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Stimulating
Stories About Sex
A Compilation of Literate
Erotica
We
Proudly Present:
Art and
Life
- a
gallery of
vignettes -
by Harry Merkin
This short
story is a work of
fiction. Names,
characters, places and
incidents either are the
product of the author’s
vivid imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual
human beings, living or
dead, business
enterprises, events or
locales is entirely
coincidental.
Part 2
“Deirdra …”
“I’m not comfortable with my full name. It
carries so much baggage from kindergarten and
elementary school. Please call me, DD.”
“Deirdra is such a beautiful and extraordinary
name. It is an ancient name. What I must say
is so important, I must use your real name.
May I?”
“Yes, Ruairi, Yes. Yes.”
“The first girl with whom I was naked was a
very brief fling one summer. We skinny-dipped
and fooled around for maybe three weeks. I
felt no loss when her family moved away. The
second one was a longer relationship. We met
at a dance at our parents’ country club. It
was lust at first sight. Her light-blue dress
was strapless. She wore a strapless bra. I was
hard all that evening and she knew it. We made
out every chance we got. We never had
intercourse, though we explored each other in
great detail. She found someone else but
kept seeing me. I eventually found out. I was
angry and didn’t get over that until I met
number three. We lost our virginity in a
cramped back seat of a car. It was over so
fast and it was somewhat messy. We persevered.
We practiced and practiced until one weekend
we fucked five times. I ejaculated during all
five and she had orgasms three of those
times. It was such a delight to be with
her. She was one year older. We broke up a
week before she left for college. I still
think about her. I still have wet dreams about
her. Deirdra, we’ve been lab partners for
almost two weeks. I have felt unfaithful to
her for those two weeks. Smitten barely begins
to describe how I feel about you. All of my
nerve endings are on fire when we are
together. My worst fear is that I’ll call you
by her name in the white heat of passion.
Please forgive me if that happens.”
“Fuck me tonight. Please fuck me right now. I
want you. Please fuck me all night long.”
She pulls down her panty. I pull down
my briefs. A long string of pre-cum dangles
from my penis. DD kneels, and licks it off.
She puts my penis in her mouth. She tongues it
like she has done this before.
“You taste so good.”
She stands. She moves closer. She places the
tip of my penis at her hot and wet opening.
She grabs my butt with both hands and pulls me
in. God, this girl is strong. I rupture her
hymen on the way in. She cries out. She
screams. She pulls me in all the way. She is
crying. Her tears drip onto my chest.
“I’m okay. I’m okay now. Fuck me. Don’t pull
out.”
I last longer than I thought I would.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
I wet two small towels. I wipe away the blood.
I clean her carefully and lovingly, then kiss
her raw opening. I pick her up. I hold her and
rock her gently. She is the most precious
object I have ever held in my arms. I
reluctantly place her on my bed. I vow I will
never let her go. I unlace her sneakers and
take them off. She’s already asleep. I
lay next to her. I cover us with a light
blanket.
…
“Ruairi.”
“Whaat?”
“Did I wake you up?”
“Yes. What time is it?”
I lift my arm to show her my watch.
“It’s half past the witching hour and I need
Midol. Do you have any?”
“No, DD, I don’t get menstrual cramps.”
She laughs hysterically.
“Oh shit, now it hurts worse.”
“I’ll get you aspirins and a glass of water.”
…
I give her the aspirins and the water. I turn
off the lights.
“DD, did you ever hear the expression, doing
something the easy way or doing it the hard
way?”
“A million times. My dad said it quite often
while I was growing up.”
“Was he, perchance, talking about things you
had done?”
“Yeah, he was.”
“Good night, beautiful.”
“Ruairi, you can’t stop now. What were you
leading up to?”
“Deirdra, a virgin, even a wild Celtic virgin
like you, has her boyfriend finger her,
stretching things, adding another finger, and
more stretching. Then possibly adding a third
finger and yet more gentle stretching. Then
the penetration and consummation take place.”
“Oh, shit. I didn’t want you to overthink it.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve been rubbing
my clit raw for the last three nights while
imagining our first fuck. My pussy wanted you.
I wanted you.”
“DD, your deflowering was like an ancient
pagan ritual. It was a first coupling of a
Celtic princess and a high-born Celtic
warrior. Your banshee scream came straight
from Irish prehistory. We performed a blood
sacrifice without Druid assistance.”
