WETTER: An Erotic Romance

by Jorja Tabu

  He dropped his gaze back to the statue, deflating immediately.

  “Of course you can get some water,” he said softly, finding the gear again. “May I have a glass too?” His accent was buried in disappointment, she could tell.

  “Jordan,” she said gently, “what’s the big deal?” He refused to look up at her. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty three,” he said, angling himself slightly away from her so that her view was exclusively of his rippling back as he dug fiercely into the statue’s machinery. “And it’s not supposed to be a big deal, I guess.”

  “But it is,” she said, standing still.

  “I guess not,” he said. “Sex seems like a lot of trouble for most people, anyway.” She couldn’t tell if she’d hurt his pride, or just reminded him of his religious commitment. Either way, Lena decided if he would have her, she would have him. Today.

  “Is there a reason you haven’t had sex? Like, a girl that got away, or your family’s beliefs?” She stood still, willing him to turn back towards her. He didn’t.

  “I wanted to please my parents, and please God,” he said softly. “But now...Now I don’t know if God really agrees with all the things people seem to think. And I feel like I might have missed that window...If I want to have sex, I guess someone will come along. Eventually.” At this point, he rested his hands once again in the dirt, watching the gear fall back to the earth. “But I don’t know when. Most people get losing their virginity over with in high school, right?”

  “Right,” Lena said softly.

  “If God is kind to me, he’ll send someone.” Jordan didn’t look up at her. “Someone who isn’t married.” His voice was sad.

  Or twenty years older than you, or just confused and sad in general, Lena thought. “Do you really believe that?” She stood for another minute, watching his strong back work ferociously on the statue, desperate to forget their conversation. “Do you really believe God will send you someone--and if God did, how would you know it?”

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to interfere in your marriage,” Jordan said softly, his words quiet beneath the storm of his activity, muscles jumping in his shoulders as he wrenched and began to sweat.

  “Not me, Jordan,” Lena said, moving over towards the spicket on the side of the garden house. “I’m not just talking about me. I’m talking about you--how would you know who God meant for you to be with? What if it’s a man? What if it is some married lady, even if it’s not me?” She bent over with her back towards him, not worrying about how short her robe was, how transparent the ass of her nightie shorts were; she was pretty sure her moment with the boy had passed. He was busy staring into the depths of the statue her husband bought her. She stood back up, the water dripping over her throat and chest, dampening the satin over her breasts. When she turned around, his eyes were wide.

  She’d overestimated his interest in the statue. And underestimated her chances with him, apparently. She smiled knowingly as he immediately averted his gaze back to the work in front of him. “Sorry,” he quickly said. She shrugged and let her robe fall open again, standing a bit closer to him than last time, so that when his head turned towards her it would be only inches from her damp thighs.

  “No problem,” she said, grinning. “But back to my question--how do you know who God wants to take your virginity?”

  “I just...I don’t think God would put me in the path of sin at the same time he put me in the path of great joy,” Jordan said slowly, keeping his back to her, his shoulders hunched towards the statue. She saw that he’d managed to extract another gear from the innards.

  “That sounds rehearsed,” Lena said, patiently waiting. Her body felt good in the breeze, and the robe wavered gently, the satin slipping across her bare skin in the sunlight. She closed her eyes again but raised her face to the sun, as before.

  “It is,” Jordan sighed, but she could hear that he hadn’t yet turned towards her. “My priest told me all of this when I asked...I asked him some of the questions you’re asking me.”

  “Priest? Here?”

  “No,” he said, resigned to the memory. “In Honolulu, where I started my undergrad degree before I transferred here.”

  “It’s very wholesome,” she said carefully, “to believe that there’s someone perfect out there waiting for you. And hell, for all I know, there is. Maybe some beautiful twenty three year old girl is in your class right now, shaking with desire every time she sees you walk through the door.” Probably, Lena thought, tracing his frame in her mind. He dressed to hide his body, but someone had to have noticed.

  “I doubt it,” Jordan chuckled. “I don’t think anybody sees me and even thinks twice.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” Lena scoffed. “You’re huge! Even if they don’t want to fuck you, they definitely notice you.”

  He was quiet for a long minute. “I don’t think so,” he said softly.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Lena’s eyes snapped open and she stared down at him, her vision pained by the sudden sunlight. “I’m sorry, Jordan.”

  “No,” he said, and she realized he’d yet to turn around again. His hands were still on the gears and levers in front of him. “I guess you’re right. I am big. But that doesn’t get you noticed, unless you play football or something like that.”

  “And you don’t?” She watched the muscles begin to move again and wondered.

  “Not any more,” he said softly. “I used to. I used to do a lot of things.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Lena said thoughtfully. There it was--the wound, whatever it was, that she had sensed the first day they met. The day he’d fascinated her with his golden eyes.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said quickly. He used one of his hands to brace himself against the statue as the other one fished around inside the engine. “Everybody changes, grows up. Right?”

