The Sexpert

by JA Huss

  And wet.

  I step to her and wrap my arms around her waist, letting my hard cock slip in between her thighs and rub against the lips of her pussy. When I press my mouth against hers and allow my tongue to find its way to hers, she mutters out, “Oh, my God,” and her voice... It’s... The beating rain absorbs some of the sound, causing it to be muffled, and the tensing muscles in her stomach as we kiss suggests that she’s moaning in urgent need from the bottom of her very core, but it’s just that she sounds like... She sounds like...

  She sounds like big goddamn trouble in my world.

  Sexpert Advice

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - EDEN

  Oh. Shit.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  I think I just used my Sexpert voice on him. And it’s not like that’s the voice on the videos or anything because I use the Voice Lift app, but… but the inflection. The rough edges of it. The purring. It’s all her.

  And he’s got a weird look on his face now. His brows a little bit scrunched up. His eyes slightly narrowed. And not the half-mast kind like he had back in the stairwell, either. Those were I’m-hot-for-you eyes.

  These are… these are I’m-on-to-you eyes.

  So I basically have no choice. I pull out every Sexpert video I’ve done in the past year and use my unused, but much-talked-about, skills on him.

  I lightly drag my fingernails down his chest as I crouch down and open my legs. I feel myself blushing as I take his cock in both hands and begin to twist and pump him in my palms.

  The cold rain hitting our hot skin makes us steam. His eyes are locked with mine as I stare up at him.

  And I know what I have to do. I know that the only way to make him forget about who I might be and force him to think about what I’m doing instead is to…

  Yeah.

  I have given exactly two blow jobs in my entire life. Eden has no clue how to give a man the perfect blowjob.

  But Sexpert… well, she’s studied hundreds of porn movies searching for the perfect tips she promotes in her Drawing Cream from a Ding-Dong video.

  And she knows just what to do. (Even if she doesn’t quite execute it with one-hundred-percent accuracy.)

  I blow on the tip of his cock (tip number three) with exaggerated puckered lips and his eyes go wide. Which is fabulous. Because now he’s thinking about what I’m doing, not who I might sound like.

  My tongue darts out and swipes over the small opening while my hands travel up and down his thick, hard shaft. Twisting just enough. Gripping with just the right amount of pressure. (Tips one, four, and seven.)

  Rain is still falling down like a backdrop to the apocalypse. Which is perfect. I don’t even have to bring out tip number two. Spitting on my hands to make everything slide a little smoother.

  And then, just as lightning shoots through the sky above his head, I take him into my mouth and suck, a crack of thunder making the building shudder.

  His hands go to my wet hair. Guiding me with just the right amount of encouragement.

  I open wide, so ready to take him fully into my mouth. My tongue is eager, and things are going so well I’m actually making myself horny. And then he’s inside me, the steady pressure of his hands on my head making me want to give him more.

  So I do that. And it’s all pretty hot, and I’m feeling very proud of myself, kinda picturing how many women I’ve helped give the perfect blow job since we put this video out and…

  And then I gag.

  Like I push him away and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to just throw up.

  “Sorry,” I purr, looking up at him—never breaking eye contact, trying to stay in sexy mode. And then I dive back in, my hands still busy twisting and pumping with just a little more pressure, but this time the second his thick, round head enters my mouth, I gag again.

  Oh, my God. I suck. I suck at blow jobs! Not in a good way.

  And then I gag again just thinking about putting his cock in my mouth.

  Quick, Eden. Quick, quick, quick! You need to improvise.

  I lick his shaft. Yeah. That was tip number nine. Lick the shaft and cup the balls.

  Andrew moans.

  He likes it.

  I do it again. Dragging my tongue up and down his cock, giving his balls a little squeeze this time.

  Another moan!

  Success!

  The Sexpert says the blowjob should last between four and ten minutes. I’m on like minute two, which is unfortunate. Because I can’t think of any more tips. I really need to take a refresher course.

