Written by Bakai (Feb 2000)
Thirty years old today. Mother will have a cake ready when I get home. She always does on my birthday. It's so depressing when I think about that. Still living with mother. Shit.
God, it's only seven thirty. Why must I always get here so early? Penelope will be here soon. Poor little mousy Penelope. She's a sad soul just like me. Eight years we've been working in this little room together, hardly speaking, doing our jobs and then going home to our separate hells. Two pathetic people with no lives other than this job. I wonder if she resents living with her sisters as much as I hate living with my mother. Why can't I ever get up the nerve to ask her out? All these years sitting so close to her. She never talks about having a boyfriend. She's so plain, so pale, so sad all the time. She'd probably feel fortunate if I asked her out. Maybe she wouldn't ridicule my little penis.
"A very good morning to you, Rodney," she says, just like every other morning, but something is very wrong. I don't look up but as she passes behind me to hang up her coat it hits me. Perfume! She's wearing perfume. She never wears perfume. Oh, no, it's happened finally, she's got a boyfriend! My suspicion is confirmed when she sits down at the table opposite me. Oh, God, she's made all these changes! There is subtle coloring on her cheeks and on her lips. Her hair has been fixed up. She's wearing something rather womanish that I've never seen before. Oh, what a fool I've been. All these years I've struggled to make a pass at her and now it's too late.
"Are you alright, Rodney?" she asks. I push away from the table and make my way to the little restroom, closing the door behind me. In the mirror I see a face that disgusts me. Thinning hair receding too quickly, colorless puffed cheeks, and those ugly thick frames on my glasses. Whatever possessed me to buy those things? I put my hands down on the developing paunch of my stomach. I press a hand into my crotch trying to feel the stub of my penis. I've nothing to offer her. It's my birthday. Why did she have to crush me on my birthday? I wipe moisture from my eyes. Now they're red. Fuck it. I go back into the room.
She looks up from the stack of reports in front of her. I see a strange look on her face as if she's trying to decide something. I sit down at the table facing her and turn on the computer, averting my eyes from hers.
"You didn't say hello, Rodney," she says.
"Good morning, Penelope," I say.
"You're alright then?" she asks.
"I'm fine," I reply, which seems to satisfy her. She picks up a pencil and begins making notations in the margins of the report in front of her. I pick up the paper she has just made scribbles on and begin entering the data into the computer, my head turned to stare into the small monitor set to the side of the narrow table where we sit, just a few feet from each other. We work like this, quietly, for about an hour. Her perfume is driving me crazy.
"Rodney?" she says, breaking the silence.
"What?" I reply, forcing myself to not look at her.
"Thank you, Penelope," I say, wishing she wouldn't talk right now.
"Would you please call me 'Penny'?" she says rather weakly.
"I'd like it if you'd call me 'Penny' from now on," she answers, her voice getting a little stronger.
I look at her, finally. "Of course. If that's what you want."
There is uncertainty in her eyes. She's struggling with something and I stare at her with a feeling of curiosity and a little trepidation of my own. This is all very unusual. "I've decided to make some changes," she says.
"Well, good luck. Changes can be good," I tell her rather stupidly, never having experienced many myself.
"I'm thirty-two, Rodney. I don't want to become a dried-up old maid," she says. "I'm more afraid of that than anything."
She seems to be trembling. It must be her new boyfriend. He's going to take her away... away from me. My heart sinks. "I wish you the best, Penelope... Penny!" I stammer.
"You'll understand if I do something foolish?" she asks.
"We've been together here for eight years," I tell her. "We're like good friends. I'll understand." My heart shrivels to the size of my testicles.
We stare at each other for a few moments and then her neck tenses with a forced swallow and she fidgets and shifts a little in her chair. I'm waiting for her to tell me she's going to quit the job when all of a sudden something touches my foot. Oh, Jesus! It's her foot, shoeless, and she's wiggling it up underneath my pant leg. I'm barely able to resist the urge to jerk my leg away. Oh, God, what is happening to me?
"Please understand me," she says, and her eyes betray a kind of nervous excitement while her foot continues up my leg past the sock onto my bare calf. Her toes are warm. Oh, Penelope, please don't do this to me, my mind shrieks. I ponder a worse-case scenerio and my face flushes as I anticipate the embarassment it would cause me. I feel my inadequate penis withdraw to hide in my pubic hairs in fear of what might be on this crazy woman's mind.
"Please tell me you understand, Rodney," she pleads, and I think she's going to cry.
"It's okay, Penny. It's okay." I'm out of my mind, I tell myself. Never have I been so afraid of something and yet want it so much.
She lowers her foot out of my pant leg and pulls herself in closer to the table. I feel her foot press between my knees, forcing my legs apart, and it comes to rest on the chair in front of my crotch, closer than any woman has ever been to my genitals. "I've never touched one," she says.
"Touched what?" I ask.
"A man's cock."
"I've never been with a man, Rodney," she says quietly.
"I'm small!" I blurt out, flushing with embarrassment, hoping to end this foolishness.
"What?" she asks.
"I'm not endowed very well," I explain uneasily. I see a look of understanding on her face.
"What does that matter?" she says, fixing me with a look of kindness, and I feel my penis begin to gain strength. She smiles kindly when I have no answer for her question. "Please open your pants for me, Rodney," she says softly.
