Mind Caviar Fiction

Simone Lee  has published short stories in other genres and has written hundreds of newspaper articles, but this is her first piece of erotic fiction. Miranda lives in San Francisco. Her hobbies include traveling,reading, learning to cook and taking afternoon naps.


"Sometimes I think Iím the most pathetic guy in the world," Bernard says. He sips his Coke and the ice tinkles against the glass. ďIíve never even seen a woman naked. Except, you know, in magazines.Ē

His confession comes out of the blue. We're sitting in my living room, just back from our 10-year high school reunion. We've just been giggling over the stupid '80s hairstyles we all wore for yearbook photos. Now I stare at him across the coffee table. I was pretty sure he was a virgin, but heíd never admitted it before. What can I say? ďItíll happen somedayĒ? Like, when heís 90? Doesnít sound all that comforting.

He watches my face, measuring my reaction. "So, do you think that makes me some kind of freak?"

"No," I say. "No, Bernard, you're just kind of. . .special." 

"Ha." He runs his fingers through his spiky black hair. "I'm short, fat, and ugly."

Plus a tad bit awkward and geeky, I add silently. Poor Bernard. He's really not that bad looking ­ heís got a round friendly face and nice dark eyes ­ but he has zero confidence, and that turns women off. I know it does me. Bernard's had a crush on me forever, but in my book we're just friends.

"You're really smart," I say, though I'm already inwardly wincing. It's the sort of backhanded compliment I hate to get and try not to give. "You're the smartest guy I know. Successful, too." He rolls his eyes. "Sorry. But you know it's true."

"I'm a freak." He pushes his glass aside. "The thing is, even if I met some woman whoíd go out with me, I wouldn't know. . .I'd probably just make a fool of myself.Ē

He gives me a vulnerable puppy-dog look, and in a flash I realize what I'm going to do. Maybe it's the champagne from the reunion's cash bar bubbling through my veins. Maybe itís because I feel sorry for him. I doubt Iíll have much fun, but I figure my pal Bernard could use an ego boost. I lean toward him. "So," I purr, "do you wanna?"

"Wanna what?"

"Like you said before -- see a woman naked.Ē

ďWhat? Who?Ē

I sigh. ďMe, stupid.Ē

His face lights up like someone just flicked a switch. "That's it, though," I warn, before he can get too excited. "Tonight you sleep on the couch. We're friends and only friends. Got it?"

He nods. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat. I've rendered a lawyer speechless. Iím shocked.

Slowly, I stand up. Though I'm not attracted to Bernard, my pussy's tingling. I'm getting off on the expression of pure awe and anticipation in Bernard's eyes. Let's be honest. I'm a bit of an exhibitionist. "What should I take off first?" I ask.

"Uh, the - the - the -" 

I swallow a giggle. "My shirt. How's that?"

He nods. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. He obviously can't believe his luck. I've always behaved myself around him -- tried not to encourage him, actually. But what the hell.

Slowly, I peel off my black tank top. Thank God I'm wearing a nice bra. I think I secretly hoped my high school boyfriend would make the reunion. Maybe that's why I'm feeling a little horny tonight, because I was fantasizing about how Charlie used to fuck me on a blanket in the back of his pickup truck.

I stand in front of Bernard in my sheer black bra, knee-length leather skirt, and stockings. The tip of my tongue creeps out to moisten my lips. When I speak, my voice is a throaty, seductive growl. "More?"

"Y-yes. Please, yes."

I reach around back and unhook the bra. My tits are firm and high, no sign of sag yet. I've always liked my nipples; they're large and pink, the areolas standing in separate mounds above the pale curve of my breasts. I toss the bra onto the coffee table.

Bernard is silent, stunned, almost shrinking into the sofa. I think he hopes I've forgotten he's there. Instead, I smile and bend toward him. My breasts sway over the coffee table. "What do you think?"

"Jesus," he gasps. He lifts his arm, moves his hand toward my tits. 

"Tsk tsk. Naughty boy." I straighten up, shaking my head. I love the rush of power I get from this deliberate cruelty, from teasing him without mercy. "No touching. Just watch."


I unzip my skirt. A quick shimmy and it slides over my hips and drops to the floor. I'm wearing sheer black thigh-high stockings, with lace around the tops. As I peel them off, I bend over to give Bernard a good look at my ass.

He makes a strangled sound of pleasure. "You're so -- so beautiful. Perfect."

I'm not, not really. I've got fat thighs, short legs and dimples on my butt. At the moment, though, looking at myself through Bernard's eyes, I do feel beautiful. I'm also getting wet. I quickly slide my panties off and sit back down on my chair, my thighs together. I hadnít planned to go on, but I canít resist. Iím loving this. "More?" I ask, in my huskiest, most seductive voice.

He's really speechless now. He can barely nod. There's a bulge in his pants, and he shifts on the couch as if he hopes to hide his erection. I scoot forward on the chair and slowly part my legs. Bernard's eyes never leave my crotch. He's fixated on my neatly trimmed pubic hair. "It's darker than your hair," he says.

I laugh out loud. "I'm not exactly a natural blonde."

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean --"

"It's okay. Itís fine." I smile and spread my thighs wider. As I part my pussy lips with my fingers, I find Iím dripping wet. I smile at Bernard and begin to touch the soft pink folds between my legs. "This is my vulva. My labia. My clit." I let my fingers brush it lightly. I like being the teacher, and Bernardís an attentive student. "See? Right here, standing at attention. You'll want to make a note of it." I'm teasing him again, but I'm into it, too. As I continue to strum my clit, my breath starts to come in tiny moans. 

Bernard's in agony now. I wink at him. "Go ahead.Ē It's all the permission he needs. He unzips his dress pants and reaches into his briefs. He's actually got a good-sized cock. Even from across the table, I can tell it's hard. He wraps two fingers around himself just under the head. With his other hand, he holds the skin scrunched down tight at the base. By now I've spread my legs as wide apart as I can get them. Bernard's eyes never leave my red and glistening pussy.

I rub my clit with one hand and pinch my nipples with the other. I'm about to come now, and -- after less than a minute -- so is Bernard. I love knowing that he's about to shoot his load because of me, because of my naked body and wide-open cunt. Soon he starts moaning and grunting, but I barely notice. I'm coming hard. Waves of pleasure roll through my body as my pussy spasms again and again.

When I come to my senses, Bernard's mopping at the sofa with a Kleenex. "I'm so, so sorry," he says as he shoots me his wounded-animal-waiting-for-punishment look. "I'll clean it all up, I promise."

Poor, poor Bernard. I know I said no touching, but I just have to break my own rule. I cross to where he's standing and kiss him tenderly on the forehead. "It's really okay," I whisper. "You're okay, Bernard, you know that?" And I turn and walk off down the hallway toward my bedroom, naked. I can almost feel his eyes on my ass.

I crawl into bed. God, I enjoyed that. Bernardís easily impressed, so easy to control. I had no idea I could get so aroused with him. Iím drunk on the power. As I drift off to sleep, I imagine what I might do next time he comes over. Maybe Iíll let him touch my tits. If I sucked his cock, heíd worship the ground I walk on. Or I could take pity on him and actually fuck him ­ that would really blow his mind. 

Yeah, maybe Iíll deflower Bernard. Who knows? It could be fun. 

Copyright © 2002 Simone Lee. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.

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