Drought

“What?! Never?!”

“No,” I replied. “Not never. Just not recently.”

“How long is ‘recently’?”

“I don’t know… about ten years, I suppose.”

“Ten years?!”

“Will you please stop doing that?” I asked, irritated.

“What?”

“Sounding so surprised.”

“But it is so surprising,” David said. “Very, very surprising. I can’t help sounding surprised at something that is genuinely, legitimately so, so surprising.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” I said, uncertainly. “I imagine it’s pretty common in most marriages.”

“It’s bloody not.”

“I bet it is,” I shot back a little too forcefully.

“It’s not.”

“It is,” I snapped.

“Listen: Ten years without oral sex is not normal, Jessica,” David said, lifting the duvet, and swinging his legs off the bed. “In fact, it’s positively criminal.”

“I didn’t care,” I said, weakly. “Simon had a ‘thing’ about it. So I didn’t pressure him.”

“I bet you still gave him head, though?”

“Well…”

“Knew it!”

“I didn’t mind doing it; he did,” I said, a little too sulkily. “There wasn’t a problem.”

“Rubbish,” said David, edging his naked body around the end of the bed, and towards the bathroom.

“It’s true.”

“I think the lady doth protest too much,” he replied.

“I do not.”

“Hit a nerve, have we?”

“No,” I said, testily. “We have not.”

“Have too,” he said, just before he closed the door.

“It’s over-rated, anyway,” I said. I couldn’t see my reflection, but I was pretty sure I was pouting like a moody teenager.

The door suddenly swung back open.

“Pardon?”

“I said, it’s over-rated,” I repeated.

I inched my way upright, sitting against the headboard, arms folded. The early-morning sunlight kissed my face, making me squint. Which probably only added to my sullen expression.

“'Oral sex is over-rated', says the lady whose last experience of the said act was around the time the very first iPhone was launched.”

“I thought you needed to go to toilet?”

“I do. And I am,” David said, closing the door. Before opening it once more, and saying, “This conversation will be continued, young lady.” The door closed again.

Okay, okay… David had a point. Of course he did.

For ten years I’d happily sucked the cock of my ungrateful ex-husband, while he steadfastly refused to reciprocate. It made him ‘queasy’ apparently. It wasn’t cited in the divorce petition, but maybe it should’ve been.

“It’s not over-rated,” David said, flinging the toilet door open theatrically.

In direct contrast to my dour former spouse, David did a lot of things theatrically. Which was probably unsurprising given that he worked in the theatre.

He was a director, but - again unlike my robotic ex-husband - had little in the way of ambition. Had Simon been a director, he would’ve aspired to be in charge of the National Theatre at the age of forty. David had no such desire. If success came his way, then that was all well and good. In the meantime he was perfectly happy staging Shakespeare with prison inmates and excluded teenagers.

It was during one of his workshops that we’d first met. I’m assistant head at a Pupil Referral Unit. Given that our kids have been excluded from at least two schools each, in most cases due to violence, it can feel more like a prison than a school at times. It’s certainly not the place where - normally - I’d give a workshop on ‘Macbeth’ ran by a shaggy-haired, over-enthusiastic beanpole much chance of success.

However, he’d done it - he’d actually pulled it off.

By the end of the afternoon, the group of normally pathologically aggressive teenagers were eating out of the palm of his hand, having been won over by his patience and energy.

And compassion - he had lots of compassion.

He’d believed in the kids, gently encouraging them. Every time their strong Liverpudlian accents had stumbled over the dense poetry, he was at their side, not highlighting their mistakes, but praising their effort. For children who had only known criticism and chastisement, his never-ending supply of positivity was a blessed luxury they’d had very, very little of.

He’d asked me out for a drink seconds after the pupils had been dismissed. “Seize the moment,” he’d said. Without hesitation, I’d said, “Yes.” I wasn’t normally an impulsive person, but David’s energy, his thirst of life, for embracing opportunity, had rubbed off on me.

We’d been together for two months now. And, this morning’s disagreement aside, it had been wonderful. It had been full of joy, of laughter… and more sex than I’d had in the previous decade. It was everything my marriage had not been. Simon's motto in life had been 'safety first' - a rule he applied to everything, including in the bedroom. He was the epitome of 'vanilla.'

But everything was different with David.

Everything was joyful. Fun. This was what 'love' felt like.

And the sex was a huge added bonus.

