An Aggressive Learning Strategy

It was awkward to talk this way, with his body twisted thus, but he wasn't quite ready to simply turn about. She peered around his side and they eyed one another past his bicep. Jeff finally managed to get some words out: "Zo... I love having you in here with me, but don't you think just maybe it really isn't a good idea? What about your parents, for god's sake?"

She squeezed again, thoroughly enjoying his discomfiture. "God's sake has nothing to do with the present case! Or with any other case, so far as I can see! What rational evidence is there for the actual existence of any such thing as god? Or gods, plural? NONE! And Doctor J, as I so pointedly and clearly told you earlier, my MaMá and PaPá are gone to a bridge tournament. They are very good players and each has many Masters Points. If they do not win they will at least stay through the final rubber to see who does, and they will not be home before midnight no matter what."

"On such nights I clearly no longer require a baby-sitter, and it becomes my responsibility to feed myself. Hence the pizza money. And for your information, I can cook something other than boiled eggs, you know! Even a good lamb curry hot!"

Jeff swallowed: suddenly, things were exquisitely clear, all fog and mist evaporated. He could be male-slow with the worst of his gender, but not infinitely so!

Quandary - what to do, what to do?

Her official rationale for their situation poured out: "You and I are just good friends sharing a shower - very green-ecological, and you are after all a real ecologist. I need a shower, too, although not nearly as much as you, so what could be more sensible? It is not like we are dating or doing anything romantical. Nor have you forced me to do this, either. And, Doctor J, my parents will never know about this event unless YOU tell them, for I most certainly shall not do so. Will you?"

He shook his head. No, he certainly would not!

She carried on, with occasional deep breaths to recharge: "As to the goodness or not of this idea, well, au contrair, m'sieur le Docteur J, I think it is a FINE idea, a magnificent one even! If I did not think so then I would not be here, n'cest pas raisonable? You are very likely to need some help. Men can do the stupidest things sometimes - for instance, without proper supervision you might wash that beautiful hair of yours with hand-soap. Or even if you used shampoo, would you know enough to put the crème rinse on afterwards instead of before? Or even to put it on at all? I am simply here to help! And to see that you properly conserve natural resources, of course. In keeping with your profession."

She grinned, almost giggled. "I am being a good Scout! Besides all THAT, I have an ulterior motive." She paused.

He asked, "Which is...?"

"I have never been naked with a man in the shower - or naked with a man anywhere else, for that matter. And I have always wanted to see you naked..." She made this revelation without anticipating it, and as it emerged her pulse rate jumped. She felt his gratifying whole-body tightening: that HAD to be altogether positive!

Fearing to lose momentum, she sped onwards: "... so this adventure should satisfy my curiosity on both topics at once."

He said nothing: she re-started: "One stone, two birds. Metaphorical birds, of course. Efficiency in casting stones, a fine thing, no?! You must know THIS, my good Doctor - my parents insist that any intelligent person can analyze her own needs for information or education, and that she should then actively seek it out, not wait for the universe to decide to hand it to her on a platter, because that might never happen at all and what would one do then, in the meantime, during all that waiting?'

"They call it aggressive learning and they expect me to behave that way - THEY certainly claim that they did so themselves, else they would not be where they are professionally. So I am applying some of THEIR OWN principles here - which means, I believe, that logically this situation is entirely their own fault, were they to choose to be upset over it. But that would require them being told, and apparently that is not going to happen. Efficient and aggressive learning! Is that okay?"

Pausing to allow his response, Zohra grinned, reached past him with a free hand, raised the temperature to where Jeff flinched slightly. "Brrr! You have it far too cold, the water! I told you, women like their water hotter than do men. If you are to have my company in here, then you will just have to put up with it, so there! After all, this is MY shower and therefore it is I who make the local rules!"

Jeff's throat was still mis-behaving. "Um" he sputtered: "That all makes good sense, I guess. At least, it's hard to argue with it." He grinned at her: "Certainly your being here in the shower with me is a bit aggressive! No complaints, you understand... none whatever. Just a great deal of surprise. A very, VERY pleasant surprise." He paused, grinned again: "SUPER fine with me, both the superheated water and having you in here naked beside me. Actually, I would choose you naked over the hot water any day!"

