Audrey Exposed

by Queen, Roxy

  “Do it,” I command. His eyes flick back to mine. “Do it, for me.”

  Fast as lightening his cock is out of his pants and he’s stroking the shaft, with long, skillful fingers. We fall into a rhythm, watching one another while pleasing ourselves. The noises from my mouth are high and fast; his low, like a hum. I’m close, so very close, so I pluck my nipple between my fingers to free the tightly coiled spring, twisting in the pit below my stomach. The coil releases and I fly, soaring in mind and body.

  “Fuck, Audrey,” he mutters, watching me melt.

  I barely hear him, my ears pounding with my own pleasure. Through slit eyes, I watch thick cum gush from the tip of his cock, oozing down the side of his hand. He milks it until there’s nothing left and slumps his shoulders.

  “Shit,” he says, apparently incapable of saying anything other than curse words.

  Rousing from my stupor, my skin feels hot and sticky. The room smells like sex, my hand like pussy. I look at him, sprawled across the floor, dick in hand, and smile for the first time all night. He smiles back.

  Chapter 28

  (Graham)

  “How has the last week been?” Dr. Markson asks.

  “Well, that’s a difficult question,” I answer truthfully. It’s almost impossible to put into words what Audrey and I experience during our sessions.

  “Your notes imply it’s been somewhat of a roller coaster?”

  “You could say that.” If a roller coaster is made up of body parts, orgasms, tears, and frustration. “But I think we’re making headway.”

  “Good.” As she stirs her spoon in her teacup, it makes a ringing sound that echoes through the room and grates on my eardrums. “I want to thank you for your dedication to the project, Graham. I think we would have lost Audrey without it.”

  I don’t argue. We would have lost Audrey if I hadn’t gone over there that night. We’ve had a breakthrough since then, although not without obstacles.

  “And where do you plan to go from here?”

  “We’re scheduled for penetration within the week,” I say.

  “Is she aware of this timetable?”

  “Not specifically, but we’re getting closer. Once we actually try, I anticipate it make take a while to find absolute success.”

  “If you find success. This is an experiment. Failure is definitely possible.” Dr. Markson opens up a black covered planner and flips through the pages. “So you think the experiment is likely to be complete by the end of the month, successful or not?”

  “Yes.” I don’t tell her that I have no doubt we will be successful. I’ve promised Audrey that we will be, regardless of the experiment timelines.

  “Either way, I’m proud of the experiment. I think it’s going to provide some ground breaking revelations to the rest of the sex therapy field.” She smiles brightly. “I’ve already floated around a tentative summary to several colleagues. They’re definitely intrigued. But I’ve been wondering how are you handling all of this?”

  Like a champ, I want to say. My dick has enjoyed the last week thoroughly. However, I know she’s asking for something beyond a sexual response. “It’s been tiresome. Keeping a handle on Audrey’s emotions can be a challenge.”

  “How is it different from the other women you’ve worked with?”

  I pause, trying to figure out what she means by this. Dr. Markson rarely asks about my clients; and I’m unsure if this question is a test of some kind. “Audrey’s unique. She’s not seeking relief from bad choices or a bored lifestyle, or an escape from a shitty marriage. She’s genuinely attempting to change her life. I respect that.”

  “You don’t respect your former clients?” she probes.

  “Of course I do, it’s just different.” I search for the words to describe how I feel about the women I work with. “I guess I always thought I was helping those women. And I was, in my own way, but Audrey had a clinical need for my assistance. It feels different.”

  “Good or bad?”

  I think about her hands and her mouth, the way her body feels shuddering through an orgasm. The way her eyes watch intently as I have my own. I consider the way she gets angry when I tease her, and how she’s desperate to overcome her fears. “It feels good,” I say. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know her and helping her.”

  Dr. Markson scribbles on her pad and gives me a small grin. “Sometimes our patients expose us to a whole new world as well.”

  *

  “Slow… take it slow.”