Well, apart for the oral part, that is…

The only problem was how hard it was to grab quality time together: We both had jobs; lived in different towns - admittedly only an hour apart, but still; we both had children from previous marriages…

But, every other weekend, my two daughters went to stay with Simon. These alternate weekends were ‘my time.’ They were a rarity. And I didn’t want to waste this one by talking about oral sex.

“As I said, it’s over-rated,” I said, forcefully, hoping my tone would bring this conversation to an end. “Now, can we please…?”

“You’ve got an issue with it.”

“Have not.”

“I get it. You haven’t had any for a very long time. It’s become a ‘thing.’”

“No. That’s not true,” I replied, weakly.

“Aversion therapy.”

“What?”

“You cure a phobia by being exposed to it,” he said. “So, lie down.”

“Pardon?”

“I said, lie down."

“I’m not in the mood for…”

“Just lie down, Jessica,” he said firmly.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to show you what you’ve been missing.”

A hot flush of excitement flooded my body.

“What?” I stammered.

“I’m not only to cure you of your fear, I’m also going to show you that oral sex is very far from being over-rated.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was joking. Hoping he wasn’t.

“Are you being serious?” I said, slowly.

“Deadly.”

“And how are you going to pull off this magic trick?” I asked, mockingly. “Are you some kind of expert?”

“Yes,” he said, plainly. “Actually, I am.”

“And how did you…?”

“I believe in reciprocity,” he said, walking around to the bedside table on ‘his’ side of the bed, and picking up the TV remote control. His fingers danced across the keypad, and the television mounted on the wall ahead of us snapped into life.

“Men always expect oral sex,” he said, looking down at the remote in his hand. The television screen briefly went black, before suddenly being filled by the home page of the world’s most popular search engine.

“Internet-ready TV’s - what a world we live in. Let’s just hope safe search isn’t enabled,” he said, tapping away again. “I’d have no clue how to work around that.”

I watched as the large rectangle in the middle of the screen was filled with the name of the world’s most popular porn website

“There we go,” David said, clicking on the link.

Seconds later, my TV screen was filled with a number of small boxes, each denoting a particular sexual predilection. I’d like to say I was shocked by the sudden appearance of porn in my bedroom on a Saturday morning. But I wasn’t.

I felt the faint stirrings of arousal awaken deep inside of me.

“As men expect oral sex, it’s only fair we should not only repay in kind, but hone our skills,” David said, highlighting the box titled ‘Oral’, and pressing enter. Methodically, he began working his way through the thousands of thumbnails, looking for… actually, I’ve no idea what he looking for, exactly.

“It’s hypocritical to complain about a bad blow-job, if we can’t adequately eat a woman’s pussy… Ah, this looks like it’ll do the job.”

He’d selected a video posted by ‘ShampooGirl’, called - unsurprisingly - ‘Feasting on Me.’ He pressed enter, and, after buffering for a few seconds, the screen was filled with the image of a bedroom. Its occupiers had selected a far darker colour scheme than I had for my light, and airy room, but, in terms of layout, and dimensions, the two bedrooms were similar.

Another thing they both had in common was a naked woman lying in the room’s bed.

Oh, and they both had a naked man standing at the foot of the bed.

“Thus, in the pursuit of fairness,” David said, dropping the remote on the floor. “I’ve become quite adept.”

“That’s very noble of you.”

“Isn’t it just?” he replied, smirking. “Now lie down.”

My eyes flicked back to the screen.

“Am I supposed to watch the porn?” I asked.

“Entirely up to you. It’s more of a mood-thing, really; setting the tone. To be perfectly honest, I’m hoping that your mind will be distracted by something else in a few minutes,” he said. “Now lie down.”

I watched as the man in the video slowly climbed onto the bed. Lying down, by the woman’s feet, he began to delicately kiss her ankles. Although David had lowered the volume, I could still clearly her approvingly groan.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It could be more of a distraction…”

“Jessica,” David said, firmly. “Stop trying to kill time. And lie down”

I looked at him.

"I'm scared," I finally said. "I don't know why; it's not as if I don't want you... well, down there. I do. It's just..."

"I know," he said, softly. "I know. But I'll be gentle. There's no need to worry."

The woman on my TV fell quiet, as the man temporarily stopped kissing her to adjust his position. Silence descended in my bedroom, punctuated only by the faint chiming of the church bells in the distance.

And the beating of my heart.

I was nervous. I hadn't done this for years.

But I wanted it. God, did I want it.

And I wanted David, my kind, funny, soul-mate to do it.