I hesitate, and then like a man in a trance I reach down and unbuckle my belt. I undo the snap and as I unzip I feel an erection forming in spite of my misgivings. We look at each other above the table as if we were not associated with what was happening beneath it. She raises her foot off the chair and moves it aside allowing me to slip my pants and shorts down over my knees and when she returns her delicate foot to its place between my legs she presses her heel gently into my scrotum and lays her warm soft sole against my now completely engorged penis, her toes curling teasingly over the top of it.
"Oh my God, Rodney. You're wonderful!" she exclaims. Emotionally I don't quite know how to react. Physically, however, I ejaculate, sending a spurt of semen up through her toes onto my stomach. I reach down and clutch her foot hard against me, pushing into it with desperate thrusts as my semen continues to spurt out over her toes and onto my hands. And then, sadly, there is no more.
"I'm so sorry," I tell her, gasping for breath, still pressing her messy foot against my achingly sensitized and softening penis.
"Oh, Rodney. I excited you. I made you orgasm! You've made me feel sexy for the first time in my life!"
"Oh, my darling Rodney," she beams, and pulls her foot out from the grasp of my hands. She stands up and kicks off her other shoe then walks around the table and stands in front of me unbuttoning her top. "Touch my breasts, Rodney," she says, opening her blouse to reveal two small melons neatly snugged in a lacy black brassiere.
I push my chair away from the table and attempt to stand up but my ankles tangle in my pants and I tumble off the chair onto the floor. She laughs and drops to her knees to untie my shoes and remove them along with my pants and shorts. When she has them off I start again to stand up but she pushes me back and bunches up her skirt to her waist. She straddles my thighs and sits down, her ass on my knees. She takes my penis into her hands and massages it, milking out a bead of semen. Holding me in one hand she dips the middle finger of her other into the droplet and then raises it to her mouth and licks it off. "My first taste," she says, making a disgusted face. Then she laughs and moves forward to sit on my upper thighs and pushes her fingertips underneath my scrotum.
I reach out and push her brassiere up off her breasts and then cup them gently. "My first," I tell her. She closes her eyes and massages my genitals while I explore her upper body, bringing years of fantasies into the light of day. In a while my penis begins to rise in her hand and she releases it to lean forward, putting her hands against the carpet to support herself and offers a nipple to my mouth. I suckle it like a child might and then I begin to play my tongue around it, lapping and kissing on it, then nibbling on it until she makes a plaintive sound. There is much to learn.
She reaches a hand down between us and takes a firm grasp of my reconstituted penis. "Oh, God, Rodney," she moans and leans back to settle over it. I reach down underneath her skirt to see what she feels like and discover she is not wearing panties. While she holds herself up for me I run two fingers into the soft folds of her vulva and my trembling hand is immediately coated with a warm slippery liquid. I find what must be her clitoris and try to capture it between my thumb and forefinger but she jerks herself away. "Gently, please gently, Rodney," she says, and at the sound of her voice I fight to overcome the urge to ejaculate again. I slip my hand back to her vaginal opening and insert a finger into it. I am surprised by how very tight her hole is.
"Oh, please fuck me, Rodney," she cries and I remove my hand from underneath her skirt and cup her breasts once again. She grips my penis upright and guides the tip of it to the mouth of her vagina. She sits gently downward. It won't go in. Oh, damn, it won't go in!
"No, Rodney, don't be too big for me! Please! Please!" But in spite of her frantic efforts I can't enter her and she begins to cry. Her pushing against me has become painful in a weird pleasurable way and I lose self-control, pulling away from her and ejaculating once again, spurting my semen up into her labia. When she senses what is happening she thrusts a hand into the mess I'm making and furiously massages her clitoris with the tips of her fingers, breathing in short quick gasps and sobbing uncontrollably.
Oh, shit, please, Rodney! Don't leave me like this. Be kind! Please be kind!" Before I realize what is happening she moves up, takes off my glasses and straddles my head, lowering herself to my astonished face, still masturbating. Please, please, please," she moans, sounding out of her mind with need. I put my mouth up against her labia and slurp off the juices that have accumulated there, the back of her fingers beating hard against my lips. I have no idea what to do. I try to stick my tongue into her vagina but it doesn't go in very far. I reach up under her skirt and grasp her buttocks, squeezing them hard and she moans then takes her hand away and I press my tongue against her clitoris and try to mimic the movements of her fingers. She begins a series of spasms, making strange sounds that only have meaning to her. Her vulva seems to become a yield of mush and my tongue slips now easily into her hole and I stab it into her while her spasms persist and then, at last, cease. I suck at her juices until she rises up off my face and sits on my chest, her hard breathing subsiding.
I look up to see if there is anything else she might want and she smiles at me. She makes an effort to wipe the goo off my face with her hand then leans down and kisses me, her wet tongue darting into my mouth like a crazy viper, then she sits up and looks into my eyes.
"Im sorry you couldn't put it in me, " she says, halfheartedly.
"Would you like to go out with me sometime?" I ask her.
"You really want to try me again?" she answers, and then she beams a beautiful smile at me.
"Tonight?" I ask, hopefully.
I think I'll call you 'Rod'," she says, and then she crawls backward to kiss my grateful majestic manhood.
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