Michelle's Numbered Clouds

(Note to readers: The characters in sex acts are older than 18. This is about a woman and a man, cis-het, American, modern-day. And some square sheets of paper. Enjoy!)

***

Michelle found herself getting a little friendly towards Gordon.

Gordon wasn't looking to get close with anyone, but Michelle drew his attention.

Some people who signed up for the origami class at the park fieldhouse, did so just to meet other young singles. Michelle, however, was genuinely interested in paper-folding as a hobby. It looked to her like Gordon was also. But she picked up that he was getting interested in her. She liked that, but wasn't impelled to seek the Dreaded Next Level with him. Or even the First Level.

Not right away.

During the first session of the class, they hadn't noticed each other at all. As she arrived for the second session, Michelle was getting accustomed to this being what she did on a Tuesday evening. Still glancing at her phone, she took an open chair at the large rectangular table, across from where Ms. Toguri prepared to instruct her students. Michelle didn't look at anyone else. Her attention went from her phone to Ms. Toguri.

After showing the class how to fold a small square into a smaller flapping bird, Ms. Toguri strolled around the table, to watch, guide, and answer questions. Michelle set to work, looking intently at the paper at her fingertips.

Then Michelle glanced up, at the scatter of untouched squares and partial folds on the waxed wooden surface. She finally realized what this setting called to her mind. Thinking out loud, she said, "I used to work in a place with a table like this. Except it was web-enabled. This was supposed to be what work would be like now, everyone sitting there together, doing tech projects as a team. Except we all felt like we didn't have enough personal space. I left, and I think most other people did too."

To her left, Gordon chuckled. "I have a more traditional, respectful workplace. I get to sit in a cubicle!"

Michelle laughed, glancing to her left. She first appreciated his remark, then the sight of him. Plain features, somewhat scruffy beard... but behind the glasses, his eyes were bright. Michelle got from him an overall impression of wit, and fun.

Gordon tossed aside his attempted bird and said, "My fingers might be too thick and fumbly for this. I do better when I take normal printer paper and cut off the excess. So I can fold the eight-and-a-half by eight-and-a-half. But that leaves me with a lot of scraps of eight-and-a-half by two-and-a-half. I haven't figured out what to make out of those."

With a smile, Michelle said, "Papier-mache?"

Gordon enjoyed her smile. He'd only been slightly aware of her before now, but the smile seemed to go well with her apple cheeks, long straight brown hair, and thin-rimmed glasses. He also got the sense that she might be funny, as well as perceptive. Signing up for this class, he thought, may be a better idea than I realized. But before he could say anything else, Ms. Toguri's voice came from behind them.

"You can cut those scraps into three two-and-a-half squares," said the instructrix, "which will help train your fingers. Soon our three-inch squares will pose no problem for you."

Michelle looked up at her. "Sounds like you've given that advice before."

"Every class," said Ms. Toguri, resuming her stroll. "At least once."

Gordon offered Michelle his hand. "I'm Gordon."

"Michelle," she returned, clasping.

That was the most direct interaction they had that night. Each thought about giving the other some contact information. Each decided against coming on so strong.

***

That night, Michelle was too antsy to fall asleep. She couldn't stop thinking about Gordon.

This was a routine thing, when she got interested in a guy, in a certain way. From the nightstand drawer, she brought out her vibrator. With her free hand, she pushed down her boy shorts, squirming her hips to free her trunk. Her friskiness made her try to think of worst-case aspects of getting involved with Gordon.

Their brief interaction didn't tell Michelle enough about him. She asked herself, What is he like around his male friends? Does he believe in 'bros before hos?'

Gently she rubbed the rounded end of the cylinder along her outer labia. She felt herself moistening.

Her brain continued to run counter to her body. She demanded, What's his hookup experience? Does he start nice, but end up leaving scorched earth?

She turned on the vibrator to its lowest setting, and slid the side of the shaft slowly around her cleft. As she hoped, this distracted her from the memory of Gordon's eyes. This was now only about the process of dealing with her too-sensitive clitoris.

Her free hand sought to venture inside her t-shirt, and stroke her breasts. No, she insisted, pulling back her hand. That's too much like what I'd want... from him...

She stayed with the program. She eased the vibe near her clit hood, then away as she got too amped. For her, edging wasn't a bonus, it was a necessity. Too much stimulation would make her spasm, harshly, and give her no pleasure. She wanted to enjoy this, if at all possible, but mainly she wanted to get through the orgasm, and clear her head. Now, at age 27, she had come to terms with her body's idiosyncrasies.

Her excitement morphed to agitation. She lifted away the vibe and took a few slow breaths, telling herself, I need a distraction.

She squirmed out of her shorts, and spread her legs. Carefully avoiding her clit, she pushed the head of the vibe slowly into her vulva.

The feel of her inner muscles stretching, and the soft tissues sliding forth and back as she moved the tube, calmed her. The vibrations were barely noticeable. The main effect was from the feeling of being filled, which is what she wanted.

Soon, the agitation was replaced by tranquility. Only a hint of pleasure, but enjoyable.

With her free hand she hugged a pillow to her torso. This contact enhanced the feeling. Nice, she thought, but not enough to get to Cloud Nine. Maybe Cloud Five?

She was unable to increase the effect, but was satisfied with it. Soon Michelle set aside the pillow and withdrew her toy. She resumed the vibe's careful contact near her clitoris.

The next pass of the vibe, over the hood and then up towards her navel, spread heat through her trunk. Yes, she thought with a smile, it's working.

As she moved the vibrator, her own vibrations grew. They pulsed steadily through her pelvis, awakening her body's excitement. After two more vibe passes, her smooth shudders began. They didn't spike to the level of spasms. Dimly she heard what she knew was the frog-croak that her larynx insisted on expressing, as the heat suffused her.

Five breaths later, the orgasm faded.

Finally, she could sleep.

***

The next Tuesday, Michelle made a point of arriving a few minutes late. As she hoped, Gordon was already there. She saw, above a chair-back, the collar of a flannel shirt, and above it his neck and unruly hair.