“Ruairi, you read way too much. And, I’m still
glad I did it that brutal way. Most of my
life’s transitions have happened
imperceptibly, or were marked with a few
balloons and a cake. What I went through was
unmistakable. It was breathtaking and yes,
painful. I shed blood. I shed my childhood and
my innocence.”
“You are amazing, Deirdra. I will never forget
our first wild fuck.”
...
We get to know each other:
.
.
.
.
.
Two months later:
“Wake up, DD, let’s go to the boathouse.”
“I need to shower, my panty has a crust of
last night’s ooze on it.”
“Just put your shorts on and this crew team
T-shirt. We’ll shower after we go sculling.
We’ll see lots of birds at this early hour.
Put a change of clothes in my duffel bag.”
…
Within a few yards of the boathouse, I stand
and perform James Thomas Fields’ immortal
words,
‘ ”We are
lost!” the captain shouted,
As he staggered down the stairs,’
with, of course, exaggerated arm movements.
Naturally, the scull capsizes. DD screams. Her
oar snaps out of its oarlock. My oar flips up,
is briefly perpendicular to the water, then
slaps down hard on the other side
“You fucking moron. Are you insane?”
“DD, your foul mouth is turning me on. And,
you are scaring the waterfowl.”
“Did you do this on purpose?”
“Yes, my dear.”
“You skunk, you weasel, you venomous viper,
why get us wet?”
“Your terms of endearment so warm my heart.
You know I love to play.”
“Okay, playmate, what do we do now?”
…
We spend almost two hours sculling, mostly
upriver, where the thickets of riparian flora
are dense and only the constant nearby road
noise intrudes. DD is enchanted. I know she
loves birds – their plumage, their songs and
calls, their grace, and their aerial feats. We
were dry at least one hour ago.
“Ruairi, this was wonderful. It was amazing to
see thousands of birds, up-close and in their
element. I forgive your puerile, juvenile
prank.”
We clean and stow the scull, put away the
oars, and head for the showers.
“Ruairi, these aren’t coed showers.”
“Not officially.”
Just then Laurance and Elise walk out holding
hands. Their hair is damp. Elise blushes and
giggles. We exchange greetings.
…
We celebrate the one-year anniversary
of her deflowering. It is a long weekend of
downhill skiing with one morning of
cross-country skiing. We fall in love with a
mom-and-pop diner serving amazing, yet simple
fare. The chefs/owners are a couple who had
escaped from Manhattan to rear their three
children in this mountain paradise. We
exchange phone numbers.
Our nights are an extraordinary fuck-fest. We
each admit we love each other (Though we had
already been using the L-word, this was
different and solemn and binding.). I tell DD
I had been given my great grandmother’s
engagement ring to give to my bride-to-be. DD
moves closer to me. Her eyes fill with tears,
tears of unspeakable joy. We begin to plan our
future together. We fuck long and hard and
repeatedly that night. We oversleep, missing
breakfast at the diner.
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and DD
writhing under me while we fuck endlessly; is
that not paradise enough?
.
…
We spend that summer in Europe, the first half
in Ireland and the remainder on the Continent.
The Irish were so delighted to learn our given
names. They embraced us like long-lost
relatives. Their kindness overwhelmed us. We
stayed exclusively among people who looked
like us and behaved like we do. Irishmen and
Irish lads and Irish babes all smiled at us.
They charmed us. Oh, how we loved them.
Our Continental foray was an art pilgrimage.
We haunted Albrecht Dürer’s house in Nürnberg
and the museums in Germany and Austria where
his art and drawings are displayed. We learned
about Lucas Cranach the Elder and greatly
admired his work. We spent several days in
each of the major museums from Amsterdam to
Paris to Madrid. We had an almost-religious
experience standing in the Rijksmuseum before
The Militia
Company of Captain Frans Banning Cocq and
Lieutenant Willem van Ruytenburch.
Our side trip to Toledo was a bust. We had
spent Spring Break at the Metropolitan Museum
of Art in NYC and were transfixed by El
Greco’s, View
of Toledo. That magical view is long
gone.
...
Part 1
Part 2
Part
3
Part 4
Part
5
.
(additional images coming soon)
----------
Not The End
Harry Merkin (a nom de guerre) is a
dick-brain who is more articulate than an
arthropod and has many ways with words. He
tries desperately not to write like Edward
Bulwer-Lytton, but often fails.
NOTES
A. This short story is a fabrication.
B. Harry is familiar with collegiate
boathouses.
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