  “I know, Graham. I’m going slowly.”

  “Just don’t rush. Relax and stay calm. Do you want me to rub your legs?”

  “I sort of want you to shut the fuck up.”

  Audrey and I share a mutually exasperated look. Her legs are widespread exposing her pussy. The pink, rocket-shaped dildo twitches in her hand, hovering over its intended target.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “That was rude.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just focus.”

  We’ve been doing this for days, inching toward penetration. We’ve decided to use the rocket first. As Audrey’s learned before, there’s a high chance of failure doing this for the first time with a penis. Too many variables. Staying erect is a huge problem. Even my cock can’t handle waiting around forever while she steadies her nerves. The rocket, in all its pink, plastic glory, won’t get flaccid.

  Yesterday she got the tip in. I thought maybe she could do it, insert it all the way, but just as the pink head buried itself into her body, she panicked. The nerve packed walls of her pussy clamped shut and it was back to the start.

  It was a minor step toward major success, but now we’re both more nervous than before. Right now, she’s angry with me, as she should be. I’m pushing her too hard. “Hey, I have an idea,” I tell her, trying to relax a little. “Let’s do this in a way that worked for us before. Come lie on my chest. This way I can support you without the two of us staring at one another.”

  “Okay,” she says, her eyebrows unfurrowing for the first time since she got here. “Let’s try it.”

  We shift positions and I bring her into my chest but she sinks low, almost to my stomach. The rounded tops of her breasts peek out of her bra. I’m caught by the flowery scent of her hair and I press my nose against the soft strands. “Relax into me,” I say, hoping my boner doesn’t scare her off. It shouldn’t at this point. My Him, as Audrey jokingly calls it, makes himself known quite frequently. “I’ve got you.”

  Her outer thighs drop against my inner ones, and together we spread apart. Using my hands, I stroke her inner thighs. She takes deep, settling breaths, and her legs fall wider with each inhalation.

  I watch as she preps the rocket, pouring a handful of lube into her palm and covering the plastic casing. “Get yourself, too,” I remind her, but she’s already started, coating herself generously. A flash of pink lowers between her legs and her hips jut forward. I can’t believe how nervous I am. How much I want her to succeed.

  Her chest rises and falls, and her free hand rests on her inner thigh, wet and shiny from the lube. The tip of the rocket dips out of view but I see her moving the device slowly, taking her time. I fall silent, taking the position of observer, not a participant. I don’t want to fuck this up.

  Audrey twists the base of the rocket, gently working it inside. I watch, riveted, as the inches of pink disappear. She says nothing, biting down once on her lip, a sign of pain from the stretching inside. I wait as she lies quietly in my lap, eyes clenched tightly closed, until she whispers, “How far is it?”

  I peer over her body, careful not to jostle her. “It’s all the way, Aud.”

  Her eyes pop open and her mouth parts, forming a circle. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Nope, it’s all the way in. You did it.” My smile falters when a shadow crosses her eyes and I see stomach muscles visibly tense. “Keep breathing. Don’t panic. You did it.”

  “I did it.”

  “What do you want to do from here?”

 
Her eyebrows furrow. “I don’t know. Take it out? Run away? Move it around?”

  “It’s up to you.”

  “I’m going to try to move it a little,” she says, closing her eyes once more. Her hand has not left the base of the rocket; and now she starts breathing again, in and out of her nose slowly, as she pulls it out and inserts it back.

  It’s a fucking miracle.

  I tense behind her with each move, certain something disastrous will happen. That she’ll panic and run from me, but she doesn’t. She remains calm and controlled. Pulling the dildo in and out. It’s not sexual. Purely functional, but it’s a huge step. Huge, and for the first time, I consider that this whole thing may actually result in a success.

  Chapter 29

  (Audrey)

  Three times.

  I made it happen three times.

  I feel stupid. I feel euphoric. I feel strong.

