Chapter 16: Kitt

Monday, February 13, 2023

“You still haven’t told me your plans for Valentine’s Day,” Bethany said as we organized the supply closet of the ICU.

“You haven’t told me your plans either,” I answered.

Bethany huffed and gave me a frustrated look. “Because I don’t have any. I hate being single.”

“So, date somebody. There’s like a thousand apps to help people meet. You’re ridiculously cute. You’ll have a hundred guys to choose from in a week.”

Bethany’s cheeks went pink, and when she smiled, her dimple was more pronounced than ever. “Stop. You act like I’m some catch.”

“Well, Bart liked you in college, and you know how high his standards are.”

“A temporary lapse in judgment,” she replied as she and I hoisted a box of paper towel rolls onto a shelf. “Besides, you’re dodging my question.”

I didn’t answer right away because I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do for Valentine’s Day. I was lucky enough to have the day off, and my phone had blown up with messages from various women who wanted to spend the evening together.

I had a request from Janiqua to come over after her shift ended at 1 a.m. as she was not lucky enough to get the day off. I had a couple of other girls I’d hooked up with text me to go out for dinner. And London, who got off work at 7 p.m., also hinted she would like a rematch in tennis.

Since our first match a few weeks ago, London and I had gotten together once a week when our schedules allowed for tennis and loser-buys-dinner. Thus far, I had purchased every meal. And I didn’t mind. It was good exercise, and I had fun.

Dinner afterward usually involved a lot of bantering and then a make-out session. These sessions had grown progressively more heated from just kissing to grinding on each other through our clothing, and then during our last session, London had taken my hand and slid it up the front of her sports bra so I could finally touch her tremendous tits. While I’d palmed her globes and eventually teased her nipples, she ground her pussy nearly to climax, finally popping off of me and running to the bathroom, proclaiming her need to pee. I heard her from my living room. She definitely did not go in there and pee.

Meanwhile, every time she left, I had a raging hard-on and no one to help me with it except Pornhub and coconut oil. I wanted to fuck London so badly, but I knew if she wanted to as well, we would have done it. No other woman had made me wait like this. It was both exciting and frustrating at the same time.

“Kitt...” Bethany said, waving a hand in front of my face. “What the heck? Are you even in the same room as me?”

I blinked and pushed my thoughts of London’s breasts out of my mind. “Sorry.”

“Do you want to hang out tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I have tennis, and then we can do something afterward.”

“With London?”

“Yeah. We usually grab a bite after we play. Do you want to come too?” Having Bethany along would hurt my chances of getting into London’s pants, but I didn’t want to leave my best friend stranded on Valentine’s Day.

Bethany mulled this over for a long minute. “Tennis and dinner?”

“Do you want to play tennis?”

“Not really. Why don’t you call me when you are done eating, and we can hang out afterward.” She paused for an even longer minute before asking, “Are you and London having sex, too?”

“No,” I said immediately. My answer had come out fast. Too fast. It sounded like a lie. “We’re not. It’s just tennis.”

I wasn’t sure if she believed me. I used a box cutter to open a large package of examination gloves, and we began sorting the various boxes inside according to size, shelving them in clusters. Bethany broke the silence yet again.

“Are you being careful? All these women?”

I laughed weakly. “Bethany, I’m not a porn star. I don’t have a parade of women lining up to get into my bed.”

“It seems like it. You went from virgin to... this so fast. As your friend, it’s weird for me to see such a change in your lifestyle.”

“I don’t feel like I’m so different. I still do the same job. Still wearing the same clothes. Still hanging out with the same people.”

“We don’t hang out nearly as much as we did before you started dating Jade. And I miss that.”

“That’s fair,” I conceded, “but I’m kind of, I don’t know, sowing my oats.”

Bethany laughed, but it wasn’t full of mirth, nor was it an ironic laugh. It sounded like it came more out of surprise.

“I know. I sound dumb. But women have never liked me before—”

“Yes, they did,” she protested.

“Who?”

