Romantic Nonsense

Then, without a hint, without a glimmer of warning, not even an inkling of the impending explosion, his semen burst forth into her. He could feel the cum squirting and oozing. He filled her valley much in the way reservoirs were created in the 1930s under Roosevelt's WPA! He was so caught off guard, he was half way through his delight when he felt the sensation rush to his head and he began to scream, but not in a horror movie kind of way. He began to rock into her, pounding her now gushing canyon, over and over again, draining his monster, allowing her kegel muscles to squeeze him and milk him like a cow's udder.

Juanita was climaxing as well, hollering out the names menu items in a Chinese restaurant. "Shrimp fried rice! Egg foo yong! Chow Mein! Won-FUCKING-tons!" It was almost as if it was one long word. Her G spot was so satisfied that it moved up in the alphabet to D.

Don thought, "I guess I put the thought of China in her head; Hmm, the power of suggestion. Damn. Now I'm hungry."

Juanita rolled off of Don and lay beside him. They held each other tight, gathering their strength. It had been yet another amazing love making session for the two of them. Both were more spent than the ENRON pension plan. The music had changed once more, it was The Sex Pistols only album.

As they lay together basking in each other's glow, Don began to feel a bit uneasy. He cleared his throat and, staring straight up at the ceiling said, in a low, halting tone, "Juanita, my dearest cumquat, I must confess something to you."

She turned towards him and with her arm draped over his chest said, "Yes, oh yes, you can tell me anything. You know that."

Don continued, the hesitation revealing his embarrassment, and yet he persisted, "While we were making love, I was trying to hold back my climax so as to reach the apex simultaneously with you. As I did, I pictured touching a man's private areas, caressing him in much the way I caress myself. Please do not hate me for this. I am a flawed human being. I thought of MEN, Juanita, MEN!"

"I did, too, darling," she replied without so much as a breath first. She added, "Don, you think of anything and anyone you like. You know I love you. Think of whomever helps with the experience." After a very brief pause she added, "Not your mother of course."

She just couldn't let that go, thought Don. But it was good and right with her otherwise. He rolled onto his side and held her tightly. "I've never felt closer to you than right now."

Juanita kissed his face and said, "Well, actually, when you were INSIDE, you were a BIT closer, but I understand."

They held each other, basking in the afterglow of an intense rendezvous. Suddenly, Juanita scrambled to her feet and hurried to the kitchen calling out, "Oh my GOD, I left the lemonade on the stove!"

When she returned, she threw another log onto the fire, this one had been soaking in lamp oil and nearly caused an explosion as it caught fire, but the heat was intense and brought about renewed vigor to the lovers. They began to kiss and lick each other's bodies from head to toe.

Don interrupted the flow of the moment. "Hey, I'm sorry, but I really gotta take a leak. I'll be right back."

As he re-entered the large, warm and inviting living room he declared, "Juanita, you are the finest woman a man could ever hope for; a glorious vision for the eyes, a soft supple joy for the hands; a tender shapely companion for any body; a challenge for the mind; and so good at 'Chutes and Ladders'. I adore you and I worship you. I thank the goddess Eros herself for you."

"Eros is a guy," replied Juanita.

"Oh. Yeah," said Don as he approached his prey.

"Did you wash up after peeing?" Asked Junaita.

"Of course. Scrubbed little willy for all he was worth."

Juanita smiled from ear to ear and said, "Let me FREE willy." She reached for his flaccid tool as it hung lifeless between his legs, brushing his knees as he walked slowly towards her. Junita brought it to life in one breath. She gently blew on it, then gave the shaft a little kiss, then a little lick, it slowly began to rise back to its magnificent splendor.

"Do you feel up to another round? DOGGY STYLE?" she asked.

"Of course. I wish only to please you." He responded with a wry smile, adding, "of course, if I get off, too, that's just fucking awesome."

Juanita hugged willy and made passionate oral love to him, it, kissing up and down the shaft, wrapping her mouth around the head, allowing her tongue to flit about like a moth by a lamp. She looked up and asked her soulmate, "Don't you find it funny that the hole at the end of this is called the meatus of the penis and most people call the whole sausage, meat? I find that quite amusing."

Don answered, breathlessly, "I didn't know it was called that. Oh my apple core, you teach me so much. I hold you in high academic esteem."

Juanita stood and raised Don up. She grasped his member and began to lead him around the room. Don smiled and said, "It's like I'm a cart, my shaft is the cart shaft and you are the hor...." He immediately realized that this was not going well, but also immediately realized that by not finishing 'horse' it sounded even worse. "SE. You're like the horse, but you are NOT a horse, you are a wondrous wild animal, but, nay, not a horse. I MEANT 'NO', NOT 'NAY'!"