The chair to his right was open.

She felt a flurry of overthinking. That'd be the same arrangement as before. Did he take that chair on purpose? Does he think, from there, he shows his 'good side?' Or does this have nothing to do with me?

The class had about fifteen students. There were usually at least eight empty chairs. Ms. Toguri was still spreading instruction sheets on the table.

Michelle let her general happiness take over. The class was fun, Tuesdays were now less boring. She strode to the chair next to Gordon and claimed it, smoothly setting the strap of her bag across its back.

"Hi!" she said, kinda to him, kinda to the whole group.

Gordon looked to his right. He was relieved to see that Michelle was smiling as she took the open chair. He thought with relief, So I didn't come across as a creep.

He had been on his own for several months. That seemed so long that he wasn't sure if he knew how to relate to a potential girlfriend. The closest he'd come to long-terms were with women he already knew. Michelle was a stranger.

He thought, She seems nice. But I don't seem to be good at reading people. He recalled that his relationships had started physically, but didn't progress emotionally. They had ended when small personal differences became large disagreements.

Ms. Toguri said, "Tonight, we'll begin with a frog." She looked directly at Gordon. "You can start with big paper, but you'll have to transpose the instructions yourself."

"Thank you," he said, seeing the older woman's tiny smile. He pulled a few eight-and-a-half squares from his backpack.

"We're all pulling for you!" said Michelle brightly. A chuckle rippled through the group.

"I couldn't do it without you," he said in a snarky tone, but with a smile.

Before the class, Michelle had fretted through low-level anxiety about Gordon. During the session itself, however, she grew more interested in paper-folding. There were a few moments of banter with Gordon, but also interaction with others. Michelle watched as her classmates folded, and listened as Ms. Toguri answered questions and gave advice. This is why I'm here, after all.

Using only three-inch squares, Michelle produced, on her second try, a frog she judged to be not-too-shabby. Gordon's first attempt, on an eight-and-a-half square, took him quite a while (with some revised folds), but looked like the illustration on the instruction sheet.

Gordon held it up high, and declared, "Mine's a bullfrog!" The size made it visible to everyone, and thus drew chuckles, and derisive slow applause.

Michelle gave him a wicked grin, and held up an unused three-inch square. "Would you care to join the rest of us?"

Gordon's heart raced. Is she enjoying this? Because of me? This was only one of about twenty potential interpretations that flickered in his mind, but it's the one that spurred him to action.

"Challenge accepted!" He grabbed the small square, and sneered in mock arrogance.

She laughed, and returned to her second attempt.

Several minutes later, on the table, Michelle's non-shabby frog faced Gordon's small-square attempt.

"Y'see," said Gordon, "mine is an ancestor of yours. Paleontologists have determined that my frog went extinct."

"Ah," said Michelle, examining his frog. "So, this maybe-amphibian didn't make it through the Permian Epoch? Because of those... are they supposed to be legs?"

Gordon shook his head forlornly at his creature. "Exactly. Evolution was so harsh."

By this time, all of their classmates were laughing. Even Ms. Toguri was smiling, while shaking her head.

When the session ended, Gordon steeled himself with a deep breath. Then he looked at Michelle and said, "Would you like to meet for coffee sometime?"

"Sure!" she piped up at once. "How about Thursday?"

As they worked out where and when, Michelle thought, He's not just funny, he can laugh at himself! That's a green flag... but I need more of those.

As he hefted his pack and she shouldered her strap, they heard a classmate's voice from out in the hallway: "Get a room!"

They both noticed, but didn't let on.

***

The coffee 'date' went well enough. They shared basic information about themselves. They bantered a bit, smiling at their self-deprecating jests. But there was tension between them.

She thought, He made the move to get us here. If I just say, 'Well, see you Tuesday,' am I brushing him off? She now felt okay being at the first level with him. She hoped to stay there, for now, and not reverse course.

With an effort, she said, "You're free on the weekends, right? There's a movie I've been hoping to catch."

She was relieved that he not only responded positively, but picked up on her mood. He asked if she preferred to meet at the theater. She said she did, silently glad that he didn't try to steamroll this into a much bigger date.

Gordon concluded, She doesn't want this to go fast. But, I guess, she does want it to go.

During the movie, she put a hand on the armrest between them. Gently, he put his hand on hers. They shared a smile over this, but for a while their hands stayed together.

As they were leaving, she asked, "Is there someplace where you like to hang out?"

He said there was. They ride-shared over there.

The half-hour spent in this laid-back bar gave Michelle another green flag: Gordon's friends were generally witty, pleasant, and fun to be around.

In the next ride-share, they didn't try for further physical contact, but their atmosphere was relaxed. As she left the car, Michelle felt okay about saying, "See you Tuesday."

In her apartment, Michelle stripped nude before getting into bed. She concocted a mild fantasy that put Gordon there with her. As always, she kept the vibe away from her clitoris, then pumped the dildo rapidly inside her, while she squeezed a breast and pinched a nipple. Then she grabbed the pillow tightly against her torso, breathing hoarsely. She exulted, Cloud Seven!

When she brought the vibe out, her hand shook as she tried to work it near her clit hood. This made the actual orgasm more work than she expected. When she was finished, however, a hint of the pleasure from the dildo drive still lingered within her sex. I am so ready for a nice fuck!

***

At the origami class, Gordon and Michelle behaved more like the other students, but still sat together, and bantered. Gordon had a hunch, however, that he should make the next move, so Michelle wouldn't feel pressured to do so.

When the class ended, he asked her quietly, "Could we, like, have a talk? About us?"

She gave him a sharp look, not smiling. But before he could walk it back, she said, "Yeah, we should, I guess." After a breath, she added, "Is it okay, on the phone? Tomorrow night?"

"Uh, yeah, Eight o'clock?"

As antiquated as it seemed, it was much easier for them to do this by a voice call. They weren't in the same place, and they simply sent and received sound. Yet this struck them as more personal than texting. It allowed for a little banter, which they were coming to enjoy very much.

