Sensualist Pt. 02 Ch. 05

Thoughts and Things – Ruth, a Resounding Fuck and Confession

The thought occurred to Don as he was drying his hair after swimming practice. I should really practice how I speak to a woman. No, that's not quite right. There are certain things that turn a woman on just as there are things that turn me on. Am I any hornier than the women I meet every day? I doubt it---well possibly, but they're still horny.

Donnie snorted at that, but then pondered those very thoughts again while driving home.

That porno film, what was it called again? Mmmmm, oh yeah, Talk Dirty to Me, with whatshisname, John Leslie in the lead. Now that was some significant shit. Whoever made it gave serious thought to the language used. Can't be sure, but it looked like the women Leslie was screwing were definitely charmed by his words. Maybe all of them didn't cum at his urging, but several did, I'm certain of it.

What do I do that Leslie does to his women? Mmmm, I look them in the eye. Yeah, lots of eye contact. It brings us closer. So what else? Do I tell them what I'm doing, or what I'm going to do? Maybe, but I should make it a definite thing each and every time. I could also tell them what I expect from them. Oh yeah, women seem to like it when you tell them what you want or what you're gonna do to them. I think it might remove some barriers leading to a good fuck.

That's gotta be the way to go. I mean, how fucking hot was it when Nikita's face was mere inches from my dong and she looked up at me---there's the old eye contact---so very important---and she whispered, "I just love your cock ... I wanna rub it all over my face before taking in my mouth and tickling my tonsils."

Ahh, but we all have secrets---especially women and their hidden fantasies—they might hint at them, might even admit to some, but not all. And when you mention past lovers--- they'll never tell you the exact number. They're afraid you'll think them sluts or just easy----probably because the actual fuck was a furtive quickie, or she was either drunk or on the rebound and she doesn't think it fair to count it. Double the number she passes on to you.

On arriving home Donnie strode into his bedroom and stood in front of the full-length mirror and practiced some lines. He soon discovered the importance of projecting feeling into his words and rehearsed them over and over again.

After careful consideration, Donnie told himself Jesus, I should have done this ages ago! My sisters spend, or spent---no, I'm certain they still do it---practicing facial expressions, or how much leg is revealed from one angle or another until they're satisfied they'll show the exact amount of flesh the moment calls for. They probably did the same thing with their tits---if leaning thusly, or breathing just so I'll get the following result....

Damn I've been such a fool not to have noticed it. Aloud he suddenly exclaimed: "But I have! It's such an ordinary thing that it goes all but unnoticed by men! Women must think we're idiots as we allow ourselves to be led by the nose with a glimpse of tit, or flash of thigh. We're so easily manipulated. And look at that. The very word begins with man.

Donnie sighed and spoke to his reflection in the mirror. "It's true enough. We allow it. We expect it. So what can I do about it?

He pondered the problem for some twenty minutes before arriving at a conclusion: rehearsing one's tactics was the way to proceed. They do it and it's proven to work. Why wouldn't it work on them in turn?

And just what do I say, and how do I say it? Save that last for the rehearsal my good man. As to how one says it, mmmm, I suppose trial and error will produce a satisfactory approach. Let's see ... what's a sexy line? How about: I find you so beautiful that I think I will die if I cannot possess you?

Donnie repeated that line several times, and then began again, giving the words a different inflection each time. His reasoning was sound, if not silly. He felt that words were not unlike taco sauce that came in mild, medium and spicy flavors, so why not give his choicest words a special flavor, making them mild, medium or spicy as the moment's mood called for?

Mild might be something along the lines of: "Your lips are so sweet."

Medium: "Mmmm, your mouth is soooo hot! No, better make that I think your mouth is soooo hot! And spicy: "Oh, God I can't wait to taste the rest of you!"

Other lines came to him as he opened his mind to suggestions from his imagination. He was both leased and surprised at the number of ideas rapidly developing while he practiced uttering the words now coming so easily to his mouth.

Suddenly he recalled what he'd said to Nina, the Governor's niece. "I'm going to make you cum; I'm going to make you cum with my tongue on your clit and my finger up your sweet ass.