Juanita looked back and smiled again. She knew what he meant and found it amusing. She gave old Dick Johnson an extra little squeeze.

She led him to the couch. His rock hard sex bar was completely horizontal. Juanita always loved the fact that his shaft was so incredibly perfect, no bends, no strange growths, no discoloration. He had managed to grow to 11 ½ inches. "So special," she thought as she knelt on the couch, displaying her ass. Her cheeks were spread as she bent. She then spread her legs a bit allowing a full and unencumbered view of her taint and all that was available to him. "Open me up and insert yourself to our mutual delight!" Ordered Juanita as she reached around to open herself more.

"Uh, ass or pussy?" querried Don as he stroked himself.

"Do you have any lube, my darling?" Juanita asked.

"No. I could get some from the kitchen."

"Pussy. Just go for the pussy. I am as wet as an ocean and can take all of you, kinda, without foreign substances."

He stepped forward and reaching down, opened her with his left hand, steadied himself on her backside with his right and loaded her torpedo tube with his pink fish of destruction, just waiting for the right freighter before launching and reeking havoc. To rend destruction on the enemy fleet to the cheers of his..... Don caught himself. "Damn, I wish now I hadn't watched 'Das Boot' again last night on TV."

He slid himself in and out slowly wondering if he should dwell on the genitals of his fellow man again, "no, maybe not." He was confused as to whether those previous thoughts had delayed or hastened his climax and didn't want to dwell on it.

"Spank me, lover. Make my bottom as red as a fire engine."

Don wasn't upset. He knew she liked to be spanked and that she had an obsession with firefighters. They were kind of cool, daring, brave and that smell of smoke in their turnout coats was often a bit of a turn on. Don caught himself again. "Shit. This is starting to worry me, he thought."

He spanked, once, twice, thrice, for-ice? Don didn't know what it was called and didn't care. He decided to not even count, just go until she ordered him to stop, which was only about 3 minutes into her punishment. The background music was now a harpsichord playing freeform jazz.

"Don, oh dearest Don, I like to be spanked and sure, I said make my bum red, but, uh, are you suddenly the Marquis de Sade? I mean, come on, a LITTLE less vigorous, please?"

Don apologized profusely and gently rubbed her backside. The thrusts began to hasten a bit and Juanita's protestations of abuse were replaced by low moans of total satisfaction. She pulled forward and then backed up and they became a human sex machine with a perfect complimentary rhythm. He went forward, she went back. He pulled back, she pushed her body forward.

The slapping of his thighs against her cheeks was filling the room. It echoed making it sound like the entire world was fucking at this very same time. SLAP! SLAP! WHAP! WHAP! Over and over again in a timeless perfect cadence.

Juanita began to speak. Don didn't understand a word but knew immediately what it was, she was chanting in Norwegian, the loveliest language of Scandinavia. He loved it when she spoke Norwegian to him, even though, as far as he knew, she could be cursing his family or spouting recipes for herring. He found Norwegian to be an aphrodisiac though just why, he knew not.

"Ah ja, Baby, snakke med meg i norsk!" cried out Don in ONLY Norwegian he knew, well that and of course, "Jeg vil ha noen sild vær".

Juanita continued and it was driving Don wild. He pumped, SHE pumped. He pounded, SHE pounded. They were keeping better time than a metronome and it was more fun, too. Such lust, such unbridled lust that these two people shared with each other wanting only to please the other...and get off, they HAD to get themselves off, too. They WERE only human after all.

"Pull out when you're ready to ejaculate your love juice, Min vakre fisker monger! Let me know just before you cum, you must tell me, YOU MUST!"

"I will, honey pie, I will...I AM! I AM!"

Juanita pulled herself away, spun around and grabbed hold of his throbbing schwantz and engulfed it in her mouth. He spewed into her mouth and then she backed up and pumped him rapidly, RABIDLY sending jizm cascading about her face. Using her other hand, she began to rub herself for all she was worth and she suddenly leaned back away from him and let out a loud groan, followed by a scream and several, "WHOOP WHOOP WHOOPS!!!!!" s. As she leaned back, she had failed to let go of his scepter of amore and she pulled him down upon her. He managed to shift just in time so as not to land directly on top of her which could potentially ruin her orgasm and even hurt his now 12 inch pike of passion. He felt satisfied and proud that he had saved them both in that moment.