  “Not everybody feels abandoned by what they believed,” Lena said, and his hands grew still for a moment. “What do you do now, if you don’t play football and you’re not so sure about waiting for marriage and God’s message for you and what all?” She tried to make the words light, but they came off a little shaky. She closed her eyes and bent backwards, stretching her neck, and when she looked back at the boy he had finally moved to look at her.

  His face was inches from her thighs; three beads of sweat rested above his plump upper lip and his eyes were wide. Almost frightened.

  He must smell me, she thought, and decided not to move. Just let him, then. See what God says about that.

  “I guess...” Jordan licked his lips, his eyes traveling from her tanned thighs to the edge of her nightie, and then across her breasts to her face. “I guess I fix fountains for pretty married ladies.”

  “Hmm,” Lena said softly. Very slowly, she lifted her hand and slid her index finger under his chin, lifting his face as she moved so that he was directly between her slightly parted thighs. “Maybe you’re meant to fix more than that, Jordan,” she whispered.

  He didn’t move, utterly spell bound, she knew, by her forwardness; the boy knelt before her, his massive frame hunched with his tender lips so close to her pussy she could feel him exhale a sharp breath as it swept over her clit. “You liked what you saw last night?” He nodded, unblinking. “Do you want to know what I taste like, Jordan?” Her clit swelled when another hot cloud of his breath raced across it. He nodded again, and licked his lips; she inched closer to him, putting both of her hands gingerly along his jawline, her fingers resting on either side of his neck. “All you have to do is open your mouth,” she whispered, “and I’ll let you. Do you want it?”

  Very slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, Jordan let his lips part. Lena pushed her pelvis towards him carefully, the satin tight across her hip as it dug in while she strained her clit against it, reaching for the boy. Finally, slowly, she rested the satin-clad hood against the boy’s bottom lip. “Kiss it,” she whispered. She was just the perfect height for him to nuzzle her clit
as she stood and he knelt, and the boy gulped before putting his plump lips together and gently pushing them against her swollen clit. The pressure felt amazing, but he was gone just as fast. “Pull them down,” Lena instructed, and his fingertips, shaking, snaked along her thighs and slid beneath her robe and nightie top to find the waistband of her shortie. He finally blinked, and Lena smiled. “It’s okay, Jordan. Whenever you’re done, we’re done, okay?” He nodded, his breath still caught in his chest, and Lena felt his soft fingertips pluck the elastic and begin to pull them down over her hips. When she felt the warm air on her pussy lips, she sighed and tilted her head back for a minute.

  The sun was directly above them; high noon in the springtime, and the weather was practically perfect. The fine fingertips rested on her thighs once more, hesitating, and she took a deep breath before looking down at him again.

  His shiny black hair was thick, and she curled her fingers into it as he looked up at her, a frightened mix of excitement and anxiety on his lovely face. Jordan pressed his palms against her skin, unconsciously, and bit his lip while she drank in his expression; after a moment, without another word from her, he looked down at her barely visible pussy and slowly leaned forward.

  As he moved towards her, Lena tilted back on her hips to angle her clit towards him. Her pussy was neatly shaved and trimmed, with just a small strip of hair leading down to her lips; Randall’s insistence was paying off in this instance. Very gently, Jordan extended his tongue and laid it against the cleft, his nose tipped back, his lips pressing into her wet flesh. Lena inhaled, looked into his golden eyes, and smiled as she spread her legs further apart. “Just lick it, Jordan,” she said, “from back to fron--” Her breath caught as his tongue slid between her slick pussy lips, following her instructions to the letter. “Yes, just like that.”

  She wasn’t expecting to cum; he had never been near a naked woman, she was sure, let alone brought one to orgasm with his mouth. But she was willing to let him linger in all the shallow crevices of her body, tasting each drop of juice her body produced as he lapped diligently at the cleft. Lena’s back began to arch as his attention swelled her clit even more, and she found she was pulling his hair.

  Just a little.

  He clearly didn’t mind.

  “Right at the front there, Jordan, do you feel that?” His tongue responded by giving pointed little licks directly on her clit, and she gasped. He did it again until she pulled his head back and stared down at him, grinning. “Gently, gently...you can suck it, if you want to.” He didn’t smile back, quite yet, but the fear was gone from his face; in its stead was a white hot hunger, bare to her for the first time. He buried his face into her pussy and she felt his tentative fingers sliding around her thighs to the back of her body, their width so broad they covered most of the side and back. When his fingertips reached the highest point of her thigh, the meat of her ass just north, they slowly teased up. She let him knead her ass as he sucked at her clit, slowly pushing himself further and further between her legs until eventually she realized she was going to have to lay down or fall down. “Jordan...” Lena tried to gather her thoughts as he nibbled and sucked, his fingers lightly running over her asscheeks, and eventually she gave up and simply yanked his head back, her fingers still tangled in his hair.

  “Did I do it wrong?” Jordan’s gentle voice brought her right back to her senses, and she ran a finger reassuringly along his cheek.

  “No, no honey, you did too good,” she murmured, enjoying the way he pushed his damp face into her open palm.