I'm going to make you cum in ways I haven't even thought of yet, and now I'm going to make you cum with my finger." He remembered how she had looked at him---wide-eyed and enthralled. And her orgasms had been fantastic. She had told him it had never been that good for her before.

It seemed to him that telling the woman what you wanted to do to her would produce the best reaction from them. "I'm going to strip every stitch off you. I'm going to make you so wet you'll think you're going to drown. I'm going to fuck your brains out. You won't be able to walk for two days after I finish with you."

Donnie was smiling at his reflection as he practiced those and similar lines before the mirror.

I bet Nikita would wet herself laughing if she knew what I'm doing right now, he told himself. Then it occurred to him that she would be the perfect woman to practice on. If she accepted it other women will too. It's just that simple. And if she laughs at you, you can get her to tell you what you should do to improve.

A few minutes later while taking a shower he burst out laughing. "I'll tell her I want to break my cock off in her ass! God, that's so fuckin' hot!

Toweling off it occurred to him that perhaps all decent girls wanted to be seen as whores, and treated accordingly---however the following day it would be smart to act as if nothing unusual had happened the night before. It sounds about right; he thought and filed it away for future contemplation, only to think about what they might fantasize in private.

Common sense would indicate that what they fantasize about has nothing to do with what they really want to do with a partner---well maybe occasionally they'll want to dip a toe into dangerous waters, but that wouldn't hold for most women. What does seem plausible is them cheating with another guy either for the excitement itself, or perhaps out of boredom in the case where their partner isn't showing enough interest in them.

Donnie thought back over his own experiences: Miss Ginger, his first, had succumbed to his boyish charms and the lack of any other male presence during those vulnerable moments every woman has. Denise, an over-sexed woman awaiting her wedding day, had taught him many things including several insights into a female's thought processes. She had also helped him seduce Alice, in fact she had seduced the girl first and then added him to the equation, that is, if he recollected correctly. The others hadn't provided anything unique except for Nikita, who was a constant surprise and treasure as far as he was concerned.

Then again, they're always testing you! They analyze everything. Every action, word, gesture, email, and facial expression.They seem to remember every word you say to them, whether it's about them or someone else. What's more they're insecure. Even though they may be well off financially, they're insecure regarding the man in their life. They need constant indications that you want them around. That's why it's better to say, "I want you to come away with me for the weekend. Could you come with me?" than to ask, "What are you up to this weekend?"

He'd done exactly the opposite with Nikita the week before when broaching a trip to Atlanta only to be met with a stony silence for an hour or two. Then the questions started: why this weekend? Who will we be meeting? And so on.

Donnie was certain he had much to learn from Nikita, and looked forward to it. In the meantime he decided to put some of what he'd learned into practice on campus.

Donnie had been conscientious in attending his classes, however because of his casual and confident demeanor along with his style of dress, he was often mistaken for a professor or assistant when moving about the campus and even while in some classes.

Which was how he met Ruth. Actually, they met in one of the bars just off campus that catered to the collegiate crowd and wasn't all that concerned about the age requirements necessary to buy alcoholic drinks. Donnie was hanging with several fellow freshmen from his English 101 class. They were talking to some high school girls with phony ID's. They were all at least eighteen---but not twenty-one---and had sought the guys out, thinking that college students sitting with a professor (Donnie) were older and might buy them the drinks they otherwise might be carded for.

The thing was everyone at the table was underage insofar as the law was concerned. Yet no one had challenged them, and so knowing that management wouldn't bother the girls either, Donnie invited them to sit with them, endearing himself to the other, more reticent males in the group who happily bought the teenage girls a round of beer.

For some reason Donnie chose to remain fairly quiet, not offering any jokes, laughing along with the others at any semblance of a witty remark. It never occurred to him that his manner of dress set him apart from the others, but it did attract Ruth to him, and soon they were off at another table talking quietly to each other.

By any standard Ruth was different than most women he had met. On the surface she appeared shy and preferred that her men be quiet spoken over all things. But once she got to know him, she lowered her guard and opened up, revealing her innermost secrets in an unusual way.

