Penny Speaks

Penny wants to fuck me, but she’s too shy to ask. When we speak in person she touches me frequently, flirts constantly, drops endless hints. I refuse to pick them up. I want to fuck her too, but I want her to ask for it.

In our messages, Penny speaks more freely. Tells me she dreams about me, can’t stop thinking about me undressing her. Wishes I would do the things I do to other women at play parties to her. I tell her that these things can happen, but she needs to ask.

I couldn’t possibly, she writes back.

You don’t ask you don’t get.

I could ask you here. I could beg you.

In writing? No. Call me. Say it out loud.

I’ve never asked a man before.

Never too late to start.

Please. I’m so wet right now. I’d do anything.

Call me and ask and I’ll come over tonight.

Anything except that.

And it goes on like that. I’m toying with her. Partly because I am young and arrogant and like being pursued, but partly because I really do want her to ask. It feels necessary. I don’t see how we can fuck if she can’t even speak about fucking to my face. If she cannot tell me what she wants.

I tell her this, of course. In messages. She begs me. In messages. And when next we meet at a munch or a party? She blushes constantly and touches my arm, and drops little hints and never, never, never just asks.

And so it never happens. We never fuck.

We do almost fuck, once. During one of our long, teasing conversations I invite her to come around to my house and watch me and my girlfriend fuck. It’s a spur-of-the-moment offer, proffered somewhat tauntingly. I don’t think she’ll accept. I’m just trying to provoke her, needle her, set her up to make a counter-offer: why don’t you come around to my house, instead?

But, to my surprise, she’s keen. “That would be lovely,” she says, as if I had suggested nothing more unusual than dinner.

A week later Penny comes to my house. Me and my girlfriend fuck extravagantly on the bed. We are (as always when fucking in front of an audience) loud and rough and vulgar. We fuck pornographically, bodies pumping together. I make her change position two, three, four times. I want Penny to see our bodies from multiple angles. I look Penny in the eyes as I fuck my girlfriend from behind. I have my girlfriend look at her too.

Penny, sitting in my desk chair with a glass of wine, blushes deeply. But she doesn’t look away.

Afterwards, she enthuses. “That was beautiful,” she says. “Really… really just beautiful.”

My girlfriend, flushed and bright-eyed, giggles. “You had fun?”

“Oh very much,” says Penny. “It was so… oh… so intimate, just being here.”

“You’re welcome to watch again, any time,” says my girlfriend. “You can play too, if you like.”

And Penny, whose face is bright pink now, opens her mouth. “I’d… um… well…” She stammers for a moment. For a moment I’m sure she’s about to say it. It’s so easy. It’s just there. Tip of her tongue. She wrestles with it. Eyes meet mine. A pleading look. “That would be…” She swallows. Gives in. I see her giving in.

The moment collapses. We all breathe again. We talk about the wine we’re drinking, and the weather outside, and other inconsequential things. After a time, Penny takes her leave.

Later that night she messages me. You wouldn’t believe how wet it made me, she writes. I wanted to say it so badly. Can I call you? Right now? She calls me. Does not speak. I can hear the words she’s wrestling with. Locked in words that she cannot bring herself to say. I hold my phone against my ear. I’m certain that she’s going to say it. Absolutely certain. But, after a minute, there’s just a click, then silence.