  Oh, tip ten! Lick his balls. Mmmhmmm. I dip my face underneath him and at the same time I lift his balls up and drag my tongue over them.

  “Shit,” he moans.

  I pull away, still gripping him, but now I’ve got his cock again. I didn’t make it to four minutes. I know that for sure. But hell, a girl knows her limits.

  And besides, I’ve got another idea.

  Sexpert video number six. How to Fuck Him With Your Cupcakes.

  I smile up at him as I take his cock and push it in between my girls. It’s a devious smile that I think makes him nervous. Because even though his grin is still in place, it’s a little lopsided now.

  Shit. Am I doing this wrong?

  No. No. I’m the Sexpert. And I have the perfect tits for titty-fucking. All the comments on that video say so.

  I place my hands on the outside of my breasts and push, squeezing against his cock. “Fuck,” he says, looking down at me.

  Yup. This is the winner. I’m good at this one. Like… if you’ve got the right props, there’s almost no skill required.

  I jiggle them a little, then a little harder. I’m trying to get that look on his face again. The one where he’s not wondering about who I might be but getting lost in what I’m doing.

  Hmmm. He still looks kinda distracted. So I do a little wink, make this clicking noise with my tongue, and stick my tongue out as I lower my head, licking the tip of his cock again.

  I take him in my mouth as he begins to get into it. Rocking his hips just enough to make his cock slide up to my mouth, then withdraw and almost get lost in my bosom.

  Yes! Success is mine once again!

  He starts moving a little faster, his dick thrusting up, then disappearing in quick succession.

  I seal my lips over his head, trying to get up with the new rhythm, but I can’t quite dip my head low enough to keep him in my mouth for the whole cycle, and then the next time he comes up, he does it with a little more excitement, and I’m just thinking this is it. I’ve got him right where I want him… he’s not putting two and two together… he’s not thinking about anything other than what we’re doing right now…

  And then I miscalculate and the tip of his cock pokes me in the eye.

  I lose my concentration for a moment, pulling back as my fingertips go to the stab of pain in my eye. Like I swear, it’s a second or two. But it’s enough. Because…

  “Shit,” he says, bending down. “Are you OK?”

  “Fine! I’m fine!”

  But I can tell. This isn’t going well. I need to pull out all the stops. He’s still thinking way too hard.

  So I take his hand in mine and jump forward to Sexpert video number ten. Show Him What Bakes Your Cake.

  I place his fingers between my legs and show him exactly where he can find the cherry on top.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - ANDREW

  The idea that I had percolating in the back of my mind that my new, and now very intimate friend Eden might somehow, coincidentally, be the one behind this whole Sexpert nonsense is being quickly dispelled. There is no way in hell this woman is giving anyone anonymous sex tips. But here, now, with me, the clumsy awkwardness is making me feel that much more into her. It is the sexual manifestation of everything I have seen in her to this point. Goddamn, she is fucking adorable. And... fun.

  She’s fun. This is fun. I’m having fun.

  I haven’t had fun in a minute.

  “What? What
is it?” she asks, nervously. I realize that I got distracted for half a second and my fingers are sitting on her clit but not moving. So I fix that.

  I grab her by the hips, spin her around, and throw her kind of roughly down onto this big, round daybed thing that’s out here. It’s puddled up from the rain and when she lands, water goes splashing off of it and she yelps a tiny bit and then giggles.

  I slide my knees in between her legs, holding them apart with the outside of my thighs, and put my index and middle finger back onto the spot she showed me.

  “There?”

  She nods, and I start circling her. Firm, small, massaging rotations that cause her to throw her head back. But when she does, her mouth opens, and she drinks in about a pint of rainwater and starts coughing orgiastically.

  “Shit.” I step back from her and let her roll to her side where she continues to hack. “What can I do? Can I help?”

  She shakes her head, and then manages to cough out, “I think I just need some water.”

  I can’t help it. I burst out laughing.