He advanced a conversational toe, testing. "However, I suspect that under cold water your nipples would be even more interesting than they are now!"

She giggled, pressed her boobs even more firmly against his back and writhed slowly, saying "Probably so! Cold water sometimes makes them so hard they hurt! But they feel nice against your skin." She paused her slithering and was silent for a moment, hugging him to her. Then she whispered "You can look at them if you wish. I would not mind. In fact, I should rather like that! But you must turn around to do so! I will happily help you rotate about your vertical axis as needed if you wish, but I cannot do so if you are unwilling. Not with all your muscles!"

A good response, so he continued more boldly, still looking at her over his shoulder, "I've always wondered what YOU look like in the nude, too, Lady Zo - and I suspect from what I've seen and felt so far that reality far surpasses my imagination..."

She simpered at him, pleased by the praise and the reciprocal revelation (finally!) that yes, he was actually attracted to her! Yea verily, tangible Progress!

"But don't be surprised at how my body reacts... some of its behavior is completely beyond my conscious control."

She knew enough to understand, and hoped for a thorough demonstration!

He finally turned towards her: she stepped back half a pace, her eyes widened as they dropped to his now tool-steel cock. It was about the same diameter as her wrist, the tip bouncing slightly with his pulse. He stood stock-still and studied her as she inspected him. Her quarter-cup breasts were utterly ignorant of gravity. Genuinely conical, they stood up no more than a full inch above the plain of her chest. Her ribs slid about beneath her taut deep-chocolate skin as she breathed. She had the start of a gymnast's muscular shoulders and legs, visible abs, and a deep navel that somehow, like her eyes, contrived to be even darker than the surround.

The driving spray coated her skin, ran off in rivulets from the points of her breasts, with their extraordinarily sexy inflated areolas and tiny erect nipples, both features extra dark, the color of French-roast coffee beans. An unusually prominent mons, supporting the sparsest little grove of pubic hair, none visible on what the angle allowed him to see of her lips, hair still so fine and soft and dark that the water plastered it down entirely, made it almost disappear against her skin. She might as well have been shaved completely.

The most incredible surge of pure lust flooded his belly. Remotely, Zohra felt it, didn't fully understand, wasn't sure whether to be hugely flattered or somewhat frightened - certainly there was a strong sense of playing with fire. "Oh."

She gave his crotch a long, focused stare.

"My goodness!"

The stare continued. She tried for nonchalance: "You do have a rather big cock, Doctor J! The thing is positively huge!"

She used 'cock' to display her worldliness, but it tripped heavily from her tongue, the old Mark Twain problem of having the words but not carrying the tune. She, too, felt the awkwardness: "Be calm!" she told herself. She was obliged to carry on: "And you have no HAIR, no pubic hair. You must shave!"

What, she wondered, would an experienced woman do at this juncture? Coolness was the byword, no fluster allowed. 'Self control is a virtue' - some part of her brain was busy calling up parental lessons! But she knew that self control could take various forms, positive or negative, action taken as well as action restrained: she shook herself mentally, chose her path and words carefully, exercising control.

She looked up at him again and asked, boldly, "May I touch it? I mean, touch your cock, of course. Please?" She was pleased with herself when 'cock' came out much more properly at this second usage.

Jeff sighed, decided to enjoy the situation since it was not of his own making - although he did think, 'Brother! THAT excuse wouldn't go over well in court, would it?' He nodded his permission: in for a nickel, in for the whole nine yards, but it was her show, not his. Nobody, himself most especially, was going to convict him of being the prime mover here!

She trailed fingertips down the upper curve of his erection, clasped the shaft shyly in her hand: stretching around its circumference at mid-length, only the very tips of her middle finger and thumb could touch. She studied it, discovered the looseness of the shaft-skin, slid it about, noted the appreciative male-body-tremors that resulted.

He made the rod jump in her hand and she started, then giggled. "It is very pretty, this cock of yours. It feels like a separate animal, almost! I like the color, and the way I can actually see the big pink tip. And it is quite nifty, how your loose foreskin can cover and uncover the whole glans at the end."