They opened up about themselves, to a greater extent than they had before. Each learned that the other had never been deeply committed to someone else, and wasn't eager to change that. They agreed that they enjoyed each other's company, and were willing to embark on what they thought of as... dating.

He said that he had no problem with her preference to take things slowly.

They agreed on a dinner-and-a-show for the coming weekend.

When the call ended, Michelle flopped back in her easy chair. She felt exhausted, and found that to be ridiculous.

After a few slow breaths, she summarized her situation.

There's going to be sex. Eventually. I probably won't be in any danger, from him. I just need a little more time to feel better about it.

She wasn't turned on. She didn't expect to need a session with the dildo. Good, she thought, at least my lady-bits aren't ridiculous.

A few minutes later, she decided that her head was clear enough for her to write an email to her sister:

<>

She sent it, wondering with a smile how soon Kathleen would pump her for details about the 'guy.'

***

The next date went well. So did the one after that. Their conversations ventured into the realm of their immediate families, their jobs, their living situations, and their hobbies other than origami. Their banter continued to amuse them, and showed that it arose from their wits in the moment, and not stock phrases they had memorized.

Again at the coffee joint, for a non-alcoholic nightcap, she gave him a serious look and said, "Do you believe in the maxim that a third date must always end in sex?"

Trying not to sound glum, he said, "No."

"Neither do I," she said. Then she grinned. "But I'd like this one to end that way!"

He relaxed, as tension fled him. He stuck his pinky finger in his mouth and yanked it to the side, to show that she'd snagged him.

She laughed and applauded. "That was terrible of me! Sorry-not-sorry! I've put you through a lot, Gordon, and I'm so glad you've been patient. Now I'll call my sister and take you to my place."

***

Michelle felt almost giddy as she led him up the stairs to the third floor. "The final labor of Hercules is the ascent of this mountain!"

"Think I can manage it," he said, three treads behind her. She couldn't see his face, but knew his voice tone well enough to think that he said it with his little droll smile.

Her weight-shifting on the stairs had the usual effect on her hips. Almost overcome with fun, she added a little to the sway, wondering if he was a butt guy.

She got him past the threshold, and closed the door. With one hand she turned the lock, with the other she secured the back of his head and drew his lips to hers. Her heart began to race, as she felt his hands slide to her back and pull her torso to his.

For her, this moment always felt nice: Kissing a man for the first time, hearing his breath deepening, moving her fingers to sense the skin covered by his clothes.

"I have condoms," she murmured, hoping to finish the boilerplate early. "Can we skip oral, this time?" She'd blow him if necessary, but worried about his unfamiliar mouth near her clit.

He ended a kiss at her ear and said, "Sure. I have condoms too."

She smiled. "If that's your preferred brand, go with it. As long as they're sturdy."

"Never had a problem yet," he said, half-gasping as he pulled her shirt free of her jeans.

He worked on her bra hooks. This gave her time to shove down her jeans and underwear, getting the waistbands out of view. Michelle doubted that Gordon, or any other man at this stage, would think she looked fat, or care if he did think so. But this twitch existed in her mind. She thought that a cinched-in trunk wasn't a good look for anyone. Nude and unfettered, she knew that her curves looked smooth.

Gordon moved his hands inside her undone bra, around her ribs, to the sides of her breasts. Gently but firmly he squeezed together what he found to be handfuls. His dork was already thick, now it stiffened.

"Despite your complaint about how they fold paper," she cooed, "your hands seem very deft now." Then she whimpered, as his thumbs touched her nipples.

Gordon's index fingers traced the arcs of her areolas. He felt the rise of her nipples as he grazed their edges. Then he was jolted, as her tongue drove into his mouth. Her hands, deftly, undid his belt, button, and zipper. She yanked down all fabric, and his cock flipped free.

A few seconds of mutual awkwardness led to one of her hands cupping his junk and another squeezing his butt. When he slid a hand down from her bosom to her belly, she said, "Bedroom!" and backed away.

He followed her lead. The remaining clothes were ditched. His dowsing rod spurred him towards her retreating form. She's thicc, he thought, gazing at the dimples above her jiggling tush. Never thought that was my type. But this might be more than physical.

She flopped onto the bed on her side, and quickly said, "Condom now, please."

Which made him grab up his pants and dig through a pocket.

By the time he was sheathed, she had doffed her glasses, and worked two fingers inside her vulva to spread her juice to her outer labia. With a look of desire, she said, "Please join me. And I do mean, join!"

As he clambered next to her, she took one of his hands in hers. When she licked his fingers, he took it as a turn-on, which he liked. She had a different reason for grabbing that hand clear of her crotch. His remaining hand was enough to guide his glans into her moist cleft.

She shifted around to engulf the rest of his prick, and guided him to get on top. Then she gripped his back and resumed the deep kiss. She was relieved that he filled her without the kind of clit contact that could have sabotaged her joy.

And, yes, his cock felt very good in there. He began a slow drive. To her further relief, this didn't advance to her cervix.

All of the sensations delighted her: The kiss, the weight of his chest on her breasts, even the feel of his sparsely hairy legs on her shaved ones. Also, the mild stretching of her vaginal walls, his bulk as it widened her ring muscle, back and forth. If only it can last, she thought. Maybe I should ease up on the kissing?

She did that, but it seemed as though Gordon remained steady. She read him as not overly excited. So, not prone to prematurity? Maybe a potential friend-with-benefits?

Gordon tried to gauge Michelle's response to his effort. She writhed her torso a little, and put a leg over his, so he thought maybe he was getting somewhere. She had seemed really eager, and didn't ask for foreplay, so he hoped that he could light up her board just from fucking. He wanted her to be happy about doing this, but--as with every one of the few women he had bedded--he wanted her to be happy about him, about his skill as a lover.

He sped up his drive, though this made it tougher for him to hold back. And I definitely have to hold back, he demanded to himself. Don't disappoint this cute, smart woman! Let her be willing to take me again!