  She continues coughing and says, “Why are you laughing? What’s fun—?” And then she realizes what’s funny, I guess, because she starts laughing too. In between the coughing and hacking. She buries her face into the rain-soaked fabric and I can kind of make out her saying, “I’m such a fucking dork.”

  I say nothing, just smile and stare down at her back. She twists her head and pushes her hair out of her face as she glances over her shoulder at me. She blinks away the rain and raises her eyebrows in a “what now” way.

  I show her what now.

  I spread her legs wide again, slide in between them once again, and once again I put my two fingers on the spot she showed me and let them do their job. I’ve worked in so many mediums over the years—paint, pencil, clay, acrylic, silicone, you name it—and the thing I’m good at... the thing I’m best at... is finesse. I know how to use my hands to sculpt a delicate form. I know how to carefully craft every angle. I’m not prideful. It’s just what I do the best. I have strong hands which have just gotten stronger over the years from climbing, but I also have feel and touch and I know how to treat each special material I touch with the right kind of care.

  I haven’t created art in a long time. And I haven’t been with a woman in a long time. And right now, Eden is the beneficiary of the fact that I am re-engaged with two things I’ve missed.

  She whines out with want as I let a third finger find her soft flesh and I maneuver around the skin between her thighs. Her hips slide back, and she pushes her ass toward me. I use my thumb to press back into her and hold her in place. The rain batters us, its pulsing, staccato beating on our bodies fueling the energy that’s between us. I feel alive.

  With my other hand, I start stroking myself. When I jerked off last night, I kind of imagined Eden. I don’t know her, so it was just the idea of her. The fantasy of what the cute girl from the freeway... and the building where I work... and the building where I live... and the restaurant... and the elevator... (wow, when I thought I might run into her again, I had no idea...) might be like. But the reality of her is so much better.

  Pumping my cock with one hand and stroking her with the other as the rain pounds onto my terrace high above the street below, I feel like I feel when I’m climbing. And looking out at Pikes Peak, the twentieth tallest mountain peak in Colorado, it has the same quality I get when I’m reaching a summit.

  And I realize... I’m just about to hit the summit. We both are.

  “Mmm, mmmm, mmmmmmmmmmmm.” The sounds she’s making are getting longer, louder, and higher pitched each time a new “mmm” escapes from her. And each long, loud, high pitched “mmm” has me pumping on myself harder. And right at the moment she comes, a huge clap of thunder, a crash of lightning, and a scream from deep in her lungs all come along with her.

  And so do I. My cock spits out hot, steamy come all over her back. It mixes with the rain and disperses down the small of her back and onto her ass, sliding down the side of her hips and along her legs. I don’t think she can tell because the rain is still pounding on her and she’s still writhing with the force of her own orgasm, and I make the choice not to say anything. I just rub my hands all over her body, massaging her and simultaneously wiping away the evidence of the fact that I couldn’t keep myself from spilling out all over her during a rainstorm.

  In the middle of the day.

  On my second day in town.

  It is, as could have been predicted, awkward in my apartment.

  We’re back in the bedroom. She’s standing in front of me, wrapped in a towel. I’m just wearing a pair of boxer shorts. We look at each other. I smile. And then she says...

  “Clothes?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Clo-thes,” she says again, drawing out the word.

  “Oh, yeah,” I say, realizing that this was the whole pretense under which we came up to my place. Because she couldn’t get into hers to change and I might have something she could wear. Yeah. That’s plausible. “Umm, well,” I say, rummaging through my closet. “See, these aren’t, like, my things. I mean, they are, but I didn’t buy them. There was just this stuff waiting for me when I got here and I tried on one of the shirts, and I think they must be European or something because what they’re calling ‘large’ is no large I’ve ever heard of, so...” I fan through the inventory of button-downs as I’m talking, offering one after the other to her, and she just shakes her head.

  “What’s your deal?” she finally says.

  “What?”

  “Seriously, what’s your deal?”

