Coming Clean


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"Leave it to me, the girl of my dreams happens to be the outdoor type," Arthur quipped, breathing heavily and looking a touch dazed. He had reason. He had even let her drive his car, which was saying something, and now they stood in his living room, her resplendent in the tightest pair of short jogging shorts he'd ever seen, and himself, recovering from the wildest sneezing fit she'd ever seen.

"Lucky you," Sharon smiled, towelling the sweat from his forehead.

He sniffled, rubbing his nose, and she half-expected that at any moment, he'd be off again. "Oh, really? Lucky?"

"If I wasn't, I'd probably weigh eight hundred pounds." As if to demonstrate that she did * not *, in fact, weigh eight hundred pounds, she snaked her arms behind his head, allowing the towel to drop to the floor, leaning in, almost forcing him to put his arms around her waist.

"Oh... sniff... I can believe it-what * was * that thing you were eating last dight... huh... sniff?" He licked his lips and genuinely hoped he wouldn't have to pull away with an attack of the sneezes-she hoped he'd * have* the attack of sneezes, but not pull away.

"Coffee-glazed duck-skin on, pan seared, shrimp etouffee, heavy on the butter, green beans, corn bread, three Hurricanes, pecan pie, and I think it was most of your ice cream, followed by Irish coffee, and a so-so '91 Laforge Cabernet Sauvignon. And cheese."

"I... hummm... protest. That was a good wine. Sniff... duck, you * should * weigh... hhhh... eehhh... .uuuhhhSHHHHHOOO!" Despite his firm efforts at sniffling back the sneeze, it came full-force, barreling out of his diaphragm and spraying the vicinity. Instinctively, he tried to jerk back, equally instinctively, she tightened her grip, and then offered a peck on the cheek.

"Poor Artie, my fault," she said, sympathetically. He gently extracted himself from her grip, and began looking for the handkerchief. It not being in his pocket, he made for the tissues on the dining room table, grabbed a handful, and blew.

After wiping carefully, he resumed. "Nine hundred pounds... and dno, it isn't * your* fault. I just forgot to take anything this borning... uh... uh-HESHHHH! USHHOOO!!!"

"I shouldn't make you run through every bit of tall grass I can find," she said, with a little mischief.

"Oh, so that was what you were doing. *Sniff *. Well, serves you right I cut it short, then." His upper lip quivered, delightfully, and his long lashes fluttered shut in anticipation. Sharon was not entirely sure that she was in love with him-but she was in love with his lashes, gently curling and usually damp, framing eyes of mercurial color and general blood-shot-ness. He blew again, and she was hard-pressed not to jump his bones then and there.

"Oh, I think I'll still get a work-out out of you," she grinned. "After we shower."

"Another two-mile run?" he asked, feigning innocence. "But it bothers my aller... "

She cut him off by advancing, and presenting a kiss. The kiss deepened, and she slid her hands around his hips to his buttocks, grasping firmly. His eyes widened in surprise-it was like she couldn't keep her hands off of him!

"God... a little run sure gets you going," he commented, as she moved from his lips to run a trail of kisses across his cheekbone to his ear.

"Sure... running. Watching you running. Short shorts," she murmured, her hands moving down, and then slipping back up so that her hands were * under* the bottoms of his shorts. Her fingertips brushed at his sweat-damp briefs and bare legs.

He sniffled. "Speaking of running," he commented, raising the tissues back to his face. When he blew, gently, he thought, so as not to be a turn-off, he wondered at what he just heard from her. Was that a moan?

Perhaps, perhaps not. "Poor baby. Pretty bad?"

He nodded. "Pretty bad. I could use a shower."

"Want help?" she offered.

He knew exactly the sort of help she'd be-not quite of the hygienic kind, but very... helpful. Nonetheless, he shook his head. "I really need to clean up... and stuff," he protested. And then, almost to punctuate the thought, his head bobbed with two, quick, forceful sneezes, "Ushhooo, shooo. Sniff."

"Don't be too long. I might just need one, too."

"You bet. I can even almosd smell you," he teased, and then sniffed, deeply and with congestion. His grin was dazzling. She resisted the urge to jump his bones again, and simply watched him bound up the stairs.

"I need a shower, all right," she said to herself. "A cold shower."