After finding out that she was hungry, he offered to buy her dinner, which she quickly accepted. She was impressed with the Camaro convertible Donnie drove, and more than impressed when he chose to drive at the speed limit going to and returning from the fancy seafood restaurant.

When she complimented his driving, he thanked her and told her he'd like to see her again. "I'd like that, too," Ruth said. They squeezed hands as she went on to say, "This is the best first date I've ever had. It's the best date in a really long time. I'd almost given up."

Donnie held his surprise in check. For a high school senior, "almost given up," inferred she'd had considerable dating experience, none of which was deemed satisfactory. So what was she looking for?

Donnie decided to go along with her, and said, "That's so true. First dates are such a farce. I mean, both the guy and the girl go out of their way to make the other think

they're something they're not."

"That's sooo true!" she squealed happily, and then added, "But you didn't!"

"True," he admitted, "but on that basis, the night isn't over yet." And, still driving, he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the lips which she accepted without comment; after which he drove her home.

Ruth asked Donnie to park up the block from her house and he did, and they resumed their earlier conversation. Ii took about fifteen minutes before Ruth obliquely approached the subject of sex, and when she did, Donnie jumped in with both feet.

"What I like about dating regularly is the sex," he said blandly.

"Sex? Who said anything about sex?" Ruth said defensively.

"Why you did," he put in, and moved on before she could deny having mentioned it. "But I apologize if you had something else in mind and I overstepped myself with you."

"Well," she said after a moment's pause, "I think that we ... as mature adults can converse about anything and that would include sexual matters."

"Okay," he said, "then let's talk about the proverbial third date."

Ruth actually rolled her eyes in exasperation at him.

Donnie laughed. "You know, that third date where couples get it on?"

"I know exactly what you're talking about. I happen to be a person who does not believe in it."

"You don't?"

"No I don't," she said emphatically.

"Then it follows that you think that if two people like one another ... umm, well enough they can have sex on their first date."

"Well, put in that context, yes, but I ...."

Donnie had already pooled the information he possessed on Ruth and weighed it. High school senior---almost given up---yet considerable dating experience---led him to think she was not a virgin, but had had an unsatisfactory experience. With that he took a calculated chance and said: "You know this is our first date. Have you considered having sex with me?"

"What!" she exclaimed, clearly shocked by his statement.

Donnie realized that her body language was sending an entirely different set of signals. The clearest one being she was genuinely excited by the turn in the conversation.

"You realize we're only yards away from my house. My father might pop out of the house at any moment...."

"Yes, and you're merely sitting in my car talking with me. That's a totally innocent act. Isn't it?"

"Well, yes, that's true---but...."

"Now if your sweater was pulled up," and Donnie quickly raised it up, exposing her lacy bra to him and anyone passing by.

"Are you crazy?" she bleated, but didn't move to repair her sweater to its former place.

"No, I'm not crazy. I'm only demonstrating that you and I are both thinking about having sex."

"You think...." She said and stopped. The typical girl would have returned her sweater to its original position and gotten out of the car in a huff. But Ruth just looked Donnie in the eye and let a long moment pass before speaking again.

"You're right. Of course I'm thinking about sex," she said, and in a softer voice added, "But I can't ... at least not here."

With this admission, Donnie felt he had to make a concession of some kind and after a momentary pause he took the hem of her sweater and tugged it back down over her bra. Then he lightly brushed both hands over her breasts, and said, "You're right, Ruth, this isn't the right place. But you should know that I want you, and with that in mind, I'm inviting you over to my place tomorrow afternoon, say about two."

"What, are you crazy?"

But he was already writing his address down and handed it to her before she said another word. Ruth read the address before speaking again.

"This ... this isn't on the campus. It's on Chestnut Avenue," she said, making it more of a question than statement.

"That's right. I have my own place off campus. I think you'll like it. In fact, I know you'll enjoy your time there."

"I ... I have to go, Don, but I ... I want you to know something."

"Yes, Ruth?"

"I don't usually go out with older guys and all ... I mean, you're a professor and ...."

