Valentine's Babies

"Forgive me if I'm saying something offensive, but you two just don't seem very much alike," I said as diplomatically as possible.

"Believe me, you're not the first person to say that, so don't worry, I'm not offended. But I suspect you're like most people; you don't really know, Mike. He comes off as very aloof and standoffish, and I'll admit some of the people that he has hung out with were absolutely deserving of that criticism, but Mike is complicated, and when it comes right down to it, he's family, so I still love him. Besides, I can tell he likes you."

"Why would he like me? He doesn't even know me." I still had my doubts.

"He knows more about you than you think. I've told him about a lot of our conversations in philosophy class. Based on what I've told him, he thinks you're brilliant, and he knows a lot about philosophy too. I think he'd surprise you."

"Why would he think I'm brilliant? 'Cause I'm not you know. Do you know what my GPA is?"

"He thinks you're brilliant, because, I do, and he always agrees with me!" I was about to argue the innumerable flaws in that logic, when the topic of conversation walked over to the love seat to talk to us.

"So, Ethan, Kris, Laney, and Garrett tell me that you're quite a music aficionado. Care to spin some tunes for us. It's your birthday, so why don't you take over control of the stereo?"

"Are you sure you want that to happen? I've been known to play things that alienate just about everyone in the room. I have pretty weird tastes. Well, somewhat weird tastes," I admitted. I was actually overjoyed at the opportunity.

"I think this party could use a little diversity. Do you have your iPhone, or do you want just play some of my stuff?

"Actually I have my iPod with me. I think I may even have a Valentine's Day playlist."

"You still have an iPod? I thought the iPhone replaced those things," said Mike's gorgeous bombshell of a girlfriend who just happened to be eavesdropping on our conversation. I was annoyed. It seemed typically snobbish, and Mike gave her the dirtiest look the moment she said it. Later, I saw him pull her into the kitchen to talk.

"Well, I do have an iPhone, but it wouldn't work very well if I kept all of my music on it. My iPod has nearly 14,000 songs, and they take up a lot of memory -- 64 gigs to be precise."

"Makes a lot of sense with that much music," Mike said. "Where did a guy your age get so many tunes?"

"I've been collecting for a long time, but I also inherited a rather extensive collection," I said, somewhat embarrassed that I was having this conversation. I usually let my music do the talking for me, rather than the other way around.

"Inherited? Whose collection did you inherit, if you don't mind my asking?" Mike asked.

"My father's. All of his vinyl recordings, a lot of really rare stuff -- jazz, folk, old country, rhythm and blues, and a lot of really early rock and roll," I said. "My father believed that popular music would have been better off if everything just stopped about 1966. I'm beginning to agree with him. Anyway, after he died, I digitalized a lot it; at least the stuff I really liked."

"I'm so sorry, Ethan," Kris apologized with tears in her eyes, "I didn't know your father was dead. I'm really, really sorry."

"What can you say, heart attacks happen," I tried not to sound too bothered by the conversation, but the truth was I didn't want to be talking about this. It was an unpleasant anniversary.

"Well, if you don't mind, why not play the Valentine's Day playlist? That sounds really interesting. I'm curious what you're into," Mike said warmly.

So I plugged in my iPod, and cued up the playlist. It started with the most obvious choice in the world, but I also thought it was perfect for the occasion -- Chet Baker's "My Funny Valentine." It's my favorite version of the song, and it came from one of the records I got from my father, a mid-50s recording called Chet Baker Sings, the first album to ever feature his singing.

When Baker's thin, reedy voice, backed by the low rumblings of a double bass, began trembling through Mike's $5000 speaker system, a few partygoers visibly stopped what they were doing and started listening. Then, Kris jumped up to hug me, "Oh I love this song!" she said enthusiastically. "The vocals are so good!"

"They sure are," Mike said, from behind us, "but Chet Baker isn't really a singer; he's a trumpet player." It was an interesting observation, but one that I concurred with wholeheartedly. Maybe this guy wasn't the vacuous, superficial charlatan that I thought he was.

"That right," I said, "And that's why he's so good, precisely because he's not really a singer. It's like his vocals are so vulnerable because he knows the limitations of his voice, and that's what makes his singing so good."