The last three weeks had really taken her by surprise, and she considered that she was playing with fire. She had only intended to pick up a handsome, gorgeously sneezy man-she never expected that the liaison would blossom into a relationship. But simply put, the man was nearly perfect. He was thoughtful, polite, generous, flexible and inventive in bed, and, to her amazement, almost constantly sneezing. At first, she had imagined that his aesthetically pleasing nose only misbehaved as it did due to her having come across it at that certain window of ragweed season that challenged many a proboscis, but she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he simply *was * a sneezy person. The detergent aisle of the supermarket sent him into a fit of hushed, almost stifled "ushooo's", a freshly mowed lawn made those lush lashes of his drip with allergic tears, and his nose explode with wet, explosive sternutations, and he insisted that his allergy season did, in fact, usually start some time in March. And when she asked, innocently enough, when it ended, he explained why he preferred artificial trees at Christmas. "And, you know... there's the colds," he added.

The thought pretty much rocked her little world. She couldn't have designed a happier nasal state of affairs, nor one more likely to apply the joy-buzzer to her limbic system. And he was so delightfully * accomodating *. Like right now-a two-mile run in mid-morning, almost guaranteeing he'd be a mess of runny-nosed sneezes and damp blows. Not that she set him up, but all the same. It was so easy. 

But all the same, it was treacherous waters all around-she half-expected he'd wonder eventually why it was always open-air picnic and running through tall grass with her, and why the sight of him pulling out the old snot rag generally had her dragging him off to a convenient bed, couch, or any other flat stable surface. And the truth would probably make him pretty uncomfortable.

Hell, at times it even made her uncomfortable, and it was her fetish.

At any rate, she jogged up the stairs and shucked her clothes off in the bedroom, readying herself both for a shower and for what she imagined she would do afterwards. She heard the water shut off-it was a very brief shower he was having, and she kissed him on her way into the bathroom. He seemed very pink and drippy, and sniffly. In short-adorable. She also made her shower short, and exited the bathroom toweling herself off, finding him on the bed, perched on the edge with a handkerchief in hand. He was blowing, fiercely.

"Still have the nose trouble?" she asked, nonchalantly. He finished blowing, and sighed.

"More or less. My dose is really runnig." His very irritated eyes met hers. "I don't dnow if I'b going to be much fun." He sniffled, gently. "I'mb kind of a mess."

"Oh," she cooed, "You know, even when you're a mess, you look like a lot of... fun." Her sympathetic look turned into her typical lewd grin, and he responded with a wry smile.

"No off switch."

"Not even very good brakes," she added. She stepped over to the side of the bed, sat next to him, and put her arm around him and her head on his shoulder. "But I know you feel lousy."

He fought off a terrible tingling sensation as he debated the potential for sex. With Sharon, he had discovered that "I know you feel lousy" never meant: "We can do it later," but generally seemed to mean, "I'll try to be gentle." She had varying degrees of success with being gentle, but one thing she always seemed to be-was *interested *. Having once perused her rather extensive library, and noted the number of medically themed books, he halfway wondered if she had a kink for taking care of him. If so, she had chosen a fascinating course of therapy-hours of intensive, enthusiastic sex. It may not have done a thing for his allergies, but it was wonderful for his morale. "I just need to close by eyes... sniff, uh... " He wrinkled his nose, clenching his jaw. God, but his nose was burning. "Um... I'm really itchy."

"I've got an idea... washcloth?"


"Hold on," she said, already up and heading for the bathroom. He heard water running, and, unable to hold them back any longer, he sneezed a few times against his arm. "Ussshh-shhhaaa, usshhaaa---UUUSSSHHOOO!" She came back bearing a damp washcloth.

"Bring the face," she said, fairly gently, holding out her hand. He closed his eyes and let her place the cloth over his eyes; it felt cool and soothing. "It's just a little cool water-and a drop of eucalyptus. Might make your nose run a little more... but should be okay for your poor eyes." Her lips felt warm on his and warmer still as they wetly trailed up his cheek. He sighed, and let her push him back on the bed, horizontal. 

"How's the nose, sweetie?"

"Uh... ogay... huhhhh... "

"Need to blow?" she asked. It *sounded * innocent. Damnit. Sharon was already reaching for the tissues by the side of the bed.