Bethany didn’t answer. “People. Girls in school. I knew of girls who had a crush on you.”

“Right, well, excuse me for not getting excited about that. I’m saying just because I have sex regularly now doesn’t mean I’m a whole different person.”

“Okay,” Bethany said. “I’ll drop it.”

I texted London to let her know we were on for Valentine’s Day tennis. She replied with a smiley emoji.

The tennis match that afternoon was our closest one yet. For the first time, I won the first set. London didn’t seem to like that at all, and she creamed me in our second set 6-1. But doing so left her a bit winded. Our final set went back and forth, and she finally won it 9-7. As the victor, I let her pick the dinner spot, and she chose Panda Express.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I love Panda Express, and I’m saving you at least ten dollars.”

“I think I’d rather spend it on better food.”

London took us through the drive-through and ordered for both of us. As per the norm, we took the food back to my place. Before we started eating, London asked me the strangest question.

“Have you ever heard of nyotaimori?”

“I don’t even know what you just said. What?”

“Nyotaimori. The Japanese culinary practice of eating your food off a naked woman’s body.”

“Really?” I asked.

She nodded. “That’s what it’s called. Except the woman can’t move or talk during the meal.”

“Obviously, no. I haven’t heard of it.”

London smirked wickedly at me, and it made her entire face beam. “Would you like to try it?”

If a beautiful woman offers to let a man eat his dinner off her beautiful naked body, would he ever say no? Not me. I accepted at once.

London’s beaming smile grew to supernova proportions. “Would you mind if I shower first? I’ll promise I’ll be fast.”

She practically ran out of the room. Watching her go made me think she had always wanted to try this, but this was her first time mustering up the courage to ask a guy to do it with her. The notion, if accurate, flattered me.

London returned in less than five minutes. Her hair was wet but clean. She had wrapped herself in one of my towels. Her face betrayed her nervousness and excitement. I gave her my best reassuring smile as she entered the dining area.

“Is this a weird way to see me naked for the first time?” she asked.

“It’s different but interesting,” was my response. “I can tell you’re eager to do this, and I’m truly honored you offered the opportunity to me.”

London bit her lip and nodded. “Is it okay if we talk while we do this?”

“Totally.”

London let the towel fall from her body to reveal her nude form. I stared. She had a fantastic body. Her shapely, milky white legs from years of tennis gave way to lightly flared hips encompassing a nearly bare mound over a ripe peach of a pussy. Her taut stomach boasted a very slight six-pack. And above her abs were two glorious breasts far larger than her 5’4” thin frame had any right to possess. Yet they seemed to defy gravity. She had light brown areolae with already erect nipples larger than #2 pencil erasers. Yes. I stared for a while.

London seemed pleased with my stunned reaction. Instead of saying anything, she climbed onto my small dining table and lay on it face up. Her lower legs dangled over the end, and her arms lay at her side. I grabbed our Panda orders off the counter and placed the bag next to her on the table.

“I’m going to lay out my food on your stomach,” I said.

London grinned. “I’m not supposed to move.”

“We can break the rules a little. I’m going to feed you your food.”

“Okay.”

My order was lo mien noodles with beef. She had gotten orange chicken with rice. My noodles went on her stomach. London must have taken a cold shower because her skin was quite cool. She winced a little when my hot dish spilled over her skin. Then, I placed a scoop of rice between her breasts, which had almost no sag. Atop the rice, I put several pieces of orange chicken.

Using chopsticks, I began to eat. London squirmed with the first few touches of my chopsticks but, overall, held quite still. As I savored my first bite, I looked her in the eyes and said, “Tastes even better than usual. Want to try?”

London nodded. I scooped up some rice and a piece of chicken and fed it to her. We ate like this for a while, chatting and eating with her naked form on display. At about the point when half of the food was gone, London asked me, “How does this rank among all of your other Valentine’s Days?”

I chuckled through my lo mien. “Very high. Right up there when Shirley Federman gave me a secret valentine in fourth grade.”