The next song was a rocker from the 80s by The Replacements, named appropriately "Valentine." This one made more sense to Mike's friends, but I could tell that none of them had ever heard it before. It was at least fifteen years too old for them.

The playlist followed up The Replacements with Steve Earle's "Valentine's Day," a sparse acoustic number that dripped with heartache and regret and featured only Earle's twangy vocals and spare guitar.

Next up was My Bloody Valentine's "Only Shallow" -- not really a Valentine's Day song, but I figured that when you're band is named My Bloody Valentine, you've earned your way onto any Valentine's Day playlist! Kevin Shields' "glide guitar" elicited some weird reactions from the Coldplay, Fall Out Boy, and My Chemical Romance fans in the audience.

The rest of the songs on the playlist were likewise dissimilar, eclectic, and non-commercial: Jeff Buckley, Creation Rebel, Big Star, Al Green, Bright Eyes, Dusty Springfield, John Coltrane, UB40, Jackie Wilson, and on and on.

After the first few songs, Kris and I settled back and talked and drank. We actually visited with some of Mike's friends, each of whom complimented me on my playlist. Each of them knew something about the songs, artists or musicians that I had included. Many of them turned out to be pretty nice people, with the exception of Mike's obnoxious girlfriend.

Toward the end of the evening, well after midnight, I found myself talking to Laney and Garrett. "Well, are you glad you came?" Garrett asked.

"Yeah, I am. It's been fun, and I like Kris a lot," I said. "So, it was her idea to invite us, huh?"

"I told you you'd be pleasantly surprised," he said. I was more than pleasantly surprised; I was also pleasantly intoxicated.

"Ethan, I'm sorry I blabbed. I didn't mean to. I hope it didn't ruin your night! You know we love you," Laney apologized.

"Thanks, I know you do. And don't worry; it's okay, but next time, I'll know better than to trust you with nuclear secrets!" She smiled. I knew she felt bad, but it had actually worked out nicely. I had my 15 minutes of fame with the hipster crowd and had found out that they weren't awful people, especially Mike.

"Listen, were going to head out," Laney said. "Do you want to come with us, or...?" I think Kris guessed at the conversation we were having from across the room, and she had something to say about it. Before I could answer, she approached us.

"Ethan, I just wanted you to know that... um... I'm... spending the night here, and well, if you don't have... if you want... to stay... you're more than welcome." I had been trying to figure out an angle to get her to come with me, back to my place, but this was even more convenient, and I really didn't want to go back outside into the cold anyway.

Before I had a chance to respond, Laney interrupted again, "Okay, well, we're going to take off, so you two have a great rest of your Valentine's Day and Happy Birthday to you both. You make a nice couple."

It wasn't even remotely subtle, but I knew she was trying to help. Besides, it pretty much sealed the deal. There wasn't even a distant possibility now that I was going to say "no," not that I had any intention of saying "no" to begin with.

Kris and I had one more drink with Mike and a few other people -- thank god, the skanky girlfriend was gone now, and I would later learn that night was the end of their relationship.

Just as we were about to wander off to the guest bedroom, Mike turned to me and said sincerely, "Ethan, I'm really glad you came tonight. You're a cool guy, and you make Kris really happy. I hope you feel like you're welcome here anytime. I care a lot about my cousin, and she cares a lot about you, so don't be a stranger, okay?"

"Oh, and one other thing," he continued. "You've got killer taste in music, dude. Thanks for playing your tunes tonight!" He smiled at me warmly.

"You're welcome, Mike. Thanks for having us over. I had a good time, probably the best birthday I've ever had. Thank you."

So I grabbed Kris by the hand, and we strolled down the hallway to a bedroom on the southwest corner of the apartment, replete with floor to ceiling windows overlooking downtown. The lights of the city, reflecting off February's snow, cast a romantic ambiance about the room. And so I took Kris' beautiful face in my hands and kissed her with passion.

She hugged me tightly, and her stupendous tits were mashed up against my chest, as I bent low to kiss her sensual lips. It has never ceased to amaze me that a woman's lips can tell you everything about her as a lover, and Kris Walden had the most sensual lips I had ever kissed.