Per her plan, he was impressed again at her proper use of the correct terminology.

She demonstrated her discovery several times in rapid succession, watching his face closely and liking his reaction immensely.

"But he has only one eye! No binocular vision to guide him!"

She squeezed, noted how Jeff's reactions differed between stroking and squeezing, filed away the data. "And such a thing, this device, this apparatus! - this is supposed to go up inside my belly?"

He gave her one of his patented 'Guru' stares, the one that meant "...Jeez, that is such a DUMB comment..." and she hurried to explain. "Not really, Doctor J, I am not so ignorant! Of course I know it is meant to go into my vagina and not my belly, I was just being silly. And that process is also supposed perhaps even to be enjoyable? That is hard indeed to believe!"

Jeff leaned back against the shower wall, cock protruding wickedly into her grasp: "You should believe it, Lady Zohra. My "apparatus" is all yours. Touch it however you wish. I can't imagine complaining, whatever you do!"

Emboldened, she swayed back, tugged the shaft firmly down to horizontal and touched the tip to her navel, pressed forward against it - it stood rigid between them like a curved pink-ivory-iron rod. She retreated a centimeter: the released shaft sprang upwards, whacked him wetly on the abdomen and settled: the helmet-rim was level with the bottom of her sternum, just below the under-swell of her boobs.

She repeated the exercise several times. Jeff didn't stop her, but felt he had to say something. "Yes, I do shave. And thank you for the compliment, Zo, but in fact that thing, my cock, is not 'positively huge', as you put it. Any such appearance is just an illusion caused by me being so much bigger than thee, and probably also by the shave, which does make the thing stand out rather more prominently than it might. What we have here is a perfectly normal cock in a state of serious arousal. A true hard-on in the best sense of the term."

Suspicions confirmed - she merely nodded, didn't flinch at the terminology.

"A hard-on entirely caused by you, Lady Zo. He has a name, 'JT', stands for John Thomas. I took it from Lady Chatterley's Lover, a rather famous erotic book. JT doesn't greet just anyone that enthusiastically, believe me! So there is a return compliment!"

She smiled her thanks at him, but just muttered "Hmmm. Hello, JT - nice to make your acquaintance." She giggled again: her hand stroked gently, repeatedly tugging his half-circumcised foreskin up and over the head, then uncovering it on the return stroke: Jeff's appreciative shudders of transparent pleasure thrilled her, confirmed her earlier observations.

"This is no illusion here in my hands, Doctor J, of that I am quite certain! How often you have insisted to me that a person must be willing to believe her basic senses, at least most of the time? And here, now, I do believe my senses - in most cases they are quite reliable. What I am holding in my hand is REAL. And apparently you like my touch?"

Through his pink mental haze of lust, Jeff thought 'Aggressive learning, indeed!' Another stroke, another shiver. Jeff managed to nod, then to say in a somewhat strangled voice that pleased Zo enormously, "Oh, yes, indeed - I do like your touch, Lady Zo! You may have thirty minutes to stop!"

Unexpectedly, she did stop, studied his crotch for another long moment, then looked up and squeezed the cock-base in one hand, the tip in the other, made a delicate wringing motion that nearly blew off the top of his skull. "This cock, this penis, it is a truly marvelous contraption. So intricate, so complicated. Delicate and yet seemingly quite strong all at once. So many functions, too! An interesting and amazing design. Like a Swiss Army knife, a little bit anyway?!"

From the pensive way she paused, Jeff correctly intuited that there was something else looming, so held his silence. Finally Zohra said "Tell me, Doctor J - if I were to stroke it quite a bit, this cock of yours, this fellow known as Mister JT, would that make you come? Have an orgasm?"

Jeff was startled at the blunt question and the knowledge it revealed: he wondered, was it just knowledge gleaned from books and friends, or from the real world of personal experience? As usual she didn't wait for an answer.

"I do have a "boyfriend", you should know. Sort of, that is. Nothing at all formal, please understand! I found him myself, so it is NOT my parents trying to arrange a marriage, although I am certain they would like to do so. But I am also convinced they know full well that I would not put up with that! Not here in the USA and not TODAY!"

