Chapter 2

Thursday night, he finished before she did – and got up to see what was going on. Creeping up the hallway, he needed to be extremely cautious; those sounds ... He didn’t even touch her door, but stood outside of it, listening. He could make no sense of the sounds, initially – the grunts, gasps and whines. He was pretty sure she didn’t work out. But there was a rhythm to them – something hauntingly familiar...

Lucille had three fingers in her hungry cunt, jamming them into it at a rate that caused her palm to slap her pubic mound, stimulating her swollen clitoris. She was soaking wet, which added a second layer of sounds. Panting as orgasm approached, she gasped, “Yes! Yes! Ogod! Ugh! Yes!” The wave of the promised orgasm rose before her, crested, and broke, inundating her. “Uuuuhhhnnnnggghh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!”

Kanye’s cock solidified in his shorts. Instinct told him what reason had no answers for. ‘She’s doing herself – what I do!’ He couldn’t visualize it; he had no idea how a woman might get herself off, but he knew that was what it was ... Smiling, he turned and crept back to his room to draw a second load from his rejuvenated erection.

The discovery altered Kanye’s perception of Lucille. Previously, she’d been sexless. Now, she was female – not that he knew what to do with one. Yes, she was old, by his standards, but she needed her relief, just as he did, and it was something they had in common.

The situation prompted some research into human sexuality in the college library on Friday between classes, bringing Kanye some discoveries. What they were doing – both of them – was natural, but the acts were something looked down upon. Kanye had always serviced his needs in private, instinctively; he discovered that day that the acts weren’t considered something you discussed socially. In fact, sex as a subject seemed to have walls of secrecy wrapped around it. The data was right there, readily available, but people didn’t discuss it – it was ‘nasty’ or ‘dirty.’ Kanye would have classified it as ‘messy,’ but otherwise no big thing...

He almost missed class, twice – the subject was fascinating. That thing he’d been doing for pleasure had other implications – and the acts he’d been performing were considered to be a poor substitute for the act that was the purpose of the whole thing...

Once he delved into the subject, he was surprised that he’d ignored it for so long! Even a purely biological description of sex explained why he had to pump a load of cum out of his cock regularly – a male his age was supposed to be out impregnating women! Just as clearly, it had been made pleasurable so it would occur regularly. But Lucille was doing what he was doing...

Curiosity caused him to embarrass them both when she picked him up. “Um, Lucille? I’ve noticed that you don’t seem to be seeing any guys...”

Lucille turned wide eyes on Kanye. ‘Where did THAT come from?’ “Well, there are reasons, I guess. I’m last year’s model – or maybe last decade’s. I’m not young and hot. Guys aren’t exactly lining up to see me.”

“Oh. Everything still works, though, huh?”

“Yes.” Lucille blushed furiously. “Everything works. What do you know about it?”

“Not a lot. It ... hasn’t been important. It hasn’t even been possible.”

“I don’t know about that,” Lucille croaked. “I’m sure you’re fully capable.”

“Well, no one has come looking to find out – or if they did, they weren’t clear enough about it that I got it.”

“I’m sure it will happen someday.”

“What about you?”

Lucille sighed. “I guess I could say that I’ve been there and done that. I’ve been married. I’ve had children – I’m a mother. I’m coming to the end of the time in my life where more children are even possible – and I wouldn’t want any, now.”

“So you’re not interested?”

“In what?”

“Sex.”

“Kanye, this subject...”

“I’ve been reading. It seems like I’m ignorant because nobody wants to talk about it.”

Lucille gathered herself in. “It’s a cultural thing – but it is in a lot of cultures. Yes, for some reason, we hint at sex a lot, but don’t actually approach it. Somehow, it’s considered rude. Actually, I think it’s because the whole thing is a powder keg. The assumption is that if you start talking more or less openly about sex, you’re asking for it.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I’ll try to answer, anyway. You really ought to have had this discussion with someone some time back.”

“So...”

“I like it. But I’m not decorative and I’m older – I have little to offer a man. Men my age are usually in stable relationships – and if they aren’t, there is a reason. Men your age wouldn’t want to be seen with me. It would suggest that they couldn’t do better and had nothing going for them.”

“So you do without. Do you, um...”

“Kanye! That’s not a question you want to ask a woman!”

“Why?”

“Well...” Lucille got a grip. “They’ll probably lie. There is this weird feature of our culture that any indication that a woman is sexually active in any way devalues her. That’s EXTREMELY odd, since men want to meet women who ARE sexually active. Virginity isn’t the prize it once was, but some people see a woman being pure and virginal as a good thing. The ultimate woman – and this is old school thinking – is one who is a virgin until her wedding night, then suddenly turns into a sexual dynamo – but only focused on her husband. It’s a total fantasy. A highly-sexed woman is unlikely to remain a virgin until she’s twenty or whatever – not when everything works at thirteen or so. And most guys are going to want to sample the merchandise before they make a commitment. The reality is that in this day and age, a woman who goes to her marriage bed a virgin is likely frigid...”

“Frigid?” Kanye cut in.

“Not sexually responsive. A woman who doesn’t derive pleasure from the act. Where was I? Oh, and her husband is likely to be a romantic fool – not to mention severely disappointed. Most men want sex. Young men your age tend to want a LOT of sex!”

“Okay...” They were back to the original question.

Lucille sighed. “Yes. I like sex. “Yes. I masturbate.”

“How often?”

“Kanye!”

“I do, regularly.”

There was a long pause. Finally, Lucille said, “I know.”

“Oops! Was I loud or something?”

“I wash your T-shirts. I’ve had boys. I know what semen looks like – not to mention smells like.” There was no way that Lucille was going to add, ‘I watched you... ‘

“I...”