He considered for a second, and sniffled. * Yes. * He surely could use a tissue, but it was a damn importunity, her showing this fascination for his nose-and not the several other parts of him that could use tending to. "Sniff... maybe... "

His hand found hers-full of tissues-at least three. Good god, how many did she suspect he needed? He took them, and still laying back, blew, gently, so as not to disturb the nice cool washcloth over his eyes. It *was * nice. It was not nearly as cool, but at least he didn't feel like his eyes were on fire. He continued blowing for a while, wondering if her eyes were simply watching him. Satisfied, probably. She having tended to him-essentially so she could screw him. Waiting for him to be over his awful allergy attack. When he took the tissues from his face, he sniffled, still feeling the aggravation in his nasal passages. But he was sure what would happen next, and puckered his lips in anticipation-not at all surprised when her mouth covered his own. Her body seemed to snuggle up next to his, and he sighed, almost against his will-her body didn't have to feel that great against his-did it?

Damn. She had no clothing on, and was still warm... naked... and wanting him. It felt very good. His nose one the other hand... well, not actually attached to any hand... or, for that matter, touching his hand... 

He brought the tissues back up to his face, feeling the burn in his sinuses. "Shooo... ahhh-shhooooo."

"Bless you, baby," Sharon said, but her voice sounded just a touch more emotional. It sounded... 


He sniffled. "Scuse me."

"Poor Artie and his allergies... you know, you're already excused." She pressed her lips to his neck, and he could feel himself getting hard, just feeling her willing body pressing against his. "You've got those sneezes again."

"I'm sorry. You... know... uh... ushhooo! Ushooo! I can't really help it... "

"God, Artie. Shhhh." Her lips were covering his. "I know you'll have the sneezes... you're all itchy."

"But I'b... um... get back... shooo! Ushoooo! Shoo. Ushhooo! Shooo! Ushooo!" he sneezed, suddenly, and forcefully. She backed up perhaps an inch or two, and carressed his bare hip with one gentle hand.

"My poor Artie."

"I've got the sneezes." Would she get the hint? He was a mess-not exactly in any condition for a make-out session.

"Hell yeah, poor baby."

Her proximity was still such that she was getting sprayed. "You don't like me sneezing on you, do you?" he asked, completely out of the blue-completely to Sharon's surprise. To which, unprepared, she replied-

"Well, I don't mind it. You have... cute sneezes."

The look on his face was one of surprise and confusion. He raised himself up, and demanded, "Cute?"

Sharon nodded. "Yeah. Cute sneezes. I mean... Artie, sweetie... you have a great nose."

"Okay, you like my nose," he allowed, but then realized her answer made no sense. "I mean... what?"

She laughed, trying to explain in a way that didn't sound slightly warped. "Damnit... cute nose... cute face... damn... you know I think you're gorgeous."

He sniffled. "Gorgeous-you know-you are... but what do sneezes have... uh... to do... " his nose wrinkled, agitated. "Um... to do with... uh... essshhooo, uh---eshooo, uhssshooooooo!"

"Your gorgeous nose makes a whole lot of cute sneezes," she answered, simply, and then she looked away. "Well, *I * think you have some very cute sneezes."

He looked at her, considering her statement.

"Cute sneezes?"

There it was, said out loud. No possibility existed for the retraction of the wild assertion that his sneezes were cute. She felt color creeping into her face. "Well, to me, anyway."

"Really," he said, and then sniffled. "You... find my sneezes... * cute.*" 

She laughed. "You'd rather I said... I don't know, sexy?"

"Well, I wouldn't go *that * far," he admitted.

Feeling brave, she asked, "What if I said... I might?"

"Might what? Say I have sexy sneezes?"

The conversation was almost more than she could humanly take, yet was made all the more compelling for him because it was * about * him. As if to provide an example of the topic of conversation, his mouth trembled ever so slightly, and, bringing the hand with the tissues back to his face, he sneezed, twice, his head snapping forward. He glanced at her over the top of the tissues, eyes watery, but fascinated by her expression. She bit her lip.

"What's not to like?" she offered, as if by way of explanation. He blew, carefully, and then, equally carefully, regarded her. Her posture was mildly defensive, slightly embarrassed. He drew the conclusion that she was telling the truth.

"Um... just mine, or sneezes in general?" he asked then, with genuine interest. The idea actually had him intrigued.

"Well, yours, mostly. It doesn't freak you out... "

He shook his head, and lifted his face to hers so that they could kiss, which made her feel a world better about the direction of the conversation.

"... But yeah, I kind of like sneezes, in general. It's a fetish."

"I see," he answered, thoughtfully, his sinuses delicately throbbing. He *saw *, all right. He considered the last few weeks of rather intense sex and for a split second pondered that his allergic condition must have gratified her tremendously. But on reflection, her sensual attention had gratified him rather tremendously. When his intellect turned the scenario around a few times, he realized how very much in his favor this little admission happened to be. "So... if you *like * sneezes... in general... then, sniff... you bust really... heh... heh... " He swallowed, not wanting to sneeze just then. "Have a field day with me."

