Chapter 68

Liz and I spent only a short time in the water – but Liz managed to learn something I already knew.

Water, particularly treated water like the pool used, washed away a lot of natural lubrication produced by the body. It also wasn’t a lot of fun when it got inside tender places and dried them out.

So we pulled loungers to the back of the pool and spent the rest of the afternoon tanning and talking.

Liz, of course, wanted to talk about the favorite topic she used to deflect her thoughts from weightier topics – sex.

“You should just take off your trunks and go for the all-over look,” she told me as she lay on her stomach with her bum pointed skyward. I doubted the two small strings around her lower hips would cause much of a line, but to be sure, she routinely moved them higher or lower.

“I’m fine,” I assured her.

“You made me feel fine in the shed,” she giggled.

“Ditto,” I replied.

“You know, I think I’ve told you most of my wild stories and I haven’t heard a single one of yours,” she commented. “What’s the wildest sex story in your repertoire?”

I shrugged.

“Oh, come on!” she pushed.

“I don’t have any wild stories,” I said.

“A gentleman,” Liz retorted. “OK, fine. Let me ask you this: You’ll do anything I want when we’re naked but you don’t ever ask me to do anything crazy. Why is that?”

“It’s a guy thing,” I replied.

“You’ll have to explain that to me,” Liz said, turning over on her side. The movement caused the nipple covering to slip again and also pulled to the side the small amount of fabric between her legs.

“Guys are pretty terrible at reading the signs,” I answered after taking a moment to put my thoughts in order. “At least I am.”

“No, you’re not!” Liz declared.

“Oh, I really am,” I said, chuckling. “I suppose I can tell when you’re interested.”

“When I’m breathing,” Liz cut in, laughing.

I smiled at her and shook my head.

“Less often than that,” I told her. “But close. I am like most guys. I’m willing to go along with anything you might want to do. But I am unwilling to risk a sure thing for anything ... let’s say call it ‘out of the ordinary.’ The last thing any guy wants to do is have his girlfriend ... or even a random hook up ... get up and get dressed because he wanted to introduce midgets and donkeys to the evening’s entertainment. So we – or at least I – tend to let you set the parameters. I think a lot of guys are like that. We’re willing to explore but we are not willing to really push boundaries for fear of being pushed out of bed completely.”

“Huh,” Liz said, nodding thoughtfully. She had returned to her previous spot. “So, hypothetically, what are some things you’re interested in exploring?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m pretty pleased with my sex life.”

“You’re banging me,” Liz said. “Of course you’re pleased.”

“There is that,” I agreed. “But you’re fun and spontaneous. I don’t really have to give much thought to keeping the relationship fresh because you’re willing to do it. I think that’s why a lot of partnerships become ... mundane. Both partners might want to try things but they’re either too scared to bring it up for fear of rejection or the partners want different things altogether. So they stick with the same tried and true things they’ve done in the past until it gets too boring to continue. Then they seek people outside of their relationship to explore taboo topics. They don’t fear rejection from someone they really have no commitment to. Does that make sense?”

“In a way,” Liz said. “Does it bother you when I want to ... get a little crazy?”

“No,” I said instantly. “I would tell you if you started to lead me somewhere I didn’t want to be.”

Liz shifted to her side again to look at me.

“The reason I told you my limitations so early was so you would know that I’m not going to reject you or look at you with disdain,” she said. “If there is something you want to do, we’ll do it.”

“It’s not really that simple,” I protested. “It comes back to the difference between men and women. You are generally in the mood for something specific. I’m just in the mood to put it inside of you. If you want to do it swinging from a rope on the ceiling, I’m OK with it. If you want rose petals on the bed, I’m OK with it. So long as I know how you want to proceed, I’m not going to lose interest. But if you’re in the mood for rose petals and I lower the trapeze ... you’re not going to get as much out of it as you’d hoped.”

Liz reached up to scratch her nose before returning to her stomach. I thought it was the perfect time to rub some lotion on her back and legs (and, of course, her cute little tushy).

“I didn’t really look at it from the guy’s point of view,” she admitted. I used the pretense of the sunscreen to massage her shoulders and back. She purred happily at the turn of events.

“It’s why communication is so important,” I told her. “You’re honest with me about what you want and how you want it. That’s a big help. As we’re around each other more, I’ll start to pick up on your signals earlier and you won’t have to tell me verbally.”

“It’s already starting to happen,” Liz said. “I was just thinking how much I’d like your hands on me and you started to rub my back. I must have given off some sort of non-verbal signal.”

“Or I just want my hands on you as much as you want them there,” I said, pinching her butt lightly.

“Or that,” she said, laughing. “So you have no wild stories in your past?”

“Not really,” I said.

“No ... car blowjobs?” Liz pushed.

“Uh,” I said.

“You do!” Liz said, smiling broadly. “Tell me about it!”

“It was ... I mean ... when you’re a kid, the places are pretty limited,” I said. “So you did what you could within those confines. There was some playing around in vehicles.”

“But no one has gone down on you while you drove?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“I will,” Liz promised. I had no doubt she intended to fulfill that statement.

“And then we’ll crash into a guardrail at 80 miles an hour and you’ll bite my thingy off,” I said, laughing. “I tend to lose concentration when you’re doing that.”