She noticed the change. It didn't make her feel better or worse, it was the same nice thickness. She hoped, though, that he wasn't this close to finishing. Should I ask him to slow down? The lack of information was sometimes a problem in first fucks. Does he need this to keep the erection?

She said nothing. Just enjoy it while it lasts, Michelle. Definitely Cloud Six already.

It did last, though, despite his quickening. She did enjoy it. But she wasn't sure if he did.

Other lovers had shown some strain when banging her. Gordon, however, seemed to exceed them. He set his palms on either side of her, and straightened his arms. His torso arced upward, limiting body contact to their abdomens. She saw him squint. Then his neck corded. Then he gritted his teeth.

Warmth spread through her trunk, her torso, her limbs. Cloud Nine! Oh yeah, I've been missing this!

Gordon saw her smile widen, as her eyes closed. He heard what sounded like both a hum and a purr. She must be getting close! Stay with it, boy!

Her head rolled slowly on the pillow. She savored her plateau of pleasure, for enough time that she was ready for him to maximize his own fun.

Minutes passed. She felt herself drying. Her fun was ending.

Still he pumped, now grunting.

Oh no, she realized, he's waiting for me!

For the first time ever, Michelle had a lover who didn't just finish when he was ready.

I have to fake one!

She moaned, and jerked her legs, and dug fingernails at his hips. She even went all Meg Ryan with "Yes! Yes!"

Gordon put his pistoning in top gear, and at last, cut loose. He sent a gargly cry towards the wall above her head.

Relieved, exhausted, he slumped on Michelle, many of his muscles gone slack. He felt the last twitch and dribble within the condom. What a workout! Is it always going to be like this, with her?

Gordon shifted his mode from She-Cums-First to She-Doesn't-Get-Pregnant. He flexed his legs to lift himself from her belly. With finger and thumb at the base of the condom, he withdrew his putz.

She slid onto her side, and embraced him. Hoping to forestall any detailed discussion, she murmured at his ear, "That was so great! Thank you!"

She thought this seemed to work. With limited breath he replied, "Thank you!"

Neither one felt comfortable about overnighting. They were, however, comfortable about origami talk, as they dressed.

She kissed him at the door and said, "We have homework due on Tuesday."

He showed her the droll smile. "I'll see what I can do with two-and-a-half."

The moment the door closed between them, she almost crumpled on her feet. I faked! That's the same as lying to him!

She was riven with self-loathing, such as she had never known before. How can I fix this?

***

The check-in phone call with her sister didn't help. Chuckling, Kathleen said, "You think you're the only woman who ever faked one?"

"It's a terrible thing to do!" Michelle paced in her bedroom, which she now thought of as The Scene Of My Crime. "How can I admit it to him?"

"You don't. Let his ignorance remain blissful."

"I can't just let--" She froze in mid-pace. "Wait. You think it's okay? I mean, do you..."

Kathleen laughed. "Milt and I are very happy, Chelle. Think about all the things spouses have to do for the sake of their happiness."

***

On Tuesday, Michelle tried to be her usual hobby-fun self, but inside she was a mess, trying to decide what to do. At the end of the class, she asked Gordon to go with her to an ice cream parlor.

He agreed, while thinking that this wouldn't be fun. She wouldn't repeat that joke from the coffee joint. This must really be serious.

As she hoped, there were only adults in the parlor, this late on a weeknight. And only a few of those. Michelle still guided Gordon to a table far from anyone else. Quietly she said, "There's something I have to tell you."

Worst cases crashed through his mind. Too soon for her to think she's pregnant. Is she married? Engaged? Terminally ill? Regretting having taken me to bed?

"Go ahead," he said slowly, halfway wanting her not to go ahead.

She smiled, but still didn't look happy. "I'm so glad about last Saturday. It was just what I'd hoped for. It felt wonderful."

She paused. He said, "Good to hear."

She leaned closer, and further lowered her voice. "That was the best sex I ever had."

He couldn't fight off a smile, despite still being worried. "Great."

"That's why I don't want you to feel bad about this."

His smile vanished. "About what?"

"That I didn't have an orgasm."

He jolted, eyes wide.

"I faked one. I'm so sorry, Gordon."

"But... it was the best...?"

"It was! I just don't have orgasms that way."

He slumped, and looked downcast.

She went on, "Look, I really liked what we did! I hate myself, for lying to you, but you kept at it, and it was starting to hurt. It seemed like this was the best way to finish, so you could feel good. But, can you understand why I'm telling you this now?"

She licked her lips, searching out his expression as he met her eyes.

In a low mutter he said, "Because I'm a loser, and you don't want me around anymore."

"No!" she said, bouncing in her seat, hands fluttering. "It's because I care about you! I'd like us to, um, keep, getting to know each other. And, yeah, it's physical, too! I hope we can, um--" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "--get together, again. The way it is for me, um, sex can feel good, with no orgasms. And with you, it felt really good! Not just, um, inside, but the way you kissed, and held me. Until you went overboard, with the pounding."

His look was both harsh and baffled. He said, "So you think I can't make you cum?"

Frustrated, she rolled her eyes at the stamped-tin ceiling. "I don't want you to try. Just be the kind of lover you were before. I, um, don't want to say any more about this, here. Can you come over to my place, Friday?"

"Sure." Then, after a breath, "Is that all of it? What you wanted to tell me?"

She nodded.

"So, you're okay? There's nothing wrong?"

Now she saw his concern for her. Thrilled, she wanted to leap into his lap and kiss him. "Yes, Gordon, I'm very okay! And now I'm going to get a banana split!"

Her smile, the biggest and most open he had seen from her that night, allowed him to relax. "Hot fudge sundae for me," he said with a chuckle.

***

When she opened her door, Gordon read the room, and its only occupant. She gave him a little smile and waved him inside, but didn't appear eager to get physical. He let her direct him to a living room chair. She had made coffee, and brought him a cup.

He had to clear his throat before saying, "So, do you think it's, um, okay to tell a guy about this?"

