Theory and Practise

"Oh yeah. Black leather obviously does something for you." She twisted round and turned to face me. "I can do black leather. Except a lot of the goth mob are veggies, so I'd have another fucking argument on my hands there."

I looked at her. "Okay, you'd look good in black leather," I agreed.

"You reckon?" She grabbed my shoulders and stared in my eyes, then looked me up and down. Then she grinned again. "Fuck, you do reckon, don't you?" She reached down and grabbed my cock, which was indeed growing again. Then, with her hand gripping just there, her black-painted fingernails just inches from my balls, she asked. "Okay, so why did you ask me out, huh? Did you reckon that some crazy goth chick would be a good choice to pop your cherry?"

"Hey, I like it when you talk dirty to me, but please don't talk American teen movie!"

"Sorry." She relaxed her grip a little, and moved her hand in a way that I found very nice. "But -- hey, what? When did I ever talk dirty to you?"

"Well, there was that time I asked you what you thought of the Bridget Jones movies..."

"Okay, I'll give you that." She leaned back slightly and looked down at my erection. "So is that what you reckoned?"

"Believe it or not, I fancied having a drink with you."

"Yeah? So what do you fancy now?"

"Got any more of those condoms?"

She nodded, extracted the things from her drawer, and then pushed me onto my back and knelt astride my thighs to fit another two. I looked at her, and the sight of her -- ponytail hanging down over her shoulder, pierced nipples, shaved pussy well on display in that position -- sent another surge of lust down to reinforce the feelings caused by her touch.

"Just a sec," she said, "hold on there."

She shuffled further up my body, still astride, and I felt her pussy stubble brush my balls. Then she raised herself up, and grabbed my cock. She frowned in concentration as she placed it carefully when it belonged, and then she even more carefully sank down, engulfing me once more.

"Ooh," was all I could say.

"Mmm," she replied, absently stroking her clitoris with a fingertip. Then she leaned forward, resting her forearms on my shoulders to pin me down, and moved her hips experimentally. "Yeah, that does work."

I moved my own hips carefully in response, and for a few minutes we kind of joked around, sometimes moving at the same time, sometimes taking it in turns, taking care to say what did or didn't feel right.

She breathed deeply. "Yeah," she said, "this isn't actually bad. You're doing okay."

"I practice a lot when I'm alone."

She frowned at me. "Woody Allen?" she challenged.

"Love and Death, " I admitted.

"Bastard!"

"Sorry." By way of apology, I concentrated on what she seemed to like, and she closed her eyes, evidently concentrating on the feeling. Eventually, she began to grind hard against me, and then to breath deeply. It seemed like a good time for me to think about something else -- anything else -- but I found she was good to watch. In time, she gave a series of little moans and squeaks, then opened her eyes.

"Yeah," she said again a little breathlessly. "Now I guess that you will want me to talk dirty to you." She suddenly adopted a really bad Deep South accent. "La, sah," she said, "ah do declare that ah fahnd your male parts to be insahted in mah per-sun..."

But something about the feeling that I'd got things right set me off, and I found myself thrusting hard and repeatedly up into her. She gave a series of grunts and gasps at that, but I assumed she'd tell me if I was being too rough -- well, okay, I wasn't thinking too clearly about anything. Soon enough, I reached my orgasm with a groan that probably scared her neighbours, then collapsed back, focusing properly on her face again.

She smirked as I got my breath back. "Enjoy that?" she asked.

I wasn't in a state to give a coherent answer.

Nina laid herself down on top of me, her nipple rings making indentations in my chest, her bleached ponytail hanging past her shoulder to tickle my neck as she breathed, my deflating cock still inside her. "That was good," I said eventually.

"Mmm," she agreed, "you know, I'm glad that you passed the test."

"Oh, that." I smiled nervously. "I have to admit -- I think that I cheated a bit there."

"What do you mean?"

"I was nervous -- I mean, I didn't want to take anything for granted, but when you dragged me back to your room like that, well, I was hoping that this was what you had in mind. So I was nervous as hell. I wasn't going to be laughing at anything much."

She looked at me, her chin digging into my chest. "So normally, you'd have laughed at the pink room?" she demanded.

"I don't know. Honest. I don't think so." What the heck had brought on this flash of stupid honesty, I wondered. It was just going to annoy her. But she wanted me to be honest, and she was so quick to spot bullshit -- it just felt safer.

She scowled at me for a long moment, then relaxed, and laid her head against my chest again. "Oh, fuck it," she said. "It worked out okay in the end, I guess."

I grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Bloody right it did," I said. "Because whatever I might have done, in another universe, where I wasn't scared that you were planning to have your evil way with me -- there's one thing you can know for sure here and now."

"What's that?"

"That I'll take you exactly as you are."

She paused for a moment, then giggled. "Yes," she said, "you will." She rolled off me and the bed, and looked at my limp, double-wrapped cock. "So, then, take me, geek boy!"

"Christ," I said, "give me a chance to get my breath back."

"Yeah, maybe I should. You probably need some dinner to get your strength up."

I hauled myself to a sitting position and carefully unpeeled the condoms. "Hey, you're right," I said, "we haven't eaten yet, have we?"

"And the least a man can do is buy a girl dinner!" Nina was back in that bouncy mood. She gathered up her knickers, socks, and t-shirt, and threw them all in a washing basket. Then she scurried off to a chest of drawers as I began slowly to get dressed myself.

"Right," she said, and turned around. She was holding something which she now pulled on -- a pair of knickers, white, with pink rosebuds on them. Then she carefully removed her nipple rings, and pulled on a bra to match the knickers.

"Where would you like to go for dinner?" I asked cautiously as I watched her turn round to a wardrobe.

"Oh, somewhere full of goths," she said, "or maybe your friends." She yanked a bright pink knee-length dress from its hanger, and threw it over her head. "Zip me up, would you?"

I obeyed, lifting her ponytail clear of the zip. I wasn't sure what to say.

"Well, come on," she said as she found a pair of white knee-length socks from somewhere, "finish getting dressed yourself. Or -- " she fixed me with a glare, "don't you want to be seen out with me?"

I sighed and found my shirt.