“You do what you have to. It’s ... natural.”

“Women aren’t going to line up for me...” Kanye defended himself.

“Someone will. In the meantime, we’ll both do what we have to. Okay?”

“Okay.”

By then, they were home. Each of them went about his or her own business.

‘Was he really that ignorant?’ Lucille wondered. ‘I guess it’s possible... ‘

Lucille’s curiosity prompted another odd conversation at dinner. “Kanye, do you know – I guess this sounds silly – what women look like?”

“Well...” Kanye pondered this. “Not really. Only vaguely, I guess. I was six. Girls my age didn’t look much different – maybe more hair, or just how they dressed. Adults were, well, adults. I remember Momma, sort of. People are voices and hands, mostly. Once in a while I had a foster mom who would cuddle me – but that didn’t mean I got to run my hands all over her. Most of them were big, I guess. Pretty much any woman I might remember would be black. Are white women different?”

Lucille frowned, not that Kanye could see it. “I don’t know how to answer that. Superficially, maybe? There is color, and some facial features. I guess there is a wide variety of body shapes in any color. I’m kind of short and kind of fat...”

“How fat?”

“Um, not horrendous, but I’m overweight. A doctor would tell you I’m obese, but they have this standard that nobody seems to be able to meet.”

“Am I fat?”

“No. You’re quite well-built.” Lucille wondered how far she could go with that. “I imagine that you WOULD meet that standard doctors have.” After some hesitation, she added, “You’re quite nice looking.”

“I’m black.”

“That doesn’t seem to be relevant. You’re STILL good looking. I don’t even know if I really want to express it like that, because it says I think there is something wrong with you.”

“There is,” Kanye grinned.

“Besides that.” Lucille smiled; Kanye could hear it in her voice. She sighed. “I don’t think anyone my age wasn’t raised to be a bigot – but I try not to be. You’re handsome, regardless of your race.”

“I’m still blind.”

“Yes. Someone will come along who doesn’t give a damn. You have too many other sterling qualities.”

“It hasn’t happened yet.”

“Give it time.”

After dinner, Kanye devoted some time to trying to get a feel for what a representative female might look like – or, more important, feel like. It wasn’t easy. Data he gathered on measurements really meant nothing. He’d never explored a female with his hands. He was unable to visualize the differences, especially since the data said things varied wildly. He wondered what Lucille would say if he asked her if he could explore her by touch. He suspected that she would decline – and even knew why. He’d received briefings on what was considered inappropriate for a caregiver to do to him – and he would be asking her for similar access. It seemed that he might have to wait until the woman Lucille seemed to think would come into his life to put in an appearance in order to satisfy his curiosity.

Saturday was a break in the schedule that the two of them operated on during the week. Kanye wasn’t due in classes, although he might have homework or papers or other projects. Lucille went out for grocery shopping and other errands while Kanye stayed home, using his adaptive devices to gather information about women and sex, interspersed with research for a term paper in World History. There was a flood of information available regarding female sexual organs that he’d ignored until he suddenly realized that there was something else out there. His interest in what Lucille might be doing to bring herself to climax led him to research sexual practices – and the scope of the subject was AMAZING! There was oral sex and anal sex, as well as vaginal sex in multiple positions – and of course masturbation. Then there were the weird strange things – fetishes of this or that type. Very little World History got done. In the process, he found out more about himself and the acts he could participate in. It became evident that masturbation was an outlet for people who had nothing else, and that sex with a partner was the preferred thing. The realization that he was missing something – something pleasurable -- made him want to experience it. But, as usual, he had no options. ‘The only woman around here is Lucille. That isn’t going to happen.’ Lucille had apparently been there and done that, but she wasn’t going to jump at the chance to fuck a black boy in his late teens – even one with working eyes! She was doing what he was doing – for the same reasons, apparently – and neither of them was going to change that, he figured.

Kanye headed off to bed later than usual, and Lucille was in Facebook and didn’t take it as her cue to head off, herself. As a result, she was still at her desk when a couple of relatively quiet sounds drifted to her ears from the direction of Kanye’s room. Habit made her reach for the receiver of the baby monitor, but she hesitated. ‘This isn’t smart,’ she mused – but she punched the switch anyway.

The sounds got louder – and rhythmic. But then Kanye grumbled, “Damn.”

Something bout that sound of frustration triggered Lucille. She got up, turning the monitor back off, and headed for Kanye’s room.

Kanye was dealing with the consequences of his increased knowledge of all things sexual. The knowledge that his tried and true method of attaining relief wasn’t the top end of sexual fulfillment was interfering with his efforts. He knew what the problem was – but that didn’t mean he could fix it. He continued his stroke, sliding his hand smoothly up and down his erect shaft, his concentration total.

Lucille paused with her hand on the doorknob. ‘Can I do this? What am I going to say if he hears me?’ Kanye’s acute hearing was almost certain to hear her turning the knob. But Kanye let out this groan of frustration and Lucille’s hand moved of its own accord, turning the knob and imparting the impetus for it to open slowly. Lucille grimaced, expecting a long creak as the door drifted open, but it was surprisingly soundless, leaving Lucille gazing upon Kanye as he feverishly jacked his long cock.

Lucille had no idea why Kanye was having trouble – but it was clear that he was. Desire led her to watch his efforts, but her sense of responsibility restrained her. As she watched, though, sympathy for him welled up. This was his only outlet, the only pleasure he got out of a difficult life. THAT was what tipped the balance. THAT was what allowed her to drift forward.

‘This SUCKS!’ went through Kanye’s head. ‘What the fuck!’ He erupted in another groan of frustration, throwing his head back and grinding his teeth. ‘Come ON!’ He was close – SOOO close! But he couldn’t get over the hump!