I met her at church. I had not noticed her before or during the service, but later over cookies and punch a bunch of her friends seemed to know a bunch of my friends and we were introduced. Her name was Noel. I thought, yeah sure, nice girl, and forgot about her. She was cute but there was no thunder and lightning, you might say.
I talked to her in line at the post office a couple weeks later without recognizing her, and we discovered we lived in the same neighborhood. I told her she looked familiar and that's when we figured out we'd met at church. She didn't remember me, either, but we had both been there and we each looked familiar to the other so let's go hear a band tomorrow... I'd pick her up at eight. This was the most normal thing in the world, unusually normal.
Noel and I turned out to have similar taste in music and it didn't take long to learn that we had a similar passion for sex. She said she'd never realized it, like it was just something that occurred to her. I sometimes wonder if it is natural for women to be born with a voracious sexual appetite and then learn to hide it, or if it's natural for them to live without much interest in it until they meet me, and then kaplooey. I can't believe it's me -- I'm nothing special -- but I keep hearing similar stories, so-and-so didn't realize how much she enjoyed sex until now. I really don't think it's me, I just happen to be at the right place at the right time, but I concluded there are a lot of women in the world who would tear your head off in bed if you gave them a chance. But nobody gives them a chance, their appetite is never discovered, and they live out their lives thinking that's all there is.
When I met her, Noel was undiscovered, by herself. She was totally normal, worked in an office, college degree, had an apartment with a roommate and so we always ended up at my place. She danced normal, dressed normal, talked normal, and then after we'd been in bed together a couple of time ... holy shit. She was multiorgasmic, or maybe there should be a word for her like "megaorgasmic," and she quickly found she loved adventure and experimenting with new sexual dimensions. Every week or so she would say, "I've never tried such-and-such" and so she'd want to try it, and in a few months I had one very skillful erotic goddess on my hands, ready willing and able to fulfill any dream or fantasy I might ever have had, anticipating ones I hadn't thought of yet.
I don't push it, but shit seems to happen to me that is different from what my friends tell me about. My theory is that it happens because I let it happen. I don't push, I allow. Women's sexuality is like water, if you offer it a container it will flow into it and fill it.
As we got to know each other Noel loved exploring her wild side with me, which was okay with me. Like, one of her favorite things was to blow me in the car in traffic. I'd be driving down the street with her head in my lap bobbing up and down until I blasted down her throat, which gave her a feeling of accomplishment. She got into a fun kind of playful exhibitionism when we went out, she would be talking to someone -- man or woman, didn't matter -- and find a reason to bend over and let them get a look at her tits. She had so much fun doing that that she decided she was going to stop wearing panties under her skirt. She still doesn't, when she's with me. And she wears skirts most of the time. Sometimes somebody in some random place will glance over to see Noel's bare pussy staring at them for a second -- it's not obvious, not a big thing, just a peek to make somebody's day. Sometimes she'll get up from a barstool or chair and there will be a wet spot there.
She was omnivorous and teased women as well as men. I was kind of watching, waiting for the time she would ask me if it would be okay if we had a threesome with some chick she'd just met, something new to try. But that never happened. A couple of times late at night she would make out with some woman in a bar, putting on a show groping each other, and they would laugh and that would be it. She was a one-man woman but what I'm saying is that she had a libido that ran hot and didn't really care what other people did, she enjoyed developing her own potential and exploring the possibilities. She felt I would protect her, and I encouraged her and made her feel safe, and so going out with her was always a surprise. Sometimes I would have to steer her away from trouble, but mostly she knew how to navigate some complicated situations; she made life amazing and wonderful, striding boldly into situations I would have avoided.
I can't say this is exactly typical, but while we're talking, let me tell you about one example of the kind of thing that would happen. One evening we had been dancing downtown and decided to take a walk on a pier. We live in a small beach town, the pier is mostly for fishing, we don't have a Ferris wheel and bumper cars and everything like you see in a big city. I happened to know that the pier is a nice place to take a girl. There's something about the wind in your face, the salt air, the waves and the stars, the isolation, that gets them in a good mood. It makes a nice memory for them to associate with you, you know what I mean? At night there is usually nobody out there, or the rare stray person contemplating the meaning of life. Our pier is not set up as a tourist attraction or entertainment center. It's open but it's not well lit and there's nothing to do out there.
