Mick , Nick Ch. 1

Double Penetration

They say that men are supposed to reach their sexual peak in their late-teens. If that’s true, Mick Jackson must have been a late bloomer. His own sexual “peaking” didn’t really begin until he was in his late-twenties–thanks largely to Nicole. Now, more than a decade later, he still hadn’t noticed any signs of slowing down, either. Nicole wouldn’t let that happen. As Mick lay in bed watching her dress for work, a little shudder ran through him. Today was Nicole’s thirtieth birthday, and it was almost frightening to think that her sexual peak might still be ahead of her. He felt his limp member begin to stir beneath the sheets as he watched her primping before the mirror, thinking ahead to the surprise he’d planned for her that night. Who knows, he thought to himself, maybe he’d get a glimpse of Nicole at her peak in just a few hours….

Michael Jackson (who preferred, for obvious reasons, to go by his nickname, Mick) and Nicole Chapin (who became known to everyone as Nick) met in college. She was a 19-year-old sophomore at the time, and he was a 28-year-old graduate student. Since they were both in the theater and drama program, their paths crossed regularly, and it hadn’t taken more than one or two such crossings for Mick to notice her. Of course, a lot of guys noticed Nicole Chapin.

She was tall and slender, with the lithe figure of a fashion model. Her breasts were on the smallish side, some men might say, but her long, shapely legs and perfect ass more than compensated for that, in Mick’s view. She had straight, dirty-blonde hair that hung down to her shoulders, and she often wore it in a kind of “peek-a-boo” style that enhanced her exotic facial features. Nicole wasn’t what you’d call “cute” or “pretty” in the all-American girl sense. Her mother’s side of the family was from Scandinavia, and Nicole had inherited her mother’s strikingly beautiful Nordic features. Even though she was only nineteen, her cool, casual beauty and elegance made her seem mature beyond her years.

Seeing her in the halls on her way to class or hanging around with other students in the theater building, Mick quickly became entranced by this young woman. Of course, he’d never have a chance with her, he told himself. In addition to the difference in their ages, there was also the difference in their backgrounds.

Like most of the undergraduates at this university, Nicole came from money. She was raised in the East, where her daddy was CEO of an international chain of resorts, hotels, and restaurants. Nicole had been educated in the best private schools, had traveled the world, and wanted for nothing–including boyfriends, it appeared to Mick. Wherever she went, there was always some buffed up stud or a pretty-boy actor/model type sniffing around her–rich, good-looking guys closer to her own age and social class.

Mick, on the other hand, was raised in the Midwest, with a blue-collar background and a public school education. After high school, he did what most of his buddies had done: gone to a state college, married his high school sweetheart, and got a job. For five years he worked as an English and drama teacher at a high school near his hometown, during which time he and his wife began to drift apart. After a few half-hearted attempts to repair their relationship, they finally divorced, and Mick decided it might be a good time to make some other changes in his life.

He’d always wanted to go to graduate school, thinking it might be more enjoyable and challenging teaching college instead of high school, and he wanted to get away from his hometown. On a lark, he applied to the best graduate program he could find. He was surprised when they not only accepted him, but also offered him a teaching assistantship. So he quit his job, packed up his belongings, and headed east. Now, here he was back in school again after all these years, trying to survive on his meager stipend, suddenly “unattached,” and surrounded by bright, young, attractive women.

Now if only he could only figure out how to approach one of them….

Like most divorcees, Mick found it awkward trying to get back in the dating game. He hadn’t been on a date or had sex with anyone but his ex-wife since he was 17. Even though he was still a young man, he felt old-fashioned in comparison to these younger kids, with their seemingly more casual approach to dating and relationships and sex.