She took a slow swallow of the coffee. The strength of it helped. "I think it's okay to tell you. Because I lied to you, and I'm hoping you can understand. Are you okay, hearing about woman stuff?"

He gave her that droll smile. "From you, I'll deal with it."

She grinned, starting to get warm for him. But she thought that might distract her, and she needed to get through this. She had rehearsed in advance what to say, and felt calm about it.

She set down the coffee. "Do you know that most women don't have orgasms, from regular sex? A lot of guys don't know that, I guess because they've never talked to a gynecologist." She laughed. "You haven't, have you?"

He chuckled. "Nope."

"I've been doing extra reading about this, because of how things went with us. For a long time, people didn't think women had orgasms, or even pleasure from sex. Sex was just something a woman, a wife, put up with, because she obeyed her husband, and thought she ought to have kids. Then, it seems like the pendulum swung the other way. Some women said that they did have orgasms, and other women said they'd like that to happen. So what happened was, men got the idea that if they gave a woman an orgasm, he was a good lover, and he could show off about that to other guys.

"The thing is, the guy couldn't know for sure that she came. Women could fake it, if they wanted the guy to feel good--or, just to get it over with. Sometimes a woman might hide that she came, if she didn't want to give a guy the satisfaction. So there can be a really high noise-to-signal ratio. It was only when women started talking to gynecologists, and they asked the right questions, that they found out that most women don't climax from penetration alone.

"When I started having sex, I didn't have orgasms. First, I thought the guy didn't know how to do it. But when it still didn't happen, and with different guys, I thought there was something wrong with me. But, no, my gynie said I was fine, totally healthy. When I told her it felt good, in a way that nothing else did, she said that was fine too. A healthy vagina likes to get filled up. The nerve endings in there, and the muscles, respond that way. Like with so much else in the world, some women like getting filled more than others do."

Saying this reminded her of Gordon filling her. She smiled, recalling how it felt. "I really like it! It gets me all warm, and elevated somehow, like every touch gives deep pleasure. I think of it as moving towards Cloud Nine, where everything is thrilling, but peaceful. The gynie said I should enjoy it, and not insist on more, if it didn't happen. Sometimes the sex doesn't get me all the way there, but even something like Cloud Three feels pretty good."

She realized, then, what her level of experience implied. And what he might think of that.

She asked, "You okay?"

He had been stock still. Now, he cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah." He swigged some coffee, maybe a little too much. "So, what we did, that was what you like? In, um, an encounter, with a guy?"

That relieved her. "I'm so glad you phrased it that way. If you're trying not to slut-shame me, thank you. But you should know that I accepted myself, a long time ago. I like having sex with men. But I only get involved with one man at a time. It's fun for a while, then we go our separate ways. Usually, the guy gets more serious than I am. Anyway, that's beside the point.

"What I like best is pretty much what we've done. A face-to-face embrace, naked, kissing while we bang. That can limit the guy, sometimes, because he might want to pump hard into me the whole time. Ideally, we stay slow and sweet for a while. Then he pumps, and cums. But after that, I like some naked huggy-kissy."

Gordon gave her a serious look. "Did the... other men know that you didn't cum?"

She shrugged. "I didn't tell them. I enjoyed it, in my own way, and they could see that. A few guys might have wondered, but they never challenged me."

He said, "So... you never cum at all?"

Michelle opened her mouth, then froze. She said, "Give me a second, okay?"

She sipped her coffee, gazing at Gordon. He's nice, she thought. I really like him. But, are we really close enough, for me to go into this? What she did with the vibrator, carefully enticing her clitoris, had become a private matter, separate from sex with another person. It was so private, that she hadn't thought to rehearse this subject.

Finally she said, "This is, uh, something I've never talked about. Except to the gynecologist. I'm only telling you because, um, of what I did to you. I'll say this much. I do have orgasms, but, um, only from what I do myself. By myself. Can I leave it at that?"

Gordon saw that while she had been calm and confident before--admitting to having had multiple lovers, and describing pleasure in her vagina--now she looked unsteady, and vulnerable. "Of course," he said, "Didn't mean to go out of bounds."

She saw again his concerned look from the ice cream parlor. That made her feel even better than the moments of his droll smile. "It's okay," she said. Then, with a saucy look, "Since you're here, is there anything else you'd like to do?"

Seeing the relaxed, happy Michelle flipped his switch. But his first reflex was to banter. "Yeah, I've found this diagram for an origami mastodon. You got any paper?"

She rolled her eyes, "Again with the extinct! Someday you'll have to fold something in the modern world!"

All of her paper remained on her desk. Soon their clothes were on the floor.

When his depth and speed returned her to Cloud Nine, she murmured in his ear, "Oh yeah, just like that. So nice." She nibbled the lobe, then added, "You're my Nine Man."

"You're not faking, are you?"

"Never again!" Then she giggled. "Unless you're into that."

"My ego demands feeding."

"Hoooooh" she warbled, shaking herself and the bed. "Oh, sweet mystery of life, at last I've foouund yooou!"

"Very convincing."

"Enough of that, I almost shoved you out. Back to work, stud. Feel free to blast."

After the naked huggy-kissy, she didn't actually kick him out, but he got the sense that she was ready for him to leave. They shared a clothed huggy-kissy at the door, and then he headed home.

What lingered in his mind was her statement about parting ways: "The guy gets more serious than I am."

He thought he might be getting serious about her.

***

There were times when she thought she might be settling in, comfortably, with Gordon. It seemed like stress-free fun.

There were other times, entirely within her own head, when she couldn't seem to understand what she was thinking, or feeling.

Is this the longest I've gone with anybody? She didn't think it was. But previous partners hadn't made this much of an impression on her.

On a Monday night before an origami class, she tried for a get-it-over-with orgasm. It eluded her. After the fourth try, she threw the vibrator across the bedroom. Her annoyance spiked further from the knowledge of how carefully she'd have to clean up the vibe.

Why should I keep this a secret from him? Her frustration rose higher than her privacy. Damnit! If he asks, I'll tell him!