“I suck a mean dick,” Liz declared with another laugh.

“Are you saying my dick is mean?” I wondered.

“Nuh-uh,” Liz replied in her cutest voice. “Not saying that at all. I like it!”

“It likes you,” I said.

“I know,” Liz replied. “I can make him squirt.”

“Yes, you can,” I agreed.

“Have you ever had a threesome?” Liz asked to get the conversation back to my sexual past.

“No,” I replied.

“God, you really wasted your popularity in high school,” she told me. “I think you could have lined the cheerleaders up and done them all in groups of three or five or 10 if you wanted to.”

“I didn’t want to,” I said simply. “I wasn’t ... into that sort of stuff. It happened. There were parties that were just ... orgies, I guess. I heard once that Tiffany Bannister and Megan Clayburn put on a lesbian show for a select group of viewers. I was invited but...”

“You passed up a lezzy show?” Liz asked. “Wow! I thought that was every guy’s fantasy.”

“Maybe if it wasn’t those two, I might have gone,” I admitted. “I ... I had a crush on Megan when I was a freshman.”

“She would have totally done you,” Liz declared.

“Yeah, I figured out that she would do pretty much anybody that would buy her dinner or do her homework,” I said. “I ... I got with her once the summer before my senior year, after Deb and I broke up. She was home from college and we...”

“Fucked,” Liz finished.

“Pretty much,” I said. “It was OK.”

“Wow!” Liz said. “I hope that you never describe our sessions as ‘OK’.”

“I won’t describe our sessions to anybody but you,” I said. “And since I want into your panties again, I’m sure I’ll describe things in more glowing terms.”

“Who was your first time?” Liz asked. “I know it wasn’t Deb. You were her first, though.”

“Yeah, that was pretty awful,” I said.

“Really?” Liz asked, clearly interested. Despite the fact that Liz had made online contact with the woman I’d dated when she was a girl, it was pretty obvious that there was still some resentment. I wondered what Deb had said or done to piss Liz off so badly.

“It was awkward,” I said. “Virgins are ... they’re a lot of work.”

Liz burst out into laughter and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Every girl has this preconceived notion about sex,” I continued. “They completely forget that they’re putting a foreign object into a place that has never had an object in it before.”

“Oh, please,” Liz countered, “Deb Sutton had 30 guys’ fingers in her box before she was 14! Don’t tell me that nothing had gone inside that skanky twat.”

“Not a penis,” I said. “You might not have noticed this but a dick isn’t very flexible. It also didn’t help matters that I was 16 years old and not very experienced.”

“Wait!” Liz said, shifting around and sitting up beside me. “It was way before you turned 16.”

“Uh, I was there,” I said. “It was my 16th birthday. That was her present to me, I guess. It was during the holiday break. Her mom and dad both worked and we had her house to ourselves. I lied to Mom and told her we were all going sled riding but went to Deb’s house instead.”

“Huh,” Liz said again. She offered me a calculating look. “She said that you and she started to do it way before I left town. I think it was probably at the middle of our sophomore year when she told everybody in gym class that you’d ‘made her a woman.’”

“She lied if she said that,” I said. “We did the normal fumbling things for a long time. I mean, we kissed and fondled. I think it was after you left that I even saw her completely undressed for the first time. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was that summer. We had a bonfire and a cookout. We were all staying in tents and she and I spent the night together. We didn’t ... do that but we expanded our agenda a bit.”

“You gave her a lick,” Liz said, laughing at me.

“I don’t really like to talk about specific people,” I admitted.

“I know,” Liz said. “That’s sort of a game that ... uh, famous people ... play with each other. They tell each other all the other famous people they’ve slept with. I mean, you don’t really tell your friends about that sort of stuff. If word gets out that you are the type to kiss and tell, two things happen. First of all, no one wants to kiss you again. Then people that you’ve been with start to push for your work to dry up or your endorsement deals to go away. Do you remember a few years ago when a pretty famous actress left her ‘I Fucked Him’ list on a table in Hollywood?”

“No,” I said.

“Oh my God!” Liz said. “It was huge news for a month or two. Jana Jones had a list of all the guys ... and, uh, women ... she’d been with. She was a mess anyway. If she wasn’t stoned, she was drunk. If she wasn’t drunk or stoned, she was passed out. But, anyway, she was out for lunch and it fell out of her handbag. Someone found it and posted it online. It had some big names on it ... married couples and she’d done them both, that sort of thing. A couple of the names were studio execs that had married into their wealth. It was ... brutal.”

“Damn,” I said.

“Oh, yeah,” Liz replied with a nod. “She went from ‘America’s Sweetheart’ to a pariah in the blink of an eye. She’s like Emma Jenkins. She can’t get hired for shit now. I heard...”

She looked around to make sure nobody was listening. I followed her gaze, in spite of the fact that we were sitting at her gated home.

“I heard she made a sex tape and tried to shop it around,” Liz confided. “No one would buy it.”

“I would,” I said, laughing.

“You dick,” Liz replied with a laugh. “I was talking about a distributor. A few years back, Jana was ... well, she was a popular as I am. Now she’s a complete nobody. Randi Raver hates her! I mean, she hates her with a passion bordering upon insanity. And Randi likes everybody!”