"Okay," I finally said.

"Lie down," he repeated, slowly.

Slowly, I slid down the pillow, and lay flat.

"Could you pass me a pillow?" David asked, moving around the bed, towards 'my side.' He stopped level with my stomach.

"Why? Tired already?"

"It's not for me," he replied. "Pillow, please."

I reached across, and lifted the pillow David had been laying his head on just ten minutes ago. Playfully, I threw it at him.

"Lift your bottom up," he said.

"Why...?

"It's going to be a lot more enjoyable for you if you don't question everything I say, Jessica," he said.

"I understand that. I just want to know..."

"It'll make your G-spot easier for me to access. It'll also give you... leverage to move yourself against me," he said calmly. "So, please - just raise that beautiful arse of yours in the air."

I lifted my behind, and David slid the pillow under me.

"And down," he said. He was moving again, this time towards the foot of the bed.

I winced as the cold fabric of the pillow touched the small of my back.

"Should I take off my panties?" I asked, meekly.

"No," David replied. "Not yet."

"But..."

"Trust me."

"Okay," I said.

I felt the bed lower as he climbed back onto it. Once more, the woman’s satisfied groans echoed around the room…

I felt the gossamer touch of David’s fingertips on my ankles. Slowly, he applied an ounce more pressure. I instinctively knew what he wanted me to do.

I spread my legs.

"Thank you," he said.

Remaining upright, David inched forward on his knees, towards me. His fingertips leisurely traversed the length of my bare legs as he moved himself closer. He came to a stop at the apex of the 'V' my open legs had made, his knees nestling against the soft flesh of my upper thighs, his fingertips resting on the tops of my thighs.

“There's a reason why so many men get cunnilingus wrong," he said, slowly. His voice was low, almost hypnotic. "They don't appreciate the most fundamental difference between the two genders."

"Which is?" I whispered.

"Men get aroused far more quickly than women," he said. I could feel his fingertips slowly circling around my hip bones. "Because of that, we make a bee-line for the prize. Because we're turned on instantly, we assume the same of you. We don't understand that our partner needs to be warmed-up, be tantalized."

Gracefully, he bent over, and started to kiss my tummy. As he did, his fingers moved inwards, stroking the tops of my thighs. I closed my eyes, savouring his touch. I exhaled a contented murmur, in perfect synchronicity with my digital counterpart.

Every time his lips touched me, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

"What would you like me to do?" he asked.

"I... I don't know..." I stammered. "Whatever you..."

"Tell me," he said, between kisses. "Go on - try."

"I'd like you touch me," I said.

"And? What else?"

"I want you to..."

I gasped as he kissed my belly button.

"Go on."

"I want you to make me want it so bad that I'm..."

"Yes?"

"I want you to make me want it so bad that I'm dripping wet," I said without thinking.

He continued to move downwards. Towards my pussy.

I could feel his hot breath through the fabric of my moist underwear, teasing my clit.

"And I don't want you to give it to me until I beg... until I tell you."

"Then that's what I'm going to do," he said, quietly. "I'm going to make you beg. But..."

"What?"

"You have to talk to me," he replied. "If I'm being too rough, or being too gently, tell me. You're in charge."

"Oh, I like that," I said, cheekily.

"Good. Is this alright?" he asked, gently massaging my inner thighs, whilst also continuing to kiss the outside of my panties.

"Oh, God - yes!"

He kissed me once more; the layer of fabric between it and his mouth gently grinding against my clit. The slight friction made me shudder.

Then, the kissing stopped; I could feel him softly sucking at my quim through my panties. Once more, the grinding of the fabric against me felt heavenly. I could feel the dampness of my underwear, but was no longer sure whether the stickiness was a result of my own juices, or David's lapping tongue. To be honest, I no longer cared.

"Do you want me...?"

"Don't stop what you're doing," I said, breathlessly.

Without complaint, he resumed licking, sucking, kissing my clit through my sodden underwear. He was being true to his word; I was in charge.

However, he'd aroused me too much. After just a few blissful seconds, I knew I didn't want a barrier any longer between my womanhood, and his roaming tongue. I wanted to feel it on me.

"Take them off," I ordered. "Slowly."

Languidly, David sat up, gently raking his fingertips against my hips as he did. Maintaining contact, he moved his hands towards the frilly waistband of my thong. Taking hold of the band between his thumbs and forefinger, he started to pull. I gently lifted my backside off the pillow, lowering it once the fabric had passed over my buttocks.