***

For their next tryst, he talked her into going to his apartment. He spent the day before, straightening it up.

As he and Michelle were about to leave the bar where she hung out sometimes, she made a point of having him wait in silence while she called her sister. Michelle ensured that Kathleen learned and wrote down the address of Gordon's place.

When he had them seated in his small living room, he asked, "Can we talk some more?"

He saw her expression as neutral, at best. She said, "About what?"

He hoped his smile looked easygoing. "Other fun things we could do for each other."

Quickly, she took the initiative. "Okay. What else do you like a lover to do for you?"

It flashed through his mind that this might be her way of finding deal-breakers. If a guy wanted anal, or to dominate, would this be her excuse for deciding that he was 'more serious' than she was?

If this was bait, he didn't rise to it. Still hoping to learn what more he could do for her, he chose the most mainstream thing she could do for him.

"I'm a guy," he said. "You can probably guess the obvious. But I can live without it."

To him, her smile looked calm. "I could give you a few licks. But only as a prelim, okay? I'd hate to waste a good erection."

"That's cool." He took a breath. "And you? Could I do something similar?"

She smirked. "Are you still trying to get on the Michelle Orgasm Scoreboard?"

He blurted, "No, it's just..." Then he relaxed, and smiled. "Well, maybe a little."

"I like your attitude," she said, beaming. "But, no thanks." She took a moment. "I've done a lot of thinking about this, and about, uh, why I didn't want to talk about it to you. Now, I can explain, if you like."

He leaned forward in his chair. "I'm listening."

"I'm one of those women who needs a vibrator, to get an orgasm. But with the vibe only on the outside, and not too close. My, um, clitoris, is really sensitive, and not in a good way. It never helped, to rub it during sex with a guy. Sometimes, it made things worse, and took me right out of the moment. There can be these huge spasms, and they really hurt. So I decided that my clit shouldn't be involved in partner sex. That's why I've, um, made sure you never touched it. That could take me off the clouds, and crash me to the ground." Her smile grew. "I really like your kissing. But not there, okay?"

"Okay."

"I still try for an orgasm, now and then, but only when I'm alone. If I've gone a few days without, and I'm feeling the lack, I can spend about five minutes with the vibe, carefully. If it works, it feels good, but mainly it relieves built-up tension. Then I can get on with my life."

She paused, then said, "Are we done talking?"

He'd gained no further knowledge of how to please her, but he smiled. "We can be, I guess."

"Good." She parted her lips, and slowly tongued over them.

Despite his declared ability to live without it, his eyes popped, and he said, "Woaahh!"

That kindled her to naughty fun. She bounded up, knelt in front of his chair, and slid her glasses up above her hairline. I can play with him, like a grown-up! It feels safe!

He gawked at her, but was functional enough to unfasten his pants. She yanked the waistbands of both his garments, also hauling his trunk towards her.

As she shoved fabric down to his ankles, she demanded, "Spread those knees!" Her half-giggle ruined the dominatrix effect.

His prick was already erect, waggling above his pelvis. She was surprised to realize that this was her closest look at it. It was just a penis, but it was his penis, so--

A tiny alarm went off in her hindbrain. She didn't understand it, but she was enjoying this too much for it to concern her.

She drooped her tongue over her lower lip, and licked slowly up his underside.

It twitched. He moaned.

In fun, she went wide-eyed and batted her lashes.

He gasped, and twitched harder.

She fingered his balls, and felt them stiffen.

She got moist, and warm.

Her desire began to outstep her fun.

She closed her lips around his glans, slid them down to take in about half of him. She pump-sucked, rotating one hand at his base, spreading her other fingers all around his stones and taint.

Cloud Two? Already? From THIS?

After three more rapid sucks, she pulled away, panting. She snatched at her clothes. "Damn! Fuck me!"

He reached down for a pants pocket, and toppled off the chair. When he got his wallet out, he tried to get his feet under him.

"No! Here!" she wailed, rolling onto her back to get her legs in the air, and drag away her jeans.

"Uh, okay," he wheezed, tearing the foil from the condom.

Whatever position he might have had in mind, she clambered naked on top of him while he was still rolling down the rubber.

Only after she straddled his trunk, and inserted his pole in her quim, and gained the filling thrill that took her at least to Cloud Five, did she notice the rest of the sensations: Her bare knees on the hardwood floor, her glasses bobbing on her forehead, her lover still dressed from the waist up. And giving her a look of adoration.

Through his glasses.

Fun bubbled up in her. She brought her glasses into their proper position and cheered, "Eight-eyed sex!"

That got a laugh from him. "Is that a thing?"

"It is now!"

The sight of her--bespectacled, nude, happy--was more than the greatest feast ever for his eyes. It showed him the depth of his sorrow if she decided to part ways.

He tried to shake that off. "As long as there's still two of these," he said, his hands rising to her jouncing breasts.

His squeeze, firm but smooth, reminded her that she was cowgirling, something she rarely did. Her torso upright, in full view. Old worries about her fleshiness still arose now and then. But this time, she was around Cloud Seven or Eight, and wanted more than his hands there.

She leaned down, while still pistoning. "You want to do oral? How about on these?"

She stretched enough to get her nates to his face, slowly placing her belly on his to prevent clit contact. His lips and tongue, on her left nipple and areola, lofted her smoothly to Cloud Nine.

***

After he jizzed, they stayed on the floor for huggy-kissy, with him finally matching his nudity to hers. Their glasses rested on the floor, next to their bodies.

He said, "You look really cute in your glasses."

With a grin she said, "I know! Sorry-not-sorry if that sounds arrogant. I really work on the look, like keeping the hair long. It looks good straight."

He ran fingers through a few strands. "Especially fanned out over my naked chest."

Then he cleared his throat. "I'm a guy, so I have to ask this." He took a breath, and looked into her eyes. "Do I... fit okay?"

She side-eyed him. "Yes, you're a guy. I know that because of the fine object between your legs. Does every man worry about crap like this?"

"I've never conducted a survey, but my hunch is, probably."