  “Can I see you?” He licked his lips, but the shyness came through in the softness of his tone. “I mean, can I see the rest of you?”

  “Let’s go inside the garden house,” Lena said. “We never got you that glass of water.”

  He silently stood, and she was reminded again of his size; he was easily half a foot taller than her, at least, and she was tall for a woman. She gently took his hand in hers, examining the difference in size and color. He was richly brown, the palm a light tan. His fingers were soft, but hard work was written across them in tidy lines of scars. She brushed some of the dirt off of him and smiled. “I’ve probably got some dirty fingerprints on my butt now, huh?”

  “I didn’t--I’m sorry--”

  “Jordan, it’s okay,” she laughed, and led him into the dark doorway and out of the sun. Her thighs were sticky with his eager saliva and her own juices, and she relished it as she walked. “I was making a joke. It felt so good, to have you touching me.”

  “I...I wanted to...” He stood in the doorway, framed in sunlight, and she could no longer see his expression in the dark room. “I’ve never done that before,” he said quietly, and Lena could tell what they’d just done had set in.

  “Let’s have a glass of water,” she said, ignoring the tingle between her legs. He took up almost the entire doorway, blocking the noon light, and it was dark in the room. She turned her back towards him and found a pair of glasses in the cupboard, reaching up to grab them, then froze when she felt his strong hands around her waist.

  “I didn’t want to stop,” he whispered, and she felt his hands slide beneath her robe, rubbing her belly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, pulling away. Lena turned around and grabbed his hands before he withdrew completely.

  “I’m glad,” she said, pulling him towards her. He clearly wasn’t used to being so close to anyone; his chest stopped moving as he held his breath again, and his arms were tight as she guided them around her body once more. She leaned into him, smelling his body through his t-shirt where his sweat soaked through in the sun. Slowly, he relaxed, and his warm hands were on her back again, his head tucked towards the top of her head. “Please don’t be sorry that you made me feel so good, Jordan. Even if you don’t want to do anything else, ever, you have nothing to regret.”

  “No,” he said softly into her hair. She picked her head up to look at his face, tilting hers back as her eyes slowly adjusted to the low light. “That’s the problem. I’m always going to know how a woman tastes, now. How you taste, Lena.” He’d never said her name before. It sent a delicious chill over her skin. “If I do nothing else, I’m going to regret that.”

  “There’s no rush,” she soothed him. “There’s no reason to hurry, unless you want to. Unless you feel like there’s a good reason to hurry. There’s always going to be women--me, for one--who are going to love your touch, beg you for it, even. If you don’t want--”

  “I do want,” he whispered. “I haven’t wanted anything this much since...”

  “Since?” She wondered if she would finally find out the source of his sadness, and even though she’d hoped to know, she couldn’t have expected his surprising response.

  “Since I left seminary,” he said slowly in his gentle voice, and she looked up at him in the dark. His luminescent eyes peered down at her, waiting for her reaction. “Since the Fathers told me I needed to spend more time in the world and see if I really belonged with them. I didn’t want anything more than to belong there, with them, until...Until I saw you three days ago.” He blinked, and she saw the faint glimmer of a tear on his cheek. She stood up on her toes to kiss his mouth, his cheeks, his tear, and he held completely still to let her.

  “That’s why,” she said after she’d traced each edge of his features with her lips, leaving the softest kisses she could muster, a cloud of them to heal his sadness. “That’s why you waited?”

  “I didn’t meet anyone I thought I belonged with, but they knew...They knew I wasn’t enough of a believer to belong with them.” He pulled her closer to his warm chest, and she nuzzled against him. “They were never fooled, I guess. I had too many questions.”

  “They were wise, maybe,” Lena said softly, letting her hands roam across his broad back as they stood together. “Maybe they didn’t want you to be hurt when you had to leave later, after you’d taken the vows. Priests can be pretty smart sometimes.” They laughed.

  After a moment he pulled back and
looked down at her again. “I’ve never kissed a woman before, Lena.”

  “Well, now I feel guilty,” she said, half serious. “I guess I got carried away.”

  His expression was hard to see in the darkness, but his warm, sweet breath blew across her forehead as he leaned closer. “I still can’t believe you would want to get carried away with me,” he said softly.

  She didn’t say anything, this time; instead, she leaned towards him, arching her back and racing her hands around his waist and along the center of his body, feeling his muscles tense and unknit under her hands. She pressed her breasts into his chest and tilted her head, sliding one hand over his neck and pulling him to meet her lips with his own.

  They were so soft, so plush; without thinking about it, she withdrew slightly from the sweetness in his mouth and began to suck his upper lip, gently, before she felt his tongue begin to hesitantly tease her own. His skin was soaked in her juices, and she nibbled his flesh with an eager mouth as his tongue slid with growing confidence into her mouth. Finally, she sucked it, feeling him gasp with the sharp mix of pleasure and pain, his cock growing hard against her belly. Her hands raced through his luxurious hair as his own clenched her waist and drew her tight against his body.