Not that he was opposed to such things. In fact, he thought it would be good for him to “play the field” for a while instead of jumping right into another serious relationship. He’d been “good” for too damned long, he thought. Since he hadn’t sown any wild oats when he was in his teens and early twenties, as a lot of guys do, he wanted to make up for lost time. The only problem was that he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

He hadn’t been around single women in so long that they often seemed like an alien species to him. He didn’t know how to ask one out for a date–hell, the 4 k porno last “date” he’d been on was in high school–and he certainly didn’t know how you got one to go to bed with you. He got along well with one of his fellow graduate students, an attractive brunette named Sara, and they’d gone out together several times for a drink or a bite to eat. But you couldn’t really consider those “dates,” he reckoned, since he hadn’t called her up or brought her flowers or got dressed up or any of the other stuff he remembered from high school. She was definitely a girl, and she was definitely a friend, but he couldn’t tell if she was interested in being more than friends–which is to say, interested in having sex with him. Mick just couldn’t read the signals she was giving him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure whether she was sending signals!

Consequently, he didn’t realize that there were a number of young women in the theater program who were becoming interested in Mick Jackson. Being an unattached, heterosexual male was enough in itself to make him attractive to some of them, since the ratio of straight females to straight males in the program was about 3-to-1. And then there was his age, which made him attractive to those coeds who had grown tired of the “boys” their own age. Even his being divorced was a potential asset, in the eyes of the romantically inclined, for it meant that he had suffered and would be all the more grateful to a woman who could appreciate him and take care of him. Finally, there was his talent.

During his first semester, he had landed the title role in the university’s production of “Cyrano de Bergerac.” His performance was the talk of the campus, especially among those would-be Roxannes in the program who began to attribute to Mick all the romantic qualities of the character he was playing. Even Cyrano’s famous physical deformity worked to Mick’s advantage. Mick didn’t have a buffed-up bod or pretty-boy good looks like many of the actors in the program. It’s not that he scared small children or anything, but he wasn’t the guy most girls noticed first in a roomful of GQ model-types. He was of average height and average weight, with average brown hair and eyes, average looks….

But after seeing him onstage, women suddenly began to notice him for the first time. Some of the bolder ones would stop him in the halls to introduce themselves and compliment him on his performance, and the girls in his Theater Appreciation class were starting to pay more attention during his lectures. Near the end of the fall semester, auditions were held for the major spring production, “The Taming of the Shrew.” Everyone assumed that the role of Petruchio would go to Mick–but the competition for the role of Kate was fierce.

On the morning after the auditions, Mick went to check the casting board. He was fairly confident that he had landed the leading role, but he was curious to see who would be playing opposite him. He stopped short when he saw Nicole standing there looking at the cast list. He didn’t know she had auditioned for the show, and his heart began racing as he tried to think of something clever to say to her. The thought that she might be in the play with him made him weak. But what if her name wasn’t on the list? He might come off sounding like a jerk if he tried to make a joke. Maybe he should just play it cool, treat her like graduate students normally treated sophomores–which is to say, ignore her….

Before he could decide, Nicole suddenly turned around, almost bumping into him and startling them both. “Oh!” she laughed, placing a hand coyly on her breast. “It’s you!” She smiled and looked down, her cheeks flushing, then held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Nicole–Nicole Chapin.”

“Uh, hi,” Mick replied numbly, shaking her hand. “Mick–Michael–Mick Jackson.”

“Yes, I know,” she smiled. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”

“Oh yeah?” Mick grinned. He still couldn’t believe it when girls would say that to him.

“Yeah, um, my friend, Amy, told me about you,” Nicole said quickly. “Amy Burton.”

“Oh, right. Amy,” Mick mumbled, remembering one of the cuter girls from his Theater Appreciation class. He hoped he’d given Amy an ‘A’ on her last exam, but couldn’t remember. “Well, don’t believe everything you hear,” he joked lamely.

Nicole laughed and tossed her head, flipping the hair out of her face. “No, no,” she smiled, “it was all good! Plus, I saw you in ‘Cyrano’. You were great!”

“Oh, thanks,” Mick mumbled again.

“Oh, listen to me,” she smiled demurely, “telling you how good you are–as if what I say matters. I hope I didn’t–that is, what I mean….”

“No, no, it’s okay. I appreciate it.”

There was a brief, awkward silence, and then Nicole smiled and glanced nervously at the casting board. “I’m really excited about getting a chance to work with you,” she said.

“Oh, yeah?” Mick replied, hoping she couldn’t see his heart thumping in his chest. “You 7 dak porno got a part, eh? Congratulations.”

“‘Fraid so,” she shrugged.