A thick, juicy sliver of excitement washed over me as my underwear, and his fingers, caressed my thighs, and then calves.

"Someone is very, very wet," David said, wickedly, holding my sodden panties in one hand.

"Someone made me very, very wet," I replied. "Now, be a good boy, and get that filthy mouth to work on my thighs."

"Yes, boss," he said, leaning forward, his head arrowing in towards the tops of my legs.

I felt his large hands softly wrap themselves around the outside of my thighs, wile his lips began caress the soft, warm inner flesh. Another jolt of electricity consumed me.

Anticipation grew inside of me as his lips moved upwards, towards my pubic area.

"What are you waiting...?"

I was silenced by his lips kissing the entrance to my vagina.

"That's... that's...." I was panting, and couldn't get the word out. My tongue felt huge in my mouth. My brain was becoming too light-headed, and woozy to verbalize.

Without me realising, David had slid one of his hands under the pillow. I whimpered again as I felt a tip of his finger rest against my perineum. With ever-increasing pressure, he began to move his finger in small circle, every so often flirting with the outer rim of my anus.

Meanwhile, his devilishly mouth was slowly moving upwards... Nibbling... Kissing...

I released a huge, satisfied sigh as - finally - kissed my clitoris. The woman’s disemboweled groans mingled with mine.

However, the cheeky bastard was teasing me! His tongue circled around my clit... occasionally pausing to suck on my clitoral hood.

Around and around he went... again... again...

Reaching down, I grabbed a handful of his hair. Holding tight, I pulled his head in closer, furiously grinding my clit against his tongue.

"Do it," I said, dizzily. "Now."

His tongue flicked my clit, before settling there, slowly nibbling, and sucking on the nib.

My heart-rate was quickly increasing in intensity every beautiful time his tongue touched me.

Without thinking, I grabbed hold of his hair more tightly, and began grinding against his mouth.

"Put a finger in me," I said. "Now."

Instantly, I felt his index finger enter my vagina with a soft, sucking noise. Even that turned me on!

"Two - put another finger inside me," I commanded.

Again, he responded. I was about to reach down, to direct his towards my G-spot, only to find he was already there.

"Keep your fingers there."

While the fingers on one hand flirted with my arse, the digits on his other hand fingers played against my G-spot, and his tongue continued to lick at my clit.

However, I didn't need to tell David what to do now: Automatically, he seemed to sense I was ready...

He increased his intensity.

His finger pushed inside me; his tongue licked, and lapped more forcefully, more quickly…

“Don’t stop…. keep going…. like that,” I panted.

My breathing was halting…

It was like I was a roller-coaster. And with each movement of his tongue, with each motion of his fingers, the car was moving upwards.

Higher, and higher...

Closer, and closer to the apex of the ride...

I closed my eyes…

The muscles in my legs, and my stomach tightened. Taut.

My breath caught in my throat...

Finally, I reached the hill of the ride...

One last time, I grabbed hold of head, pushing his lips firmly onto mine...

As the car hurtled downwards, I screamed, and my body rippled with a million explosions. My whole body shook with pleasure.

A pleasure that had been pent up for a decade.

In perfect unison, the woman on the TV gave free reign to her rapture. Her groans mixed with mine, a symphony of sexual satisfaction.

I let go of David’s head, and lifted my tired arms above my head. One last convulsion rocked me. I felt the muscles in my thighs, and calves judder. A small giggle escaped from my mouth.

"So," David said, climbing over my leg, and inching up the bed. Resting his head against the headboard, he turned and looked at me, smiling. "Still think it's over-rated?"

I turned to stare back him. His joyful, cheeky face was streaked with my juices.

God, I loved him.

Smiling, I reached over, and, gave him my answer with a kiss.

I looked up, and saw my digital counterpart respond in the exact same way, bestowing a single, loving kiss to her partner’s lips.

Slowly, she then sat up, and edged her way to the foot of the bed. She bent over him, and gently, began to kiss the man’s thighs.

“Reciprocation” I said.

“Pardon?” David asked.

I raised my body upright, and shimmied to the end of the bed. Bending over him, I started kissing David’s thighs.

“It’s only fair,” I said. “Oh, and by the way…”

“Yes?”

“Turns out I was wrong,” I said, between kisses.

Oral sex was not over-rated.

As my lips continued exploring my beautiful partner, his groans mingled with that of the man on the screen.

The perfect soundtrack for this most perfect of Saturdays.

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