to comprehend the change. I groped for April's persona as I conceived it, felt it slip over me like a form-fitted catsuit.
"I don't answer to you, Brian. Never think that I do. Never think that I'm anything but a free and independent individual, an American citizen entitled to the pursuit of happiness-as I see fit, not you. Tonight my happiness requires that I be alone. Therefore I will be alone. You have no say in the matter. You never have and you never will. End of discussion."
I waited for him to speak.
"What have I done to offend you?" he said.
"Is it necessary that you offended me? Don't you know anyone who wants or needs to be alone now and then?"
He flushed and dropped his gaze to the parking lot macadam.
After a moment he looked up and said "Will we see one another this weekend?"
"I don't know yet. Let me have the evening to think about it."
I stepped sideways, turned, and made my way through the gloom to my car, never looking back.
* * *
The weekend dragged by torturously. I was determined to get to Monday morning without calling Brian. I didn't know if I could maintain my resolve not to discuss our sex life when we were next alone together. For all that I'd succeeded in asserting myself about my right to private time, I remained unready to broach my dissatisfaction with the direction our fleshly relations had taken.
Monday arrived too soon. I drove to the shop in a state of dread, completely uncertain what I might say when I saw Brian there.
He wasn't there when I arrived. He wasn't there an hour later, or two hours, or four. It was nearly noon when I found out why he wasn't there...when we all found out.
By email, the director of engineering called us into the large conference room for an unscheduled meeting. We entered in silence, uniformly curious and more than a little apprehensive about what we were to hear.
It turned out we had good reason to be apprehensive. The police had just identified Brian's corpse.
The details were unknown, but the gist was that Brian had gone out Sunday night looking for a fight. He found one. The man who killed him was in a cell, soon to be arraigned and await a trial date.
From the moment of the announcement of Brian's demise, every eye in the conference room was riveted to my face. Apparently our relationship was well known, within the engineering directorate at least.
I clocked out at once, went directly home, threw myself onto my bed, and cried until I could cry no longer.
* * *
It's been a year. I still miss him. Yes, things between us had gone to shit, but relationships can recover from such things, at least sometimes. I felt as if I were complicit in his death, even though his decision to go looking for trouble, for an outlet for his anger and pain, was not my doing. Now and then, when I'm in a particularly melancholy mood, I still scourge myself for it.