"Then they should continue to worry about this in quiet desperation. I'll give you a pass, and answer your pathetic question. Your shlong, in length and girth, is right in the range of what can make me happy. A little less would also be fine. A little more might be fine. There was one guy who was so long that he hit my cervix. It hurt like hell. That's the only time I've ever forced a coitus to go interruptus. He was a pretty nice guy, but he just wouldn't back off. Literally."

"Got it. So what I need to do is make sure it lasts?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd made that clear. Just think of me as a no-orgasm partner. Helping me get to Cloud Nine can make No-O Michelle happy. There aren't any clouds above that. Trust the cliche." Then she kissed deep, to ensure that she had the last word.

***

The last session of the origami class devolved into something of a party. The only assignment was for each student to fold a keepsake for someone else. To forestall declarations that they should get a room, Gordon and Michelle agreed quietly that each should fold something for a classmate they barely knew.

As the class ended, Gordon hoped that he sounded nonchalant when he asked Michelle, "You up for a trip to the ice cream parlor?"

"Sure," she said. He hoped she hadn't picked up an undercurrent from him.

She did pick that up, however, when he guided her to a table away from other people.

He said, "Michelle... I'm, uh, getting serious about you. I'd like you to tell me what you're going to do about that."

She felt her pulse throb in her temples. She produced a half-laugh. "Can't we just keep being frivolous?"

"I like frivolous," he said, "but the serious part is there too. Does this mean that you'll want to... part ways, with me?"

Her face tightened. "I, no, I don't want that." She inhaled a shaky breath. "But that might be what has to happen."

"Why?"

"Because of me. The way I am." She blinked, and sniffled. "How can I expect a man, to spend his whole life, with someone he thinks he can't satisfy? And you do think that, don't you? On some level? Despite what I keep telling you, about my goddamn clouds?"

"I believe you, Michelle--"

"Do I have to spend our life together hiding away, for orgasms by myself? Or, worse," she rasped, "faking them with you?"

"What about, if," Gordon said, then had to work around a gulp. "If that man loves you, Michelle?"

Then, the only sound came from far away, behind the counter. A milkshake in progress.

She was terrified that he might not mean it. And also that he might.

Finally she said, "I can be okay, by myself. I probably won't be able to find men for fun, when I'm an old hag. But the future, alone, doesn't mean anything to me now. All I know is, the what-if love you're talking about just doesn't seem possible, if a part of me can't be what the lover wants."

"Is it any different," he said, speeding up in desperation, "if your lover already knows? That there's nothing for you to hide? Or fake?"

Her eyes widened. How did it get to this point? she wondered. We're both on the brink of being miserable, all because of my freakin' clit!

Yet she said, "I guess it could be different. But, I don't know, if I really believe... your what-if."

He wanted to say, to proclaim, that he loved her. But he feared the effect that might have on her. Would it make her kick me out of her life, forever?

"I have a request," he said, fighting down trembles. "Can you hold off on parting ways, for a while? I won't take back what I said about getting serious, but I won't go further. Not now. But are you willing for us to stay, um, frivolous, with each other?"

She faced him in silence for a few moments. Finally she said, "All right. I'll think about it. What you've said. Give me a few days, okay? But, will you think about what I've said?" She raised her voice. "And be honest with yourself! About spending your life with No-O Michelle! That's the only way you can be honest with me!"

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thank you. Yes, I will."

She looked more relaxed, but she didn't smile. She picked up her coat and shoulder bag. "I don't feel very frivolous right now."

He stood, but didn't try to hug her. "I understand."

***

She sat back from her desk. Leaving the glare of her laptop put her in darkness. She was surprised to find that her research had lasted well into the night.

She took a breath, and assessed what she'd learned. I won't run the risk, she thought, of making things worse. She had looked into whether her clit sensitivity could be reduced, or managed, through desensitizing lubricants. These substances had not been shown to address her condition, and could be harmful if they got inside her vulva.

She had even considered a low dose of a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. SSRIs were known to cause reduced sensitivity, and in her case that might help. She had never brought this up with her gynecologist. But from what Michelle saw online, that kind of diagnosis and treatment involved a lot of guesswork, and no clear likelihood of success. It might be worth a try, someday. But Michelle didn't want to change her brain chemistry on a whim.

She refused even to consider surgical alteration.

He already knows, she thought.

He says he's serious.

And... am I, too?

All of her flags for Gordon were green. Not just physically, but intellectually.

On the brink of a sniffle, she thought, And emotionally?

She remembered the alarm that went off, deep in her mind, when she started to fellate him. The close-up of his penis, looking like so many others. Yet it seemed more important to her, because... it was Gordon's.

Because HE is important to me. Because... I'm serious about him.

She pondered what might be the best of the worst cases. Lots of people have short-term relationships that are just fine, and they're okay when they part ways.

A chuckle overrode what might have become a sob. Maybe we'll get on each other's nerves, after a year or so. Breaking up then would be good for our mental health.

She voice-called him. He picked up.

Her key statement was, "If you can come over, there's something I'd like to try. Don't expect anything other than frivolity."

***

They agreed on Tuesday, a night they now had free.

When she opened the door he gave her a friendly smile, not the droll one, which usually resulted from their banter. "Hi," he said brightly.

"Hi," she said, stepping back, not smiling.

She had them sit in her chairs. He expected this, despite what she'd said about frivolity.

She said, "I have no idea if this can work, and I may want to stop, so don't get your hopes up." She took a breath. "And it's probably unwise to think that there can be a physical solution to an emotional issue. So first, I want to go back to what I said before. Have you really thought about this, honestly? I've thought about it, and what I've always felt, is still true. If I ever get involved with someone, it would be with that person, only. I won't ever be poly, or open. And that would have to be true of my partner, too.

"What I'm saying, Gordon," she said, voice raised a bit, "is that you can't be my soulmate, and also have some other woman who orgasms from sex with you. Is that a deal-breaker?"

"No," he said firmly, no longer with any kind of smile. "If that was your tactic to get rid of me, it didn't work."

