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What Would Aristippus Think

By Raziel Moore
Invisible Lines (Novella)

The Question
© 1999 by J.T. "Jack" Benjamin

Erica says, "I want to ask you a question."

I think, Uh oh.  I don't like the sound of this.  One wrong answer and I'm sleeping on the couch.

It's one A.M.  Erica and I are basking in the afterglow of some really great sex.  We're both exhausted, but still too wired and loaded with adrenaline to go to sleep just yet.  We ordered some delivery pizza and we're enjoying some late night munchies and we're winding down.

We're both nude.  Erica's sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed.  Her cheeks are still a little flush.  Her hair is damp with perspiration, and it's sticking to her brown hair and her cheeks.

Right now, Erica's all business.  She's picking bits of olive off each slice of pizza she eats and flicks each one onto the cardboard box lid.  Each lands with an unusually loud plunk.  Erica's face reflects the same sort of furious intensity as that of a surgeon about to make that crucial first incision.  Once the last bit of olive has been banished from her pizza slice, Erica directs that gaze at me.

She asks, "What's the best sexual experience you've ever had?"

I spend a moment carefully crafting my answer.  I've got to be subtle about it, but my compliment of Erica's ability as a lover has got to make her blush for it to be effective.  Of course, I'm going to flatter her.  I mean, I'm no dummy.

Neither is Erica.  Before I answer, she says, "I want you to be completely honest."

My mouth goes dry.  Now I'm really on the spot.  Erica isn't fishing for a compliment.  She wants an honest answer and she won't quit until she gets one.  To make matters worse, I can't lie to Erica.  Lies just make her mad.  She won't even let me get away with the little fibs like, "I like your hair," or "That dress looks great." She can just glare at me and know that I'm lying.  It's her only character flaw.

I ask, "The best sex with you?"

I think, Please.  You just want a compliment, right?

"Your best sexual experience ever."

"Okay.  No problem." I decide to try to narrow the field a bit, giving myself something to work with. "Do blowjobs count? Or are we talking strictly penetration?"

"The best sexual experience you've ever had."

"Best lover? Most orgasms? Intensity on a scale of one to ten?"

"Best sexual experience.  Period."

I think, Geez, Erica.  Wha'd I ever do to you? "Okay," I say. "Give me a few minutes."

"Take your time." She picks up another slice of pizza and starts working on it, even though she hasn't finished her first slice yet. "I've got all night."

I sit on the edge of the bed.  Okay.  The best sexual experience ever.  Where do I begin? At the beginning? Rachel McGowan, after the Oak Ridge game, on the couch in her dad's basement.  We decided to spread towels on the cushions to catch the blood from the breaking of her hymen.  When no blood appeared, poor Rachel wondered if she'd lost her virginity on the balance beam in gym class.  Awkward? Sure, especially when I put the first condom on inside out.  Still, there's that irreplaceable thrill of doing "it" for the first time.  It was hot.  And unforgettable.  But the best ever? I couldn't say for certain.

For that matter, maybe Erica wasn't just referring to actual sex.  I recall that night with Rachel in my dad's car, two weeks before we'd popped our cherries.  Rachel let me play with her pussy, slipping my index finger into that wet, wonderful space between her legs.  She gasped and clutched at my shoulder, and I came in my pants, right then and there.  I could smell her on my finger all the way home.  I'll never forget that.

Let's see.  I dated three girls in college.  Suzy Kane.  She liked being called, "Sugar" and she always let out a shrill scream when she came.  Allison Bennett and Gina Toland.  I smile remembering little things like sneaking into Gina's dorm room and running from Allison's boyfriend's frat brothers.

I think about Amanda Willis, who worked in the next cubicle to mine when I was with Baker and Sons.  She'd dared me to go down on her in the elevator, and of course I couldn't turn down a dare.  That was fabulous.  Unforgettable.  But then I took her home and we kept playing the dare game all night.  What was the best part of that encounter?

There were many more women; some were real relationships, some were casual flings.  I couldn't forget any of them if I tried.  I spend a long time remembering all that great sex, but every time I think of a particularly vivid encounter, three more come to mind.  They were all terrific, but I couldn't say that any one of them was the best ever.

I say, "I dunno.  I've had a lot of good sex.  It's all been good.  Very good."

Erica says, "Okay.  But what was the best ever?" She's not letting me get out of this.

The best ever.  The best ever, best ever, best ever, best ever.  I recite those words in my head like a mantra, hoping an answer will come to me if I repeat them often enough.