  Oh, and exhausted; I feel utterly exhausted. Not just me, Graham is too. I can tell from the small lines near his eyes. This whole phase of the experiment has worn him out, too. This is why I suggest we take the night off and have some fun instead.

  I enter the dark, stale smelling bar and search for him. It’s not what I would expect from Graham, but he says it’s his favorite. It’s a shitty hole in the wall. I see the dark wooden bar to the left, ancient beer signs hanging overhead, pool tables and dartboards in the back. TV’s blaring sports. No, it’s not what I expected; but then again, it feels right. I kind of instantly love it. It’s like a peek into the side of Graham that he never allows me to see.

  “Audrey,” he calls from a table near the window. I push through the crowd of people, an older demographic than the typical student bars. Did he bring me here to hide me? Am I a secret? I’ve never thought about it much. Other than the two times he’s been to my apartment, Graham and I exist in a safe, protective bubble, one on one. Half-naked, under dim lights. Here in the glare of commercial lighting, I can’t help but smile when I see him. It means we are so close to success, if we haven’t found it already.

  “Hey,” I say, pulling out a chair. I see the bright light on his phone flash but he turns it over and ignores it. An empty glass sits next to a pitcher of beer. He fills it quickly and slides it to me. “Thanks.”

  “How was your day?”

  “Good. The kids were wild. Everyone’s ready for school to let out.” We’ve taken to talking about real life at times. Not just the size of the dildo we’re using that day. To be clear we’ve expanded four sizes. Graham says we’re close to his girth.

  He drinks his beer and licks the foam off his lip. “Are you getting excited about graduation?”

  “Yep, two weeks left. Seems like forever.”

  “What happens then? Do you have a job lined up?”

  I shake my head. “No. Not yet. To be honest this experiment has taken up so much of my time, I fell a little behind in life, you know? I figure I’ll get busy once I have the diploma. I’ve totally neglected my friend Jessica, who’s getting married in a couple of weeks.” He makes a face and I laugh. “What’s that about?”

  “Weddings. I’m not a fan.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “It’s just my experience that a long-term commitment like that stifles people.”

  “Wow. Really?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe it’s my hippie background.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t found the right woman yet.”

  He holds his glass up and says, “Touché. Maybe not.” The shadows in his eyes imply he’s not convinced.

  “Well, believe it or not; historically, I haven’t been a huge fan of weddings either.”

  “No? I thought that was a goal of yours, marriage, kids. I thought you and Dylan were on the track.”

  “Oh, we were, which terrified me obviously, but weddings come with this implied sexual theme. Some would call it romance, but I always viewed it as a high pressure sex party.”

  “What?” he laughs.

  “I’m serious. Everyone knows the bride and groom are going to fuck that night. Nothing’s taboo, in a way. People joke and laugh about it. They go on and on about the honeymoon, tossing the bouquet and garter. Even the stupid lingerie shower. Everything is hyper-sexualized, at least to someone like me.”

  “I can see that. But this time you feel different?”

  “This time I’m kind of excited. Dylan and I are going together. I mean, if everything works out with the experiment, I may be ready to join in the fun for once.”

  “That’s great,” he says, finally understanding my perspective.

  “We’ll see.”

  “I get what you mean about time, though. I feel like I’ve been so involved with this experiment that I’ll have no idea what to do with myself when it’s over.”

  When I’m not occupying all his time. Those are the unspoken words hanging between us. It’s weird. How do you go from seeing one another naked every day to never at all?

  Graham refills our glasses and I see his phone skitter across the table, again. “Avoiding someone?” I ask.

  “Avoid is a harsh way to put it. It’s someone I used to work with.” His hand rakes through his hair. It’s the first time I’ve seen him make a nervous gesture. It intrigues me.

  “Is it bad?”

  “No, she’s just a little needy. It can be a little much some times.”