So Noel and I were walking hand in hand. Almost no fishermen, nobody on the pier. She was telling me about two people at work who were having an affair.
"His office is right next to mine," she said. "I can hear them in there."
"That must make it hard to work." I said.
"Work? I don't work. I lean against the wall and listen. They talk a little bit, and I hear the sounds, and I can mostly figure out what they're doing in there."
"Well, don't leave me hanging -- what do they do?" I asked.
"Normally at first there is some rustling around, I figure they're making out or something. Then it changes, and I am almost sure that he gets her on his desk and eats her pussy."
"Wow, right in the office, huh?"
"No kiddin', right?" she said. "And this is Andrea, I've known her a long time, I'll tell ya, that girl likes her orgasms. Holy shit, one after the other."
"It sounds like her boyfriend knows what to do."
"Henry? Yeah, I he's got her number all right. He seems to keep going until she tells him to stop. It can be twenty or thirty minutes of nothin' but pussy-eatin'."
"Yay," I said. "Give that guy an award."
"I know, right?" Noel said. "I wish I'd known. Just jokin'." She paused. "Sorta." She giggled a little.
"Yeah," I laughed. "You missed your chance. Now Andrea's got him."
"I've listened to them five or six times now. After she's about orgasmed to death, she gets under his desk and sucks his dick."
"How do you know she's under his desk?" I asked.
"Oh, they talk about it. Joke about it, mainly. They obviously don't know how thin the walls are there. He's got some kind of pillow they put down for her knees."
"It's nice that she reciprocates after all those orgasms."
Noel looked up at me with a grin. "I wish I could watch them," she said. "At least I can listen through the wall."
"That's some good surveillance," I said.
"He lasts a long time. I can hear her in there gagging and slurping, and then they stop and it's quiet."
"What if somebody comes into your office while they're doing that? Does anybody else ever hear it?"
"Oh no," Noel said. "I close the door as soon as they start. I need to concentrate, you know?"
I haven't mentioned this, but while she was talking I had my arm around her, and my hand was on her breast, squeezing and pinching her nipple as we strolled on the deserted pier. By "give that guy an award" she had her blouse open, tits out. Sometimes she reached down to squeeze my hard-on through my jeans.
We were almost to the end of the pier. The good thing is that there is a little shack out there for supplies and stuff, with enough room all the way around for fishermen to cast. So if there's nobody on the pier you can walk out on the other side of the shack and do whatever you want, hidden from the world. The way the pier angled, you could see if anybody was coming. I had made a note of this and hoped to take advantage of it sometime.
This girl had me worked up and I was sure she was, too, so I was kind of steering us toward the end of the pier, where we could be alone. There was a bench at the far end of the shack that I figured we could stretch out on.
The night-time sea gulls were shrieking and the waves were banging against the pilings, and we walked out to the very end and looked out at the dark ocean. You can hear the boats out there, and sometimes you can see their lights through the mist. I turned Noel toward me and kissed her. Her tits were still out, and I kneaded them while she groped my hard-on.
"There's a little bench right over there," I said, nodding toward the shadows at the side of the shack. "Maybe we could get comfortable." I gave her nipple a little bite and led her toward the shadows behind the shack.
As we got close, I thought I saw some movement. I stopped and pulled Noel back and peered into the dark. It's just a dilapidated old shed with a rotting wooden bench, but pitch black at night. I waited and peered into the dark until I could make out a shape.
"I think there's somebody here already," I whispered.
"What are they doing?" Noel asked. I think she was wondering, like I was, if somebody had died out there, or been murdered, or passed out.
"I can't tell," I said.
Right then we heard a moan, and Noel pulled me tight. "What's that?"
I leaned forward. I could make out the shape of the sole of a tennis shoe, then two shoes. Somebody was kneeling, facing the shack.
"I think somebody is there," I said.
"A person?"
"Yeah." There was another long moan.
We took a very quiet step forward. Now we could see. Someone was on their knees in front of the bench, with a pair of legs draped over their shoulders.
"Oh!" Noel whispered, suppressing a laugh.
"Speaking of eating pussy," I said.
"Is that what they're doing?"
"I think so." We took another step forward. The legs over the shoulders connected to a body on the bench. A woman was sitting with her head thrown back, looking up into the sky, moaning occasionally. And now I could see that the one on their knees was a woman, too. It looked like a halter top tied at the waist.