“Me, too, huh?” Nicole laughed again, as if he’d just made another joke. “What am I? First or second spear-chucker?”

“Uh-no–‘fraid not,” she chuckled. She nodded toward the board again. “You haven’t seen it?” Mick shook his head and stepped over to survey the cast list. “Ah-well–you’re Petruchio–of course!” she stammered. “And I’m–well, uh, I’m afraid I’m Kate.”

Mick stared at the list dumbly for a moment, hardly believing his eyes and ears. The female lead!? Nicole Chapin was going to be playing Kate!? Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, God! he thought.

“… I know I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’ll work really, really hard …,” he heard Nicole saying.

At first, Mick was only dimly aware that Nicole was blabbering away at him, lost as he was in his own fantasy. But then he understood: My God! She’s apologizing! She thinks I might be upset that she got the part!

It was unusual for a sophomore to get cast at all in a major university production, much less a leading role. Lots of more experienced actresses had auditioned for this choice role, and there would be all sorts of gossip and bitching once word got around that the director had given the part to a sophomore. Some of the professors were not above using the “casting couch” to settle competitions for good roles, especially when an attractive coed like Nicole was auditioning, and Mick knew that she would be suspected of sleeping her way into the role. She was nervous, he realized, seeing her in a completely new light from the cool, elegant Ice Princess he’d seen parading down the halls.

Impulsively, he reached out and placed a finger to her lips. “Sssshhhhh,” he said softly, trying to give her a reassuring smile. Nicole was so surprised by this that she stopped mid-sentence. “I know you’re gonna do just fine,” Mick told her firmly, placing his hand on her upper arm and looking her in the eye. He gave her arm a reassuring pat, and then turned and walked away. “Let’s just try to have some fun, all right?” he called back to her as he started up the stairs to his office. As he turned the corner, he glanced back to see Nicole standing there looking at him with her mouth still open.


For the next month, Mick and Nicole spent 6 nights a week pretending to be strong-willed, passionate lovers. And, as often happens in these circumstances, building the fire between their characters each night generated some sparks between Mick and Nicole, as well. Before long, the rest of the cast noticed that the two of them were flirting and teasing and bickering with each other offstage in a fashion similar to how their characters behaved onstage, and there were times during some of the rehearsals when no one could tell whether the heat they were putting out was from the actors or the characters.

Mick felt like he had died and gone to heaven. Not only was he getting to spend a helluva lot of time with a girl he had often fantasized about, but playing a strong, rakish character like Petruchio had emboldened him in a way that he had never experienced with a woman. Just a few weeks ago, he didn’t know how to approach her or what to say to her. But now, he thought nothing of talking to her (often quite crudely), touching her (often quite familiarly), even going out with her after rehearsals for drinks or a bite to eat. True, there were always other actors around when he did these things, but before long, he told himself, he’d make his move…. Each night, he’d go to bed fantasizing about “taming” Nicole–and in a much more graphic way than Shakespeare presented it.

But then one evening before rehearsal, Rob, another actor in the show, pulled Mick aside and casually asked, “So … have you fucked her yet?”

“Fucked who?” Mick replied, trying to conceal his discomfort. He was startled when Rob laughed and poked him in the ribs.

“Yeah, right–‘who’?–that’s a good one.”

“What are you talking about?” Mick protested, still trying to maintain his façade.

Rob stopped chuckling and looked at Mick strangely. He shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, all right, have it your way. But, for what it’s worth, a word to the wise: if you haven’t fucked her yet, you better do it soon,” he smiled conspiratorially. “She wants your dick, man–and don’t tell me you haven’t noticed!” he added in such as way as to let Mick know that he wouldn’t listen to any bullshit. “And Nicole always gets what she wants, in case you haven’t heard,” Rob grinned. “No use fighting it. I mean, who the hell could resist popping a babe like that? But you better get it while it’s hot–ol’ Nicole has a short attention span, if you know what I mean.” He clapped Mick on the shoulder again and walked off, cackling merrily to himself and shaking his head.