  Poor Graham. He must have a work type, needy and exhausting. I definitely fit the description. “What kind of work did you do?” I hadn’t probed for information in his private life in months. Things had changed between us so much that I didn’t even think about it, but my question makes his lips pull into a tight line. “Sorry, no personal questions. I forgot.”

  His fingers go for his hair again; what’s up with that? “No, I do odd jobs, like handy-man type stuff, which means I get calls all the time, usually when I’m busy.”

  “Yeah, that would suck. At least a school day is seven till three, well, excluding the homework.”

  “I’m just afraid if I take this call I’ll end up fixing a broken toilet or something. Look, we came to celebrate, not talk about my crappy job.” He waves over a waitress and gives her an easy smile. “Can we have a couple of shots over here?”

  “Sure,” she says, returning the grin. Minutes later, she brings us three shot glasses each. They’re filled with a dark brown liquid.

  Graham lifts the first one, and says, “To Audrey and seeing this project to the end. I’m proud of you.”

  I follow suit, smelling the strong liquid waft by my nose. I want to toast myself; but I have something better in mind. I hold my glass high and proclaim, “To the successful art of fucking.”

  Graham’s blue eyes light up and he laughs, clinking his glass to mine. “To fucking.”

  *

  When the moment comes, I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s not something you can easily put in words, that’s why it’s such a big deal. How could anyone know what it’s like; such a special moment, yet everyone (or almost everyone) goes through the experience. It carries a stigma, for good or bad. You’re either a virgin or you’re not.

  Graham hovers over me; patience written on his face. His cock is less tolerant, jabbing persistently at my thigh. When he enters, slowly, a tiny bit at a time, my insides fight against him as if he’s an invading alien.

  Yet, he does it. I do it. We’re doing it. The room is filled with the sound of my nervous breaths, not the aroused kind, but the trying-not-to-panic kind. He grinds his teeth and grimaces, finally saying, “I’ve got to move, Aud.”

  “I’m ready,” I lie, feeling like I may tear in half. But I know I won’t. Logically, I know this. The experiment has taught me this. The only difference between today and yesterday is that Graham’s cock isn’t plastic and controlled by me. It’s alive and wielded by a hundred-and-eighty-pound man. I’m terrified. And thrilled.

  He makes a small movement and I cry out, biting my lip to hold it back.

  “Breathe, A
udrey.”

  I do. I breathe.

  “Keep going,” I say, and he does. He moves in and out of me, the hard knot at the back of his jaw revealing his restraint. He’s worried. His eyes reveal that and it makes me appreciate him even more. I’m intent on not crying. I focus on his shoulders, on the way his hair curls on his forehead. I sink into the pain of it all, the fullness in my body.

  Then he pushes in one more time, barely a thrust; and finally, I feel it, the signal I’ve been waiting for. I shut my eyes and tears roll down my cheeks. Tears of pain. Of relief.

  Graham kisses them away. Swelling inside me, he moves his hips.

  Again.

  And again.

  Chapter 30

  (Graham)

  “What now?” she asks later. Audrey has the sheet pulled up to her chin. A small smile tugs at her lips. To my dismay, the shadows linger in her eyes.

  I slip on my boxer shorts and sit across from her. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I need a shower. And like someone,” she lifts an accusatory eyebrow at me, “rammed me with a pipe. But overall, pretty good. It was good, right?”

  “Definitely good.”

  “Good,” she giggles. I laugh too. There are only so many times you can say something is good. Except, she doesn’t look like she feels good. She looks…confused? I should have known. Half of Audrey’s problem is that she doesn’t ever stop thinking.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I swear.”

  “Audrey I know you well enough to know that something’s wrong.”

  “Oh, yeah? How?”

  I lean over and touch the bridge of her nose. “You get a line right here. It’s your tell.” I don’t add that she gets the same line seconds before she comes or that it’s completely adorable. “So what’s the problem?”

  Her legs bend and she wraps her arms around them. “I don’t know. Everything sort of feels anticlimactic or something. Unsatisfying.”