Noah Cicero - Best Behavior

I took Petra's shirt off. It was a pretty sight. Her flesh was nice and dark. It wasn't tan, she was naturally dark. She smiled when I pulled her shirt off. Then I noticed a birthmark on her shoulder. She saw me looking at it and said, “Don't look at it. It's a birthmark.”

“I seriously don't care if you have a birthmark.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I'm making it up.”

“What if you can't have sex with me,” said Petra.

“I don't think that will be a problem.”

“It could be a problem,” she said with concern.

“Do you repeat this dialogue every time you have sex with someone for the first time?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, after you've had this dialogue did the man not have sex with you?”

“Well, you might be different.”

“Why would I be different?” I said.

“Because, I don't know.”

“I don't care if you have a birthmark, I wouldn't care if you only had one arm.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I'm lying. I'm going to leave right now and get a hotel and a prostitute without a birthmark.”

She laughed and said, “You're weird.”

“I'm going to take your pants off now and it is going to be awesome.”

“That sounds good.”

I took her pants off. She lay there in her underwear and bra. I was hoping she would take her bra off herself because I hate doing that. I feel like I'm her slave taking her clothes off. Women never take my clothes off. Probably because I'm an ass. I stood up next to the bed and took my clothes off. I was standing there in my boxers. For some reason unknown to me and all of Western Civilization we feel it is important to do kissing and grinding in our undergarments before we fully take off our underwear. We kissed and rubbed our clothed genitals against each other but eventually we took off our underwear. It was predictable. Sex seemed so much like a math problem, it was disheartening at times. When having sex I came to wish something really weird would happen. Like she would start punching me in the face and tell me I was bad at cooking. Or get a coat hanger and beat me with it. Or run around the room throwing things at my head like lamps and computer monitors. Nothing like that ever happened.

After we took off all of our clothes she laid back and allowed me to put my penis in her wet vagina. It went easily. Every time my penis enters into a vagina I think, “This is serious, take this seriously, this is really happening, you are really having sex, Benny with another person that is not you or your hand or the girls on the Internet. You must focus and try to give the impression that you aren't nuts and can have sex like a normal person.” I don't really like to have sex with my penis. It is an okay penis but not a real big one like a porn cock. Porn cocks are big and manly and awesome in their power. My penis holds no power. Her vagina was slightly tight, not like a girl in high school but it had maintained tightness over the years.

She said as she laid on her back, “Asian girls have tight pussies don't they? We never get loose.”

“Do you have statistical evidence for that? Have you run that through an SPSS or something?”

She laughed and thought I was being funny. I was being totally serious.

I started pumping her. I liked looking down at her pretty face. I kept touching her face while pumping. Touching her face didn't make me hot, I just liked touching it. She made noises. I enjoyed hearing her noises. I tried to tell myself that those noises came from my sweet cock, but I knew getting a girl to make noises during sex wasn't that hard.

Then I laid on my back and she got on top. She pumped really hard. She was in a lot better shape than I was. I was panting and dying for a cigarette. I felt fat and that I needed to run laps. She kept pumping, going crazy, her butt wiggling, her belly flexing. I really liked her being on top because if it was bad sex then it was her fault.

Eventually I ate her vagina. I liked my head in between her thighs. Her thighs were little and strong. They were different than the big boned thighs of white and black women. I couldn't recall if I ever had sex with such a little woman. The woman I was going to marry was short, only 5 feet tall. But she was mostly Northern European and a quarter estranged Israeli Jew and had some meat on her. Petra was definitely the smallest woman in bone structure that I had ever sex with. It was a new experience. A foreign one. She had sex just like white and black women but her body felt different when it touched mine. It was a strange experience causing just as many thoughts as arousal.

Petra went down on me. I always get scared the girl will bite my penis, instead of having a really great time I feel nervous. I looked down at her cute Asian head sucking my penis and felt a sense of pride. It was irrational and reasonless but I felt it anyway.

She stopped and her face came up to mine and we kissed. I really loved kissing her. I really liked the present. There was nothing terrible about laying there naked with her, half drunk, giving each other head and kissing.

We pulled the blankets over us. I spooned Petra.

It was morning. I was lying in bed with my clothes on when Petra got back from the store with eggs and vegetables. She made coffee and poured orange juice. I sat on the futon in the kitchen and listened to her talk about money. I sat and drank coffee. She stood over the stove cooking eggs mixed with green peppers, mushrooms and cheese.

Then the smoke alarm started going off. Petra got up on a stool and played with it. Her playing with it did nothing to help the problem. Lyndi Wood kept yelling from her bedroom to take the battery out. Petra said to me, “Benny, get up here and do this. I need to take care of the eggs.”

I got up on the stool. I stood on the stool playing with the smoke alarm. Most of it was made of plastic with little red wires and something that looked like a battery. The battery would not come out so I ripped it out. The alarm didn't stop. I said to Petra while looking at the alarm, “What the fuck is wrong with this thing? I took the fucking battery out.”

She looked up at the alarm and said, “Punch it.”

“It's made of plastic. My hand will get all cut up.”

“Hmm, rip the whole thing out of the ceiling.”

I attempted to rip the whole thing out of the ceiling but nothing happened. The alarm persisted without remorse to make terrible electronic noises. I said, “That's all I can do. Just finish cooking quickly.”

“I don't like to rush cooking. I want you to like it.”

“I'm sure it'll be fine.”

“I'm worried.”

“How much more time do you need?”

“Like three minutes.”

“Well, I guess we can stand this horrible fucking noise for three minutes,” I said.

“I don't like discomfort.”

I got off the stool. “You'll live.”

“You are so blue collar,” she said jokingly.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah, only blue collar people say things like, 'you'll live.'”

“What do you usually do in this situation?”

“Bitch a lot.”

“After when you're done bitching what happens then?”

“I get drunk until things make sense.”

“Do you want to have my babies?”

She laughed and said, “I'm not ready to have kids.”

“You're 32 years old.”

“That doesn't mean I'm ready for that commitment yet.”

“Norman Mailer had like six wives and eight kids.”

“Norman Mailer was a Harvard grad, had money and you're a shiftless asshole.”

“A lot of shiftless assholes have babies,” I said.

“With shiftless women. I'm not a shiftless woman. I'm educated, I'll have a nice forty hour a week job soon that'll pay good money and give me health care. I'll be on my feet and living a good easy life here on the lower east side. You'll be in Ohio half starving; you're like some kind of martyr.”