"Anyhow, Doctor J, he is barely older than I, and like me he is of fully Indian ancestry. He is rather pretty, maybe he will be handsome when he is grown up, but also quite a small person, only a little over my height and not likely to grow much more I am afraid. Too bad - I like bigger men!"

She broke through her veil of seriousness for a second: "YOU, for instance, are just about the perfect size, although you doubtless do not know it!"

Then back she went: "Very bright, he is, and good at mathematics and science. But not so good at most other things. A nice boy, I am afraid, but by no means is he yet a man." She squeezed Jeff's hardon gently again, re-made solid eye contact. "I have touched him a bit, like this. Compared with yours, his cock is more like a pencil - not so long by half at least, nor so broad either by much more than half - and not so genuinely massive by a great deal more than that! Such a volume you have here, by comparison!"

She smiled up at him with her eyes closed, her hands slipping the foreskin clear of his cock-head again, fingertips tracing the edge of the helmet, studying the classics - "Anatomy by Braille."

"Thank you for letting me touch you - I have wanted to do this for ever so long, you know. My so-called boyfriend has a big twist of this excess skin over the end of his cock. His foreskin is tight, not nicely loose like yours, and it will not slide all the way down, and therefore I have never actually touched the naked tip. Moving your cock's skin about is rather like opening a present done up with extra-special wrapping-paper!"

Jeff twitched as a small whole-body spasm shook him.

She gently bit her lip, concentrating. "Frankly, Doctor J, I prefer your condition, your cock, without all that extra skin, because I like to see and touch things."

She made a big show of opening her eyes wide, making sure of eye contact, then staring down at her hands.

"Your cock is the first I have seen up close and naked and in real life instead of pictures. I have never even had much chance to examine my so-called boyfriend's so-called cock! We are always groping about in the dark somewhere, always in a hurry, and he is forever so afraid of being discovered that it completely spoils any specialness of the moment. I think such explorations should be special, like ours right now, not embarrassing, but they are not so between him and me."

Then, thoughtfully, "This 'boyfriend' thing has all been quite disappointing, believe me! Perhaps I should just quit seeing him? Such lovely, velvety skin you have here on JT's tip! My body has nothing to compare with it, I think. Several times I have made him come, you know, with my hands. In fact, he rather insists on it whenever possible, although he never does anything at all for me in return, which is clearly unfair!"

She shrugged. "But always he seems to feel afterwards that he has committed some sort of cosmic sin, whether against me, or himself, or the gods I do not know, for he will not talk to me about it. Also, he cries each time afterwards, cries like a girl. And he absolutely refuses to touch ME at all in return - we do not even kiss or neck or pet! Can you believe it, Doctor J - I finally get a boyfriend and he will not even kiss! It is as if doing so were utterly forbidden, on pain of death or something."

"Perhaps, to be fair, he is a bit inexperienced and therefore frightened, and simply does not know what to do? But then, boys are supposed to be the pushy ones in all this, are they not? All girls are warned about that part of every male's character! Phooey! He has no great imagination, and certainly no vast storehouse of knowledge or experience of these things, and most assuredly I myself do not either, and I therefore cannot lead him along, which I might happily do if only! I do wonder why he seems to think it is alright for me to touch him - at least so it seems each time we get together and before he comes - but it is never alright to reciprocate? Perhaps I am ugly to him and he is just using me?"

Another thoughtful pause: "At any rate, he has some very ingenious excuses which he calls 'reasons' and which he argues are entirely logical and scientific but he is far too intellectual by half I think. And also by half too emotional, with the crying! Everything seems by halves with him. In this whole man-woman business he most closely resembles my little cat tied in a knot of indecision as it chatters towards a bird just out of reach! Nothing I say or do changes things much. All of that is very frustrating!"

It had been quite a long soliloquy by the time she finally paused, but before Jeff could say anything she went on yet again: "Surely not all men are like my boyfriend? Would YOU cry like him, Doctor J, if I were to make you come? Surely that crying, and the sort of paralysis that seems to come over him, is not normal, not the usual way for all men everywhere? If you and I were boyfriend and girlfriend could you touch me, and I touch you, back and forth together, and not think we were both somehow evil for doing so?"

A long pause as she realized she should let him catch up.