"I'm not a professor, Ruth, I'm a student, in fact, I'm a freshman."

"But you---you have a way---in fact, you make me wet. You make me very wet."

As the words left her mouth she was opening the car door and hopped out. Once the door closed and she saw that he was still inside the car, she said quietly, "Okay, tomorrow, at two, Don."

"Keep it wet for me, Ruth," he replied blithely, and saw her blanch at his words before turning and walking stiffly toward her house. As she opened the front door she turned back to look at him, her face now composed, but certainly lacking the smile that Donnie thought would be there.

Now what the fuck did I do? Don asked himself, and after she'd gone into the house without any further interest he drove off.

By the following morning Donnie had all but written Ruth off as a no show. Still he headed home after his last class and was thinking about having a beer or two with Dolph or one of his other teammates when Ruth rang his doorbell at exactly two o'clock.

She all but took his breath away on opening the door. She was standing there in a black spaghetti sleeveless dress, with a pearl necklace and very high stiletto heels. She'd also taken pains to have her hair done. The shoes alone told him that she was in a 'fuck me now,' mode. His job would be to keep her in it.

"I---I didn't expect this," he said. "You look wonderful! I mean it; you really look wonderful, like you just stepped out of a fashion magazine!"

Ruth improved upon her appearance by stepping forward and kissing him on the lips. It was not just a peck, but a firm, although brief, contact of lips, which both instantly processed through their respective brains.

Mmmm, Donnie thought, she knows how to kiss. And that was only the beginning.

Wow! Ruth thought, I didn't mean to do that---but I'm glad I did. He tastes yummy. I can't wait for more of that. Much more, I hope.

"Come in, come in" he said as ingratiatingly as possible. Donnie had her sit on his new loveseat, (all the furniture was new) and inquired if she'd care for a glass of wine.

"I'd love some," she said quickly, looking around the living room.

"You have a lovely place, Don.

Handing her a glass of wine, he sat beside her and told her that she had stunned him with her appearance. She smiled said a silent 'thank you,' put the glass down and kissed him again.

The kiss was long and incredibly romantic, but neither opened their mouths, although Donnie did pull her close enough to crush her breasts against his chest.

Donnie wondered what had happened between the night before and her rather cold departure after a seemingly positive beginning to their relationship when Ruth smiled and said: "Are we still being honest?"

"Yes," he replied, "why?"

"You're different. I mean really different than the guys I usually meet."

"Oh, how so?" Donnie asked.

"You're much more confident ... for one," she said, fingering the pearls around her neck.

Don nodded and when she didn't continue, inquired, "Are you hungry?"

"Mmm, I could manage something, yes thank you," she replied, thinking he had a snack or desert of some kind prepared.

"Then let's go to Rossetti's, I'm told it's very good."

The restaurant was as fine as he'd said it would be. A short stroll from Rossetti's brought them to a bar for a drink and dessert, but the aromas and tastes of liquor and sweets faded with the passing minutes as his senses shifted their focus to Ruth: her voice, her scent, her face and pale green eyes. He was certain she knew that he was hard, and had been hard ever since sitting down at the restaurant. He noticed an all but imperceptible shiver on her part when he'd touched her shoulder as their conversation turned inward, to the sweet overtures of new lovers still stuck in public.

He recalled an alleyway just down the street. Could he take her there against the grimy wall? Probably not while wearing that expensive dress.

He drove them back to his place without as much as a chaste kiss. They were both relatively quiet, as he unlocked the front door and led her up the stairs---Ruth just a half step ahead of him. Don had one hand on the small of Ruth's back, the other before his nose where he deeply inhaled the scent of her perfume, Coco Chanel, he thought, for it was more intoxicating than any alcohol.

They embraced and kissed just outside his bedroom door. His hands were already caressing her braless breasts inside the black dress; then he was hitching up her skirt. The kiss went on as they became more and more familiar with each other.

"Are we being honest with each other?" Ruth asked, moving even closer to him.

In turn, Don leaned in even closer and whispered in her ear, "As honest as you want us to be, Ruth."