Then, I turned her around and began kissing, licking and nibbling at her ears, the nape of her neck, and her exposed shoulders, while my hands ran up the front of her dress, over her breasts and around her waist, and down her legs. I carefully and diplomatically avoided touching her between her legs. That was better left for a time when we were horizontal.

After five minutes of groping, I broke our embrace, and putting my hands on her warm shoulders, I apologized, "Kris, I feel really bad that I didn't call you after that day when we went out for coffee. I should have done it the next day, but then... I don't know what happened. I don't have any excuses. I just... I feel... bad.... I really liked you; right away, I really liked you." She just stared up at me with this angelic look. She was beautiful bathed in the warm light from the window.

"You're kind of my image of the perfect woman," I continued, "and I'm not just saying that. You kind of have it all working -- brains, humor, and beauty. You've knocked me for a loop. Am I an asshole if I tell you that I'm falling in love with you?"

"No, you're an asshole if you act like you're falling in love with me when you're not." I didn't say anything, but that statement seemed to convey a lot about where she was coming from.

"Ethan, I invited you here tonight because I'd fallen for you too, and I wanted to sleep with you. Mike was kind enough to help me arrange things." And then she bared her soul, "Look, the reason I like you so much is because I think we both want the same things, and if there's one thing I know about you -- you're not into shallow and superficial shit, and neither am I."

"And don't apologize about not calling me! First of all, if you had called, I couldn't have seen you anyway -- I was in the Caymans and then I went to visit my father. He and mother are divorced; he lives in San Francisco. And even after I got back here, I wasn't sweating things. I knew you liked me. A girl can tell. So I figured I'd just find a way to bring you to me. And that's where Mike came in."

"Ethan, every girl in the world is waiting to hear some guy tell her he's falling in love with her. What would make you think that would make you an asshole?"

"I don't know. It's just that my birthdays haven't really gone very well. In fact, they've been downright disastrous. I was just afraid there was still time for the whole thing to blow up in my face. This one has been so good that I didn't want to spoil it by saying something that you didn't think was sincere. I hope you know that I don't walk around telling girls that I'm falling in love with them. I've never said that before in my life, but I'm telling you now."

"How about instead of telling me, you just show me instead?"

And so I laid Kris down on the bed and unzipped her dress. She pulled the straps off her shoulders, and then I helped her slither it down her body and off her legs.

I lost my breath when I saw what was underneath. She was wearing a yellow knit bra and matching thong that both sported a kind of butterfly design. I could see her wide areolas and pink nipples poking through the knitting of the bra which could not contain her massive breasts. And the thong, the thong was crotchless, and her excited, wet lips were spread out between two tiny strings that snugly framed that incredible pussy.

"Oh my god, Kris," I said trying to catch my breath, "you are absolutely gorgeous."

"Make love to me, Ethan. I want you!"

So I kissed my way down her body, languishing about her breasts for several minutes, though I did not take off her bra. It, along with her thong would remain in place throughout our lovemaking.

It was kind of like when it first snows and the earth is covered by a seamless white blanket, and it seems sacrilegious to walk on it and despoil its perfection. She just looked so beautiful that I didn't want to touch a thing for fear I would ruin it.

But she wanted my touch; she craved it, and every hot breath, every kiss, every lick, every gentle bite, every pinch was met with a soft moan or a deep groan that urged me on. I moved downward past her soft stomach to her hips, and then the small of her back. I took my time. There was nothing in the world that was going to stop me from enjoying every second.

And then I spread her legs apart, and I crawled between them, and her pussy was there, glistening in the dim light, and I was so hard just looking at it, just staring. She was waxed clean everywhere, except for a tiny, little tuft of light brown pubic hair that started just above her clit hood and ran up her mound for only an inch and half. But I didn't want to touch her pussy. Not yet, not until she was begging me.

So I kissed and licked and nibbled my way around her butterfly -- her mound, her thighs, and I turned her over and paid homage to her ass, and the tiny yellow strings that strained to hold it.

And then I turned her over again, onto her back, and I bent her knees and pushed her thighs down and apart and began to blow my hot, moist breath onto her exposed pussy lips. She went wild with passion. But each breath out also meant a deep breath in, and so I was taking in her scents and aromas as well -- the almost imperceptible fragrance of her perfume mixed up with a penetrating, organic tang and the sweet floral odor of her bouquet.