He had fallen as she had climaxed, still holding him tightly, and she had managed to pump a few more pints of elsker melk from him; the sticky off white substance covered her breasts.

Once more, the lovers were spent and this time, neither felt they would fully recover and potentially die, but die happy, fulfilled and satisfied. But death was not stalking the two this night, only Aphrodite followed by her son Eros, a guy, all guy, nothing feminine about him.

They slept for about an hour. When they awoke, it was still night, 3:15 a.m. to be exact. They rose from the rather messy couch, soaked and stained from their love making (Juanita made a mental note to have it sent out, maybe burned and replaced) and they went to the lavatory to take a shower and cleanse themselves. Juanita also wanted to do a quick douche.

The passion had been rekindled in the shower but in a much more subdued way. Once they were cleansed and dried, they retired to the kitchen where Don made them decaf tea and they munched on toasted scones. They sat in silence simply staring at each other, admiring each others' perfections and trying to overlook any flaws that they suddenly noticed.

"That nose hair is outrageously long, but ah, who cares?" thought Don.

"Why are his ears so fucking big? Oh, to reflect his manhood, it all makes so much sense," thought Juanita.

"Her eyes are like limped pools. Lipton pools? What the hell is that cute phrase everyone uses?" Pondered Don.

"His skin is so perfect, even that mole on the lower part of his chin is magnificent," mused Juanita.

Once the tea and scones were gone, they went to bed, sleeping blissfully. Both satisfied beyond their wildest dreams, especially Juanita.

*************************

"So, all this is true? Every word? You said all this and did all this?" asked Mr. Kaplan.

"All true. No exaggeration or poetic license. Not even, well, ok, I did take a few liberties with how big the fire was, but otherwise, this is a true story," replied Don, with just a hint of bullshit.

"Uh, sure. OK. And who is Juanita again? A hooker?" asked a somewhat skeptical Mr. Kaplan.

"No, no, please, that's a terrible thing to say. She's my wife, my beautiful sexy wife," said Don getting a tad defensive.

"Don, I don't mean to sound mean, but, uh, if she's really so sexy, why did you seem disappointed that she was only an 8, when in fact, you're not a great looking guy yourself. If I had an 8 who was willing to sleep with me, I'd give her 20 extra bonus points just for that! You almost make it sound like you're, well, doing HER the favor." Mr. Kaplan couldn't hide his confusion. Actually, he was extremely upfront about his confusion. "A lot of this stuff is....why is some of this stuff in there? LEFT THE LEMONADE ON THE STOVE? What the hell is that all about? What does it mean?"

"It's a metaphor."

"Ok, but for what?" Mr. Kaplan had been in the publishing business for many years and had seen many unusual books come across his desk. He had asked to meet with Don because he sensed something special, unique, and bizarre about his writing style and had to meet him face to face. Mr. Kaplan was actually enjoying this interview and toying with the thought of actually publishing this strange little man's even stranger manuscript. But he still needed a few questions answered.

"So, a metaphor for what?" Mr. Kaplan asked.

"Life in general. Aren't we all just lemonade and isn't the earth just a stove?" replied Don, straight faced and totally serious.

"Sure," said Mr. Kaplan. "I sometimes feel sour while the heat burns my feet." He sighed. "Tell me more about Juanita.

"She's a vision, a goddess. The waxing has helped tremendously. She has an amazing sex drive, six speeds at least. Her reverse is unquestionably something every man should experience at least once and if you want, I'll let you. I understand that sometimes romance publishers have to feel out the subject before being sure of its merits."

"No, I think I'm OK," said Mr. Kaplan even though as he thought about it, maybe if this guy was really willing to let him screw around with his wife, it could be fun. He then dismissed the idea fearing the worst. What if she was ugly as hell, how would he get out of it without insulting them both. What if this guy suddenly wanted to join in? He did indicate he had those tendencies in the manuscript. What if HIS wife found out..."

"Mr. Kaplan? Are you OK?" asked Don who couldn't help but notice Mr. Kaplan had gone silent and kind of wrinkled his face up. "You don't have to fart, do you?"

"Uh, no, no. I'm fine. I ah, well, so, Juanita sounds special. You don't have a picture of her do you?" Asked Mr. Kaplan as he shook himself back to the interview, but still intrigued at Don's offer.

"No, I can't. I would need a trailer. I feel no small picture does her justice. I feel a full sized portrait is all I can allow, a nude to be exact. I have several."

"Sure. I understand." He didn't, but why bother continuing this? Then he added, "And the eye patch on her breast?"