She nodded. "The real issue still stands. The way my body works, or doesn't. I'm still not convinced that you can deal with that, in the long term. I don't know what you can do to convince me."

He had tried to stay in her comfort zone, but now he was frustrated. I said I wouldn't go further, but she hasn't given me any other choice.

"If you insist on us parting ways," he said, hauling his backpack up from the floor, "I have something for you to remember me by." He unzipped the pack, and reached inside. "Or to throw away, if you'd rather not remember."

He held out to her a box that showed silvery gleams from the ceiling light.

Puzzled, she took it. Her touch confirmed that it was stiff paper. "You made this," she said, recalling a class assignment that involved multiple pieces of paper.

"That was the easy part," he muttered.

She opened the box.

Inside was an origami frog, folded from shiny green paper.

He said, "That was my seventeenth try. It took me hours to get something decent."

She picked it up gently. "A three-inch square," she said, marveling.

"My desire for you is sexual," he said, "but my feeling for you goes way beyond that."

She almost crumpled in her chair. A sob escaped her throat.

He stood in reflex, leaning towards her.

"It's not fair!" she cried. "You can't make me feel this way! I, I was ready to live on my own, have a little fun with sex, and move on. This, it, makes no sense!" She sobbed. "I've never let anyone think he's my boyfriend. I, I never even slept with anyone overnight! Even when I thought I wanted to get serious! It hurt, but I stayed in charge, and got back to me-time!"

I ruined everything! he thought. Yet he knew that this might have to happen eventually. He couldn't keep going like this, waiting for her to decide he was too serious.

"You want me to be honest," said Gordon. "Well, here it is. Before you kick me out, I'm going to say this. I love you, Michelle. And there's no what-if."

She met his eyes. Her thoughts tried to clarify. Can it be... that I'm actually HAPPY about this?

She remembered her alarm at maybe becoming serious about him.

Now, somehow, that didn't seem so bad.

She remembered how pleased she was, when she'd seen his concern for her.

I didn't see my reaction as a red flag. So maybe No-O Michelle doesn't have to be grumpy?

She looked again at the frog, turning it this way and that. "I'm impressed," she said. Then she chuckled, remembering their fun in the origami class. "But then, you've always had a pretty low bar."

He dropped back into the chair, relieved. Putting on his snarky voice, he said, "I appreciate your honesty."

She smiled at him. "That's what this is all about. Honesty." The smile grew to a grin. "So, maybe the emotional stuff doesn't have to depend on the physical stuff. And the physical stuff can just be frivolous."

She stood, and began unbuttoning her blouse.

The foreplay, a nude huggy-kissy on her bed, took only a few minutes. He was erect almost at once, but she needed a little longer to feel receptive, because of what she wanted them to do next.

She broke the kiss, and said, "Knee-stand behind me." She rolled and leaned, to open her nightstand drawer.

Confused, he watched her get on all fours. And saw that she had, in her right hand, a tapered light-blue cylinder.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Same entrance as always. Sorry-not-sorry, if that's disappointing."

"Uh, no, that's fine," he blurted, unwrapping a condom.

He put one hand on her butt and, with the other, gently slid his glans between her labia.

"Yes," she said, "like that."

He eased in all the way. She didn't flinch, so he concluded that in this approach, he still didn't touch her cervix.

After some slow pistoning, he saw her bring the vibrator to her abdomen.

He couldn't see what she did with it. He accepted that this could be none of his business.

"Mmmm," she said. "Passing Cloud Three. Having any fun, Gordon?"

"Uh huh."

"If you think... it won't... send you, o-over the edge... you're wel, welcome, to fondle my dangling boobs."

His rational mind showed up, reminding him that what pleased her most was missionary, and full body contact. She was getting very little of that in doggystyle.

"Can do," he said, steeling himself to avert an early blast. Steadying his right hand on her hip, he leaned to reach and squeeze her left breast. Out of the way of her right arm, and what it held.

"Ohhhh," he heard from her. "Cloud Five... is in the rear-view mirror!"

He felt her nipple stiffen in his palm. He wanted so very, very much to cut loose.

What distracted him from that, was an odd observation from his rational mind.

When I said I love her, it seemed to make a difference for her. But she hasn't said she loves me.

She started mouth-breathing. Her hidden arm didn't seem to move. Her trunk swiveled slowly. "It's thin air," she huffed, "Up above Cloud Seven."

He slid his hand across from her left breast, to reach her right breast, while pressing her left with his forearm.

"Yeahyeahnice!" she yipped. "C-can you hold on?"

He said "Yeah," and then saw her right hand drop the vibe to the mattress. "More?"

"Yesssss." Her hiss lingered.

He set his knees firmly between hers, reached with his right hand, and squeezed both breasts with both hands.

Her head flipped back with a laugh. "Okayyyy! You can finish whenever you like!"

He wailed as he did, face flopping into the hair draping her shoulder blades.

There followed a very long nude huggy-kissy.

During that, she was analytical. "I was really careful with the vibe. At most, it added a few nice tingles. Like extra sunbeams through Cloud Nine, if I may beat the metaphor to death."

"You have my permission."

"This can be a work in progress. As scientists always say, when they want more funding, further research is needed. Can I count on your continued participation?"

"Anything to advance the pursuit of knowledge."

The ensuing banter featured her giggles and his droll smile, and more kisses.

Yet he noted that she still didn't express feelings for him, like his for her.

Finally, she pulled away from a kiss, and made eye contact. "Get dressed," she said flatly.

He opened his mouth, but then stoppered his question. She's worth it. Whatever I have to do, to stay in her life. If she needs her me-time, to maintain her space, so be it. "Okay," he said, trying for a neutral inflection.

"There's an all-night drugstore a block away," she said in the same tone. "Go buy a toothbrush. How do you like your eggs cooked?"

His neck-snap was almost audible as he faced her.

Her grin filled the room. "I am the Queen of Sorry-Not-Sorry! Oh Gordy, please stay the night! In the morning we can discuss whether spending the rest of our life together would be a terrible idea!"