Rob hadn’t said anything that Mick hadn’t alman porno already heard. Even he was able to pick up on the signals she’d been sending. And he’d heard some of the gossip that had been circulating lately: about Nick “always getting her man”; about her supposedly bragging to some of her friends about being the first girl on campus to fuck him; about her plans to seduce him at the cast party; about the wagers over who would end up “taming” whom.

A lot of this was probably bullshit, Mick told himself, or just jealousy. And–for Chrissakes!–he wanted her to fuck him! But the realization that if he did end up fucking her, everyone would think she’d somehow “won” and he’d “lost” gnawed at his pride. The thought that he was going to end up as just another notch on some girl’s bedpost irritated him. And that only made it worse: after all, guys aren’t supposed to care about that–just so long as they get laid. Maybe he was taking this Petruchio character a little too seriously, he told himself wistfully.

During the run of the show, Mick and Nick managed to sublimate their personal battle and give a fine series of performances. A lot of people in the department were skeptical of Nicole’s ability to do the part, predicting that Mick would “blow her off the stage.” But for whatever reason–talent, hard work, or personal investment–Nicole rose the occasion. The passion and sexual tension between the characters onstage was “thoroughly believable,” according to the campus newspaper, which gave everyone in the cast a good chuckle.

After the final performance, though, while everyone else in the cast and crew exchanged hugs and kisses and made plans for the big blowout at the director’s party, Mick quietly took off his makeup, changed his clothes, and made his apologies to the director: he wasn’t feeling well, he said, and didn’t think he’d be able to make it to the cast party.

All the rumors about Nicole’s plans to seduce him that night had finally got the better of him, and he’d decided that in order to keep his pride, he would have to give up his own desires. Because he knew one or the other of them would make some kind of move at the party, he thought it best just to avoid the event altogether. Instead, he would pick up a bottle of scotch, trudge back to his apartment, and drink himself into a stupor to start the long, painful process of purging her from his imagination. After feeling “whipped” for most of the last decade with his ex, he wasn’t about to let some teenaged bitch “tame” him, he told himself. Fortunately, he’d managed to avoid her backstage after the show–especially after what had happened.

As the curtain had come down for the last time, they’d exchanged their usual quick congratulatory kiss on the cheek. The lights came down, and they dashed offstage with the rest of the cast, still holding hands from their curtain call. But when they reached the wings, Nicole suddenly stopped, pulled him close to her and planted a big kiss on his lips. Mick was doubly surprised when her mouth opened and she slipped him her her tongue. He heard her sigh when he gave her his tongue in return, and she sucked on it hungrily. They might have started ripping each other’s costumes off right then and there–if the backstage lights hadn’t suddenly snapped on. With their tongues still down each other’s throats, they opened their eyes to discover that they were standing right in the middle of the cast and crew! Instantly, they broke apart, too embarrassed to do anything but dash toward their separate dressing rooms, while the others laughed or groaned or made crude remarks.

Mick stepped out the back door of the theater, breathing a sigh of relief at having made his escape. Then he heard her call his name.

“I wondered where you were,” she said, moving toward him from out of the shadows.

“Oh, hey, Nicole,” he stammered. “Yeah, me too–wondered where you were, I mean.” She held up her cigarette and shrugged. “Yeah, good idea,” he laughed, nervously fumbling for his own pack. He pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips, and she held out her hand and flicked her lighter for him. He leaned forward into the flame and mumbled his thanks.

“Suck ’til it gets red,” she purred, repeating one of the stupid lines he’d used on her in the previous weeks. Mick was unable to think of a witty reply at that moment, because when he leaned down for a light, he noticed that Nicole apparently hadn’t finished dressing before taking her cigarette break. She had pulled on a pair of jeans and a man’s sport coat–but there was nothing underneath the coat except skin. She was flashing him unashamedly in the dim glow of the lighter’s flame, and he sucked the cigarette way past the point of getting red as he stared at her pert little tits hanging there inches from his face, the dark nipples puckered up in the cold night air. After a moment, she snapped the lighter off and chuckled. He took a long, deep drag, and exhaled audibly. “Feel better now?” she teased.

All he could do was grunt in reply, and they stood there for a second smoking in silence until he could stand it no more. “Um, look, Nicole–it’s been great. You were great–I had a great time . . . working with you and all. . . .”