The Sun Also Rises

by D.T. Iverson

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Consensual, Romantic, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Although it was not as highly rated as others, this is my personal favorite of all of my stories. I tried to keep it as close to the Hemingway novel as possible. But the lost generation is 90 years old. So I had to come up with a more modern way to separate my hero from his balls. Nevertheless, the rest of the story still leverages the original's plot and characters. I've never run with the bulls. So I moved this to a situation that I have experienced myself. I think Papa would approve.

I first met Janet on a porch in Adams-Morgan one steamy DC night. It had been a typical summer day. Both the heat and the humidity were hovering around 100. And I’d sweated through my underwear.

Nobody in their right mind would be in Washington in July. Seriously!!! -- it’s no coincidence that the varmints in Congress scamper off for a five-week recess. Nonetheless, my graduate work chained me to the place. And as a result I stood on that porch, suffering.

It was fucking miserable.

I straightaway noticed two things about my future wife.

First, she was draped in a ratty old porch couch looking totally shitfaced. She wasn’t passed out or anything. But she was clearly at a place where her judgment might be seriously impaired. That boded well for my drought relief problem

I had been going through a lengthy slump in the sex-with-anything-but-my-hand department. I am not a predator. And I would never force an unwilling girl. I am just somebody who typically requires the help of a lot of alcohol to score. In short, I do a lot better with females if their powers of observation are reduced to a point where they don’t notice my inherent lack of savoir-faire.

In short, she was exactly what I was looking for in a woman.

Secondly, she had a big beautiful set of jugs. It might seem shallow to be attracted by her chest. But as they say, “You can’t motorboat a personality.” She also had a cute oval face, not beautiful but pleasant and really thick brown hair, which flowed down her back in waves. She had an incredibly sexy mouth with very full and sculptured lips.

I plopped down next to her. She gave me a goofy smile and a slurred, “I was hoping you would come over to talk to me.” This was something new? Most of the time when I sit down next to a pretty girl I get, “Fuck-off creep.”

I am average in every way, height, weight, and looks. And my approach to women definitely needs work. So females usually decide life is WAY too short to waste time talking to me. Having one actually say that she was HOPING that I would talk to her was a new wrinkle.

I tried on my best Prince Charming expression and said, “Do I know you?”

Damn! That wasn’t very charming!!

She said in one of those furry drunk voices that told me that she was well over the line, “I was in your cryptology class last year. Don’t you remember me?” Wow!!! any woman who takes advanced code breaking is a righteous nerd bitch.

I thought to myself, “Hey!!! I’m the ruler of that realm. Maybe that will offset some of the factors that I lack, like looks, money and sex-appeal. Not to mention some simple aspects of personal hygiene.” In fact, this drunken little nerdette might be the girl I have been searching for all of my life.

But I still didn’t remember her. So I asked her what her name was. She said, “Janet Askew.” I recalled a Janet Askew. But that chick had the same general configuration as Shamu the killer whale. And she also sported a set of bangs like she had stepped out of a 1950s Archie and Veronica comic book.

This little woman had a very trim and curvy figure with magnificent tits and was dressed like she had graduated from Choate. I looked puzzled.

She giggled drunkenly and said, “You knew me before I lost all of the weight. I had some issues after my parent’s divorce and ballooned up to where I was in your class. It took a lot of therapy and a crash diet, but I am back to my normal self now.”

I took a second look at her. She was not beautiful but she WAS incredibly sexy.

She had an open, pretty “girl-next-door” face and the aforementioned bosom. But she also had long slim legs and nice round hips in a skin tight pair of beaten out jeans. A little yellow spaghetti strap top showed perhaps four inches of prime dusky cleavage.

She was looking invitingly at me. So I decided to kiss her. Remember, we were sitting in the dark on the front porch outside a loud party. And we had been acquainted for perhaps 90 seconds at that point.

She surprised me by not slapping me, or screaming and running to the police. Instead she threw one arm around my neck plastered herself to me and opened her mouth for the hottest kiss I had ever been given. It was like she had been waiting her whole life to do that.

I don’t believe in random good fortune. But it had been a long dry spell. So I was NOT in a mood to look a proverbial gift horse in the mouth. I began to fumble with her bra in order to get my hands on one of those incredible ripe melons.

