Marie, Mary, and Maria

I hate bananas. I digress already. Such a hand holding such a banana which had been kissed and then eaten in one way or another is another story. Let’s delve deeper and spread out into our story, my story of Marie, the French teacher, Mary the concierge (resident caretaker), and Maria the pornstar. You’ll understand that I only met two of the three, but the one that I didn’t still rocks my mind and everything else every other day.

I met Marie almost as soon as I had moved into my new apartment in a rather short high-rise: only 12 floors. I gather that they were afraid to add a 13th one. To think that some buildings skip the number 13 altogether. One rides the elevator(s) from the 12th to the 14th with no stop in between, since the 13th has been displaced forward, becoming the 14th. So, whoever lives on the 14th actually lives on the 13th, but as long as the number 13 doesn’t appear anywhere, it’s fine. Poppycock! I digressed again. I’m sorry. But you’ll have to bear and bare with me. Back to Marie.

Ah, Marie! How do I, do you justice? No justice can do you, unless it’s the law or yours truly. Marie was a flower in bloom, a redhead extraordinaire. Everything about her was reddish, rosy, ruddy. She was so pleased when I asked her out that a glint of tears came into sight in her arresting eyes. But those, I later learned, were crocodile glints, which I call, life is a bitch and a bastard.

She asked me to suck her breasts on our second date, having giggled too much on the first to be able to solicit it then. I could not refuse her request given the illustrious spectacle being offered to me. Suffice it to say that our bond became breast-based, her nipples acting like targets for sight, touch, taste, and smell, though I could argue that I was able to hear them as well, but it would sound somewhat metaphysical. It is much easier to recognize that I heard her, not her breasts, but you could grant me though that the act of copulation, however physical it may be, often appears to possess some incorporeal element to it. Not at the beginning, but surely from the middle — whenever that is — to the very end. Moreover, the screams; silent, muffled, or audible; are simply cries at the reappearance of reality. I digressed again. What can I say? I like to ruminate. But the pussy is the best chew.

As I was saying (I said it frequently), Ah, Marie ; j’adore tes seins (Ah, Marie; I adore your breasts).

“I know. Everybody loves my breasts. What do you adore about them?”

Everything. You name it.

“Are you being clever?”

No; just naughty!

“I like naughty.”

I was hoping that you’d love it.

“You are being clever, and funny.”

Ah, Marie; what wouldn’t I do to see the rest of you!

“Go ahead; undress me! Or, do you prefer that I do it, slowly.”

You’re driving a hard bargain. Why don’t you take off your pants very quickly and I’ll take care of your panties!

“What a naughty boy!”

I never said that I wasn’t naughty too. In fact, I’m very naughty.

“How naughty?”

I’ll be as naughty as you want me to be, but I don’t do pain or suffering. Life allocates enough of that.

“The man of my dreams.”

Are you sure that you teach French?

“Oui, pourquoi ?” (Yes, why?)

Because French isn’t about dreams. English seems to be. Because I can’t be anyone’s dream. I’m a nightmare. A childish nightmare, but still a nightmare.

“Come on, Maurice; it’s time to fuck!” she said and took off her pants.

She was barefoot. Both feet. I kissed her, gave a warm hello-again to her breasts (tits always make me think of birds), and dropped down to my knees to peel off her red panties with my teeth and a finger. I’ll let you guess which finger. I should have fainted but I didn’t. Pussy²! Yes; pussy-squared! But not in size; in beauty. I could have cried but I didn’t. It looked perfect. A 10! First, I kissed it. I didn’t dare touch such perfection with my hands. To think that perfection would later be pestered by my penis. I’m jumping the gun. Am I? After kissing her pussy numerous times, I licked and tasted it, breathing that pussy air and mist into my lungs as if it could produce an optimal state of well-being. It did. Perfection. Wait; there’s more! But you knew it. I inserted my tongue into that perfection I now call pussy and seized ever so gently her so-called lips. Those were the doors to heaven. Her pussy tasted like nothing else. It was a new taste. I called it Marie Oui (Marie Yes). Let’s see. Think of your favourite food, unless it’s pussy and you can’t think! Her pussy tasted better. I couldn’t stop eating it, until she orgasmed, screaming similarly to a Japanese pornstar I had heard more than a few times before.

“Do you want a blowjob?” she asked after a minute or so.

Many men, maybe most, hate that question. I rather like it, since you know right away that your penis is average, maybe a little above it. Who knows! No! I would like to penetrate your perfection, I replied.

“Ma chatte ?” (My pussy?)

Oui ; ta perfection ! (Yes; your perfection!)

“Everyone loves my pussy. It’s very lovable. I know.”

Now, I want it even more. I lied.

“It’s all yours. Happy birthday!”

It’s not my birthday but I know what you mean. There’s no way to describe to you what I felt. Believe me, I tried to relate it many times! I called it the Marie feeling. I suppose that every woman gives such a feeling, but I don’t think that men do, except when their penis is prodigious and the woman has no choice but to blow it. My penis quit first. I wanted to stay in her pussy forever, but my penis couldn’t take it anymore, needing to recuperate as if it had run a marathon. I must add that her pussy was in charge in my mind, and the mind can run a marathon every minute.