"Oh, please make love to me with your mouth. I want your lips and your tongue on my sex! Please, Ethan." It was what I had been waiting for, and now that I had her asking, begging, pleading for it, I could not deny her. Besides, it was her birthday, and I hadn't brought her a gift.

So I slid my wet tongue, up the length of her delicate lips, and when I got to the top, I caressed her clit three times with just the very tip of my tongue. She began bucking, against me, and I had to hold her thighs down so that she didn't squirm away from me. Her breathing was ragged and irregular now, so I backed off. I went back to her lips again, each time running my tongue a little flatter across the surface of her wet opening, until after 10 or 15 strokes, I was using the entire flat surface of my tongue on her gaping wide treasure.

Kris was producing so much arousal now, that her lips couldn't contain all of it. It began leaking out of her crack and down that miracle inch between her pussy and her ass. There was so much of it that I decided to catch a little with my finger and rub very gently around her anus, a move I thought she might consider too aggressive, but which instead, was met with a cry of "Oh yes, yes, yes! That feels so good! Keep touching me like that!"

So I continued to very gently touch her asshole with the index finger from my left hand, while, at the same time, I inserted the index finger from my right hand into her wet hole. When I did, more juices spilled from her and down to her sensitive chute.

Then I added another finger to her pussy, and I realized that now it was time to use my mouth on her clitoris. I figured that was enough to get her off, and that's what I was after. More than any other aspect of sex, I think I enjoy watching women cum the most.

They always seem as if they are fighting against the feeling, at least in the beginning, and I think that resistance makes their climaxes that much stronger. And then there are the spasms that roll through their entire bodies. Women just seem to be so much more overcome by their climaxes physically. Cumming is an entire bodily experience for them. I knew this would be the case with Kris. I could tell her whole body needed this release.

And so I concentrated on all three means of pleasure as I held her down with the weight of my upper body -- the push and pull of my lips coupled with my darting tongue on her clitoral hood; the deep penetration of two of my fingers in her vagina; and the circular motion of my index finger on her quivering asshole.

And then it came, like a thunderous wave crashing down upon her, "Oh... my... oh... my... god... I'm... cum... I'm... cum... cumming... I'm cumming, I'm cumming! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she cried out, and then she commenced her quaking. She jerked her head back and forth in time to her convulsions, "Ohhh... ohhh... ohhh... ohhh... ohhh... ohhh... ohhh... ohhh!" until finally the shaking subsided and the muscles of her body began to relax.

Kris didn't say anything for a moment. And then she sort sat up, or at least leaned forward, and said breathlessly, "Oh Ethan! That was so good. I came so hard. You don't know how much I needed that. I've been waiting for you to do that to me. I've been fantasizing about it ever since I first met you. I just knew you would be so good, but you're even better than I imagined!"

"Happy Birthday, baby! Happy Valentine's Day!"

She sat up all the way and began kissing me. I could tell that she could taste herself on my lips, and I knew that turned her on. But now she wanted her own taste.

"Lay back! I want to take you in my mouth!" So I lay down on the bed, and Kris began pulling my clothes off me -- my shoes, pants, shirt, and then after rubbing my erection through my boxer briefs, she pulled them down my legs and off. I lay there with my throbbing cock lying against my stomach.

Then, she crawled between my legs, and lifted the head of my prick to the entrance of her mouth. Her mouth around my head was so warm and wet, but it was those lips that were quickly driving me mad with desire. At first, she didn't so much suck my cock, as she just rubbed her lips across it. I suspected that she'd never taken a cock deep into her mouth or throat, and considering what her lips were doing to me, that didn't much matter to me.

Then, she ran her tongue up my entire length from my balls back to my mushroom head, before she crawled to my side, and wetting her lips, she began dragging them up and down my shaft, caressing it with their softness. I am certain she could have brought me off that way, but I was aching to be inside her.

"Kris, can I make love to you?"

She didn't say anything at first, just crawled her way up my chest until her wet lips found mine, and whispered, "Yes, please." I reached for my jeans at the side of the bed and found a condom in my pocket. I started to open the foil packet, when Kris put her hands on mine to stop me. "Let me do that, please?" She took the packet from me.