“Ooo. Shirley Federman?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Your first crush?”

“Third. My first was in first grade. Mrs. De Armas. Very hot. Even my six-year-old brain knew it. Who was your first crush?”

“Alex Li. He was my recess buddy all through second, third, and fourth grade. Then he moved. I was heartbroken for the entire summer. My parents bought me a cell phone so I could text him, but his parents wouldn’t let him have one, so my folks repossessed my phone phone.”

“Aw.”

“It was very sad. I didn’t get another one until high school.”

I offered London another bit of chicken, but she declined.

“I’m full.”

I leaned over and began to eat the rice from her cleavage using only my mouth. London moaned in response, so I ate more. As I ate, I teased the sides of her breasts with my tongue. Her muscles tensed the more contact I made with her magnificent mammaries. Before I knew it, the food had disappeared from her stomach and cleavage. I pulled away and saw a tiny puddle of fluid between her spread legs. Her vaginal lips glistened under the light of the cheap chandelier hanging over my small dining table.

“Can I taste you?” I asked, trying to pull my gaze from her crotch back to her face.

“I see how it is. You just want dessert.”

“I’m a sugar addict,” I told her.

She sat up enough to kiss my lips and whisper into my mouth, “Then you’re gonna love my pie.”

I got onto the table with her and leaned over to kiss her as she lay flat again. My hands went to her large breasts and squeezed them. They were full and fabulous. Bigger than Janiqua’s. The biggest I’d ever handled. She moaned into our kiss when I started mauling her tits. Once my hands had gotten their fill, I turned my attention to her areolae. I gently traced my fingernails around their perimeters until her nipples somehow stiffened even more.

Her hands pulled my face tightly to hers, and her lips parted to allow our tongues to play. My fingers found her bush trimmed quite short and, beyond that, her tight wet slit. Very tight. Too tight.

I wasn’t sure my dick, in its current state, was going to fit in her. I needed to reduce my size by quite a bit if we were going to have any significant penetration. Lately, I’d been keeping my cock around 9 inches, which Janiqua and most of my other booty calls liked.

My other hand went into my shorts and twisted my nob until my dick shrank back to a more manageable six and a half or seven inches. I slipped a finger inside London’s hot tunnel. She lifted her hips in reaction, giving me easier access to go deeper. My hands were a large glove size, and my index finger was moderately compressed inside her snatch despite how wet she was. But there was no way I would shrink my dick to the size of my finger.

Thanks to Lilly’s gift, I was more attuned now to a woman’s bodily reactions. Through my finger, I sensed minor spasms in London’s vaginal walls. She was approaching orgasm already but needed more stimulation to reach her climax. The only question was, what type of stimulation did she need? Clitoral? Mammary? Vaginal? Anal? I got off the table and leaned forward to put my mouth on her clit. My finger continued fucking her snatch, and with each withdrawal, I curled my digit upward to stimulate her G-spot.

London took over breast duties. Over the top of her short pubic hair, I could see her squeezing her breasts and pulling on her nipples. Her breathing grew heavy as she neared climax. I mashed my face into her sex, sucking hard on her clit and pistoning my digit deeper into her cunt.

“I’m gonna...” she breathed. “I’m gonna ... it’s gonna ... watch out! Oh, watch out!”

A spray of juice hit my face, soaking my skin and wetting my hair. I backed away, and London sat up, rubbing her clit furiously. Another tidal wave of squirt came out.

“Holy fuck,” I exclaimed. “That is amazing.”

After the second huge squirt, she slumped back onto the table, and a smaller, weaker pulse of liquid pumped from her pussy. I grabbed some paper towels and wiped it up.

“I’m sorry,” she said with more than a hint of embarrassment. “It doesn’t always do that.”

“Don’t be sorry. That was incredible.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

“Oh good! Because I lied. I squirt pretty much every time I cum. That’s one of the reasons I was so reluctant to do anything with you. Some people have reacted less enthusiastically than you.”