Janice Lee.  God, was I hot for her.  I almost married her.  It went bad between us awfully fast, but for a while there, I couldn't imagine sex with anyone else.  In fact, after we broke up I thought I'd never want to have sex again.

Then I met Erica.  I've had sex with her more often than all the other women combined.  On a purely percentage basis, the best ever experience has to have been with her.  But which one?

Our first time together.  We were both so nervous it was like losing my virginity all over again.

That weekend in Aspen.

The drive to see her folks at Thanksgiving, and we both got so horny that we had to pull over at a rest stop and do it in the back seat, just like in high school.  That time I flew out to L.A.  and she met me at the airport when I returned.  She was wearing her red miniskirt and no panties.  She flashed me and whispered, "I need you right here.  Right now." We found an empty bathroom at the other end of the terminal.

Our first experiment in bondage.  The sex itself wasn't extra-ordinary, but there was a new feeling of trust between us that hadn't been there before.

And what about tonight? Wasn't that memorable? We spread out a blanket in the living room and I gave her an hour-long erotic massage, complete with special oil.  The room had been lit by forty scented candles, which gave off an ethereal glow.  I know she enjoyed the sex; I've got the scratch marks on my back to prove it.  Was it the best ever, though?

The loud plunk of an olive bit hitting a cardboard pizza box lid brings me back to the present.  How long have I been thinking? I'm not sure, but there's a lot less pizza and a much bigger pile of olives than there had been when Erica first asked me the question.

She's reclining at the head of the bed now, propped up by a couple of pillows.  One bare leg is crossed over the other.  She's got another piece of pizza in her hand, and the expression on her face is now one of bemusement.  Apparently, she's enjoyed watching the little bit of torture she's inflicted upon me.

She asks, "Well? What's the best sexual experience you've ever had?"

I grab Erica by the ankle and pull her toward me.  she lets out a startled gasp.  I'm on top of her in two seconds; two more seconds and I'm between her legs.  I have to use one hand to guide my not-completely-hard cock into her pussy, but after only three or four hard thrusts, I'm fully aroused.

So is Erica.  She's warm and moist inside.  I caught her by surprise, so for the first ten seconds or so she just lies underneath me, letting out a long, low groan.  Then she puts her arms around my neck and she raises her hips a little to meet my thrusts more effectively.  She begins letting out little gasps every time my pelvis meets hers, and her groans begin to sound more like a growl.

I respond by thrusting harder and faster.  She pulls my head closer to hers, and I can feel her breath in my ear.  She can't growl anymore; her gasps are coming one right on top of each other and they begin to sound like cries.

I hook my right arm underneath her left knee and lift, raising her pelvis even more and allowing me to drive more deeply into her.  She screams in my ear the first time the head of my swollen cock hits her G-spot.  I thrust again and hit it again, and she screams again and there's something burning between my legs and I keep going faster and faster and Erica's cries are getting louder and louder and she starts moaning, "Oh God oh God oh God yes yes yes yes oh God oh God yes Yes YES YES!" and she throws her head back and I want to watch her come, her mouth wide open, saying nothing, her eyes slammed shut then opening wide as the full force of her orgasm hits her and consumes her and I can't watch anymore because I'm coming too, and I think I cry out but I don't hear anything and I explode inside her, and we're frozen together like that for the longest time, our muscles unable to move and afer I don't know how long, muscle control comes back to us, and slowly, slowly we relax and go limp, completely spent.  I slump over on top of Erica, my head nestled next to hers.  She's still breathing hard into my ear.  Occasionally, she mutters an actual word, like "Wow." I like the feeling of still being inside her, even as my cock becomes soft.

We share a gentle, tender kiss and I roll off her.  Erica and I lie next to each other for a while.  My cock is slick with her wetness and my own semen, and the air makes it feel cool.

I say, "That was without a doubt the best sexual experience I've ever had."

Erica laughs. "Mm.  I've always thought it was neat the way the last sex I've had always feels like the best sex.  I'm glad to know great minds think alike." She gets up and crawls to the head of the bed.  She pulls the pizza box off the bed and throws it onto the floor.  She yawns and says, "Turn out the light, Honey.  I'm tired."

I obey her.  We get under the covers and she nestles under my arm, using my chest as her pillow.  She's asleep in seconds.  I listen to the sound of her breathing for a few moments, and then I fall asleep, too.

© 1999, by , J.T. "Jack" Benjamin.  All rights reserved.  Not to be reproduced without written permission from the author. This means you.


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