She moaned loudly. Then she began to suck my tongue like it was something a little further down on my body. I finally got a boob in one hand and felt the nipple. I thought that she had nice tits but her nipples were extraordinary. They were substantial thick and round, almost like little Nuks. And they were growing longer as I moved my palm over them. Plus they were incredibly hot and sensitive.

I found out just HOW sensitive when I tweaked one. The shriek that she let out sounded like I was killing her. THAT brought people running.

We heard them coming. So, as half the party arrived we were just nonchalantly sitting there. Both of us were panting like hound dogs on a hot southern porch. But it was dark. And there was no actual evidence that I had been fondling her delightfully heaving bosom about 10 seconds earlier. Not seeing either of us in any form of distress; the severe blue-balls that I was suffering from were not readily apparent, the posse of would-be rescuers went thundering past us and out onto the sidewalk looking for the source of the shriek.

She looked at me. I looked at her. And we both burst out laughing.

We had been with each other for approximately fifteen minutes. But I just KNEW that I was going to marry this delightfully quirky little woman. The next night we consummated the inevitable. That was in an all-night session, which was just as sweltering as the DC weather.

We married a scant four months later and settled into a nice little apartment further out the Red Line at Shady Grove. Now I know that you probably think that it was stupid to jump into marriage that quickly. But Janet’s charms had really clouded my thought processes.

I should have suspected something if I had taken time to think about the situation. But Janet was just SO attractive and I was just THAT needy.

Our first few months together were idyllic. I couldn’t imagine a more companionable woman or a more satisfying lifestyle. She and I just clicked. We fucked a lot. But we also did every interesting thing that you could think of in a City with boundless opportunities for diversion.

Everybody thought that we were the perfect pair. Some couples hang all over each other in a drippy kind of lovey-dovey way. Janet is a very smart woman and our life was built around our mutual intelligence.

We kidded and teased each other. We handed each other plays on words like a good comedy team. And we generally shared an affectionate tongue-in-cheek view of the world. It was hard to NOT love a woman who saw the irony and humor in everything that she did.

It was almost too good to be true. And of course it was.

The first sign of things to come was when I met her dad.

We had married in a quick civil ceremony -- as is the nerd way. But she had been bugging me for several months to meet her daddy. Just to get his blessing. So, one weekend we took the Acela up to New York City.

I knew her dad lived in Manhattan. I DIDN’T know that it was overlooking Central Park in the upper 80s. It seems that daddy had made his money the old fashioned way. He had inherited it.

And as F. Scott Fitzgerald puts it, “The rich are different from you and me.”

Daddy treated me with the same scorn that the Lord of the Manor would show any raggedy peasant who his foolish daughter had just dragged home. It almost seemed like he expected me to tug on my forelock every time I addressed him.

In short, I hated him from the moment we met.

Janet also changed 180 degrees. She went from open and friendly, to snide and arrogant. It was clear that she thought the “little people” were beneath her. Being one of the little people myself, I was flabbergasted.

It was also clear that the break-up between daddy and her mother was the result of daddy’s serial philandering. And daddy didn’t try to hide it.

He clung to his right to fuck any female he met with the same fanatical certainty that Charles I must have had about the divine right of kings. Unfortunately I found out what that meant in the worst possible way.

He took us across the Park to the Carlyle for dinner. That experience was so far out of my league that I knew that he had planned it, just to show me how exalted he was.

Janet was in a tight little black dress and heels that put the goods on display. She was turning heads every place we stopped. And both she and her dad were a study in sophisticated New Yorker.

Me - not so much.

I didn’t actually do anything too embarrassing. But I was also not exactly the star of the show. Daddy kept asking me about what I did and I tried to explain about the offer that I had just gotten at Georgetown. It was an Associate Professorship to start. That isn’t normal in academe. In fact I had done very well for myself in that respect.

His response was to blow me off as a “teacher”, which I guess I was. But his tone of voice made it sound like it was something that anybody could do, which it wasn’t.

I certainly was not making the kind of money his daughter was used to. But I was on a solid trajectory for success in my chosen field.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Consensual / Romantic /