Then came her ass, but I was too beat to tackle it thoroughly. But believe me, it was spectacular. No! Stunning! I was stunned. Tired and stunned. So, I’ll stop here. It actually stopped a few weeks later when she left to visit her parents and never came back. Her ex’s penis must have been prodigious, or one of those penises that actually gives a feeling.

While on the diminutive side, Mary offered much to compensate for her shortcoming. Sensibly and for all senses, she was Woman. The curves were all at the right places, with nippy-erect nipples and bouncy buttocks to brush against before beginning to bone. Charm and grace were also part of the parcel, as were her skills. Who would not initiate or ride the wild thing with this beautiful brunette, perhaps the mold for all brunettes!

I had met Marie in one of the two elevators of my small high-rise. Mary, I met in the lobby when I was getting my mail. Living in a building has its perks. She was dusting the area when I saw her. Little Maurice was quivering from excitement.

“Are you new in the building?” she asked smilingly.

Yes, and I’m happy to be here now that I know that you’re here too.

“Thank you! Aren’t you the flatterer!”

Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You’re a doll if ever there was one and you’re real.

“Oh, I’m real alright. Do you want to make sure?”

I took one of her hands — I think that it was the right one — and kissed it for a few seconds. I already knew that you’re real but just needed to feel your skin on my lips, I replied.

“There’s so much more skin to discover,” she whispered since a woman and her two kids had just entered our area of discovery.

I didn’t even notice them, mesmerized by Mary. I live on the first apartment of the 7th floor, I whispered back. You’re welcome anytime, day or night, I added.

“I can come up at the end of my shift, but I’ll need to freshen up.”

I’ll have a bath ready for you. Do you like peppermint? A few drops of peppermint extract make the water even more heavenly.

“Yes! That’ll be lovely. I’m not sure though if you’re being sweet or kinky.”

Aren’t they one and the same? As far as I know, one can’t be kinky with salt.

“Touché. I like you. I like you a lot.”

I obviously like you too and even more than a lot.

“I can see that,” she replied smilingly while glancing at my extending erection.

Little Maurice usually has a mind of its own but now we’re surely synced.

“I can’t wait to finish work,” she whispered though no one else was in proximity.

We’ll wait for you, little Maurice and I, or is it me and little Maurice.

“I hope it’s not too little.”

Compared to me, it’s little; compared to you, it’s not.

“Touché again. I really like you.”

I’ll do my best to make you love me. She smiled, almost tittering, when I kissed her au revoir (see you soon). The maid had luckily cleaned the apartment a couple of days earlier, so it was pretty spotless. Mary would be up in less than three hours, so time was being kind. I cooked a little, freshened up, and prepared her bath, dropping a few beads of peppermint into the hot water. My bathroom smelled like a giant pot of herbal tea. I had some time left to read a sexy story in Sexual Tendencies before living one for real. Life can be good if you’re lucky.

I was at the door before she even knocked on it. I had heard the elevator sighing with relief, as if eager to be empty again. To think that elevators are mostly empty, unless the building has 40 floors, but then there are at least four of them, so the premise remains the same. I digressed. What did you expect? Mary was on her way. There’s something that I forgot to mention before. Nothing is forgotten in a story if it appears somewhere. Yeah! Mary looked like another pornstar whom I was fond of. Who wouldn’t? But that’s another story.

I kissed her as soon as she stepped in.

“It smells of peppermint even here. I love that smell.”

Peppermint extract is also a medication for lung and stomach issues, except that physicians don’t prescribe it since they weren’t taught that it was. “Real” medications are better suited for droves, herds, and even flocks of people.

I knew that you would, I replied. Let’s see how you like it in the water.

“Do you want to join me?” she asked reddening.

Consider me underneath you, over you, and by your side, though the latter may be a little tight. Can I undress you?

“Be my guest!”

I’ll be your lover instead, I replied, removing her shirt, her pants, her bra, her panties, and her socks. She had removed her shoes as soon as she had come in. I took my time with her bra and almost forgot myself with her panties. I helped her into the water, which became just right in terms of temperature and amount when I stepped in. I sat her on me. I could swear that little Maurice was celebrating in its little head. She wiggled her ass against it, making little Maurice discharge some froth. I made love to her right there. I could have said fucked but it felt more like love. We ate something, I don’t remember what, before going to bed. We made love again, and again. She left a few hours later but not before promising to return the next day at the same time after work.

I still see her every day and we’re planning to move in together. I still prefer a one-bedroom apartment given that she’ll be always very close, though an extra den would help, or a much bigger walk-in closet.

Maria! How do I desire thee? Let me imagine the ways. By air, by sea (only if you’re in the boat with me), by pure pining, by great glee, by masturbation marathons, by Jove if it wasn’t too far! Japan may remind one of World War II, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and maybe Sony; me it also reminds of Maria. O Maria! Let thy name be uttered on my dying lips! There’s no point in describing Maria since she’s everything you can imagine and more.

Sex will never be the same. Marie, Mary, and Maria have severed the link between the S and the EX, leaving just a big, prodigious S, which also stands for suffering. “Sufferin’ succotach!” What does an average penis need to do to get some sustenance nowadays? Watch Maria in all her glories! Even if a Mary is by one’s side (and underneath and above)? Hell, yes!