  “That’s now the second time you’ve asked me that.”

  “Technically the fourth. I asked you twice yesterday. Or maybe fifth, I’m not sure, but you never answered anyway. So, for the fifth or sixth time... What’s your deal?”

  I take a second to think, nod my head, take a breath, and sit on the edge of the bed. “Um, I mean, I’m from Kentucky. Grew up on a horse farm. My dad died when I was, like, four. My mom is kind of a crazy Southern Belle type. I got sent off to boarding school, discovered I loved art, went to Bennington for undergrad because, I dunno, because it’s expensive and my mom likes spending money. Met Pierce, became best friends because we both have daddy issues and Oedipal complexes? Probably? Uh, went to grad school at Berkeley. Planned to be an artist-slash-museum curator or something. Wound up in a bloodless relationship and got engaged. Got unengaged because it was bloodless. Stumbled onto what became Voice Lift and accidentally started a billion-dollar company. And then yesterday morning I moved here. Oh... And I climb. Rocks and stuff. I always thought it was probably because I was trying to run away from something, but my lead developer, Dev, thinks it’s because they’re sturdy. But he’s nineteen, so take that with a grain of salt.”

  I sniff at the end of that because the A/C is making me a little stuffy.

  “You have a lead developer whose name is Dev?”

  I find it interesting that that’s what she chose to take from everything I just said.

  “You and Pierce are super close, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah. I know, he’s a dick. But he’s my brother. I love the guy. Love’s weird that way. It just kind of finds you. You can’t really pick and choose who you love, I don’t think.”

  “Huh,” she says.

  “And it’s fucked up that you work for him and that, hell, we had dinner together and he doesn’t really even know who you are, but...” I wish I hadn’t said that. Stupid. She gets very cold. “Sorry.”

  She presses her lips together and shakes her head. Not like she’s shaking it at me, just like she’s thinking.

  “What’s—?” I start to ask.

  “I gotta go,” she says.

  “But you... You’re in a towel. Here. Lemme—”

  “No, no, it’s fine,” she says, clutching the towel around her and grabbing up the things of hers that are around the apartment. She heads out of the bedroom. I follow.

 
; “Hey, listen,” I say. “I don’t know—” But that’s all I get out before she has her hand on the door. “Where are you going?”

  “I need to get someone to let me into my place. I have to get back to work. I have to continue pulling material to help your friend Pierce ward off the threat from this Sexpert person.” She really leans into Sexpert.

  “Oh, shit, yeah,” I say. “That’s so...”

  “That’s so what?” she asks, after I trail off.

  “Nothing. It’s just... funny. Because...”

  “Because what?”

  I take a long, long beat. We just stare at each other.

  “Nothing,” I finally say.

  “OK. Well, um, thanks for the... sexy... time... stuff.” She reaches out to shake my hand.

  “Uh.” I raise my hands awkwardly. “OK.” I reach to shake as well, but she withdraws her hand.

  “I... Ugh... Just... UGH!” she exclaims, and then she swings the door open, walks out, looks back, says, “Wha—?” and then she kind of knocks her fists against her forehead and she leaves.

  After she’s gone, I turn to face the windows and see that the rain has stopped. The hazy, post rain sun is glinting off the mountain in the distance. And arcing the sky over the peak of Pike... A rainbow. It’s incredible. Roy G. Biv. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, tracing the sky.

  And in a weird, optical illusion, it looks like it ends right at the spot where Eden and I were just a bit ago. And that’s when I also see that she left her underwear. Her discarded panties are still on the terrace, drying in the afternoon sun.

  And I’ll be damned if it doesn’t look like that’s the exact spot where my rainbow ends.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - EDEN

  So.

  Yeah.

  That day was kinda fucked up.

  I ducked into the stairs, dried myself off with the towel, then forced my soaking wet clothes back on my body, realizing—too late—that I left my underwear behind in Andrew’s penthouse like a token of my appreciation.