"What about it?" Don seemed confused by the question.

"Metaphor?"

"Of course."

Mr. Kaplan just sighed. He next needed some clarification about Don.

"I have to ask, are you really that big? I mean, you know, down there?"

"Where?"

"Your Johnson, is it that big?"

"You wanna see it? It's not really THAT big, but I can let you be the judge for your..."

Mr. Kaplan interrupted, "NO NO NO, I'm good. I'll take you at your word. So this is a true story." Mr. Kaplan found himself in an awkward situation of his own doing. This guy WAS a nut, but an interesting nut; fun, in a way.

"Every few days. We do need to rest now and then and both of us work. I'm a tree trimmer and Juanita is a truck driver, local, not cross country. She's home every evening. I'll make her dinner usually and after we eat, we make love, wild insatiable love. Sometimes she's home first, like in the story and she makes ME dinner. Sometimes we skip dinner, like in the story."

"What was with the different music? I found that rather....oh, different I guess."

"Metaphor."

Mr. Kaplan scratched his chin. He asked, "And the Norwegian?"

"Metaphor. Norway IS a beautiful country and the language is exciting. It stood for the beauty of Juanita and how truly exciting she is."

"Is she real? I mean, I recall when you first came in, before you handed me your story and we chatted a bit, you said that had one of those dolls, the silicone ones. That's not Juanita, right?" asked Mr. Kaplan.

"Oh, hell no. Juanita is VERY real. Carlotta is also, in her own way, but she doesn't breath or talk. She's amazing in bed, even Juanita has made love to Carlotta a few times, but no, Juanita is very real."

"HUMAN, real, right? Pulse, real skin and such?" Mr. Kaplan doubted her reality at this point.

"HUMAN! Birth certificate and everything."

"Cabbage patch dolls have birth certificates. I mean, she was really born, right? A real mom a real dad, growing hair, needs dental work now and then and the like, right?"

"OF COURSE, Mr. Kaplan," said Don reassuring Mr. Kaplan as best he could. It was obvious Mr. Kaplan had his doubts but Don wanted Mr. Kaplan to be fully aware that Juanita was 'FULLY aware' and fully alive. He pressed his point home by saying, "I'm not some whack job, you know."

They sat in silence for several minutes as Mr. Kaplan digested this whole situation. This guy was different and he began to believe Juanita was real.

Don sat with a big grin. Juanita WAS real, not imaginary and yes, human and yes, she did need some dental work. In fact, thought Don, her incisors were a little too sharp lately and he was feeling it when she blew him. He'd have to talk to her about that.

Mr. Kaplan drummed the desk with his fingers then looked out the window at the city skyline beyond, which was just over the roof line of the next building. He actually had to crane his neck a bit to see it, but it was there and a better view than those on the 3rd floor below him. He liked the advantage he had over those low-lifes and often threw it in their faces.

He turned back to Don, smiled and then, with both palms, slapped the desk as he stood up. He extended his hand and said, "Don, we got a deal and I want to fuck your wife!"

Don beamed. He leapt to his feet and enthusiastically shook Mr. Kaplan's hand. "You won't regret this, ANY of it. I'll let Juanita know. She'll bathe in lavender for you. When would you like to come over? We replaced the couch!"

"How about tomorrow night? I have your address right here," answered Mr. Kaplan. "I'll even bring KFC!"

"Splendid. If it makes you uncomfortable to have me in the room, I'll go upstairs and leave you two alone. I'll watch TV with Carlotta."

"We'll see, maybe you could bring Carlotta down to watch!" offered Mr. Kaplan.

"That could be interesting, but not the dog. He gets far too excited," said Don, adding, "It's all I can do to keep him from fucking Juanita when he sees strangers going at her."

Mr. Kaplan hesitated but then said, "OH, what the hell. It STILL sounds like a very interesting evening. Can we have lemonade?"

"OF COURSE!"

They embraced and Mr. Kaplan showed Don to the door. Once more they shook hands and confirmed their get together for the following night. With that, Don left.

Mr. Kaplan went back to his desk and suddenly realized he had never had Don sign the proper forms to have the story published. Nor had he gotten a check to pay for the publishing. Self publishing was not for the faint of heart, but Mr. Kaplan was convinced that Don was dedicated. Once he added this story to the forty two others that he had on file, he could easily sell this collection of short erotic stories for quite a pretty penny. The writers would make back their investments, and then some, and Mr. Kaplan, as the editor/publisher would make a nice profit himself. All would be well with the world.