"You're... " She couldn't finish. "I mean, I *do * happen to like you for lots of reasons, Artie. You're gorgeous and sweet and smart... "

"No, that isn't exactly what I'm saying. I'm gorgeous and sweet and smart... and I sneeze constantly," he said, with a wicked expression that thrilled her down to her toes. "So, I guess I make you... pretty hot?"

The comment surprised her nearly as much as it thrilled her. "What do *you * think?" she demanded, laughing. "You're a damn wet dream come true."

He couldn't help it-he roared. "I can't believe you!" he exclaimed, once the laughter released it's hold on him.

"You think I'm a head case," she stated, smiling, but doubtful. He realized she was a little sensitive, and put his hand on her shoulder.

"No, no, I'm not laughing at you... I might be laughing at us, though." He touched her hair, gently. "I *said * we made a pretty well-matched couple."

She snuggled in closer. "I thought it was because we * looked * good together. I halfway think you want a mirror over the bed."

"Well, not over * your * bed, Sharon... it would interfere with the trapeze and swing set you want to put in," he said, making her squeeze him, roughly. "But what do you think?" He rolled back and held his hands up, making a box with his index fingers and thumbs. "Can't you see it?"

"You know-I always hoped I'd find someone as kinky as me," she mused. And then took a look at a face that betrayed wheels, subtly turning. Like one of his fine sports cars (he actually owned two), you could barely hear the hum of his engine, but nonetheless, it was a marvel of performance. "Artie, honey?"

"Sniff... I got a really great present once... from a maiden aunt... of a bottle of Apollo in Furs. You know, that's a really fine men's fragrance."

"Which, unless I'm mistaken, probably has a miserable effect on you," Sharon commented, caressing him even as she anticipated the train of his thought.

"The worst!" he agreed. "But you know, to please my maiden aunt, who was very... forceful... " He looked very wry, and Sharon pinched him where it wouldn't blind him.

"Mother's or father's side, this aunt?"

"Uh, both... friend of the family," he grinned. "I had to wear it... once. Just to please her... she never made me do it again. She wasn't as... amenable... to being sneezed on as you are."

"Sneezed on her... did you?"

"Even... sniff... I... uh... ushoo! Well, you *know * me. I do this all the time. But I really liked the bottle... "

"Well, it's a very expensive cologne... you pay for the bottle design, you know."

"Sniff... it has cachet," he admitted. "It looks good on my dresser. Sometimes, I spritz a little-like if I have a sneeze that won't come out."

"And what... brings this up?" Sharon asked, feeling her passion and curiosity rising in equal measure.

"Well, I never wear it. It's a $275 paperweight... that classically designed bottle. Full of pure nasal misery for yours truly." He started to get up, making his intent explicit.

"Sweetie... you'll get yourself sick. I mean, I'm... very turned on by the thought, but... "

He gently nudged at her shoulder to make her roll over onto her back, and then slid down on the bed. Touching her nest of pubic curls, he explained. "There's a favor of yours I've yet to return. You know the one."

She rapidly turned a brighter shade of pink. "I'm kind of like a two-year old. I see something I really like-I put it in my mouth."

With a gentlemanly delicacy, he kissed her soft bush, still only slightly damp from her shower. "I see something I really like. I'm tempted to do the same... but I'm very... you know. I sneeze a lot."

"Is that right?" Sharon asked, her voice strained.

"I might sneeze on it. Especially if it was scented with that rotten Apollo in Furs. I wouldn't be able to stop. You wouldn't like that... would you?"

"How would it get scented with... "

"Would you?" he asked again. His eyes were still teary and reddish, but bright and animated. "Care if I sneezed... there?" he asked while touching her lightly again.

She had never considered this particular possibility. It was enough to admit that she liked sneezes at all. "Well, I wouldn't... mind."

"Would you... like it?" He sniffled then, a little loudly, leaving her unable to tell if this was congestion... or punctuation.

"I think I would."

He got up in a flash, and found the chunky, yet elegant bottle on his dresser. He removed the top, and, brandishing the container, sighed. "I was wondering if you're familiar with the scent of this stuff."

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Well, I guess you might like it... "

He sprayed a bit of it in her general direction, and, truth be told, she did like the scent of it. It oddly evoked a combination of bay leaf and cedar-a fresh, spicy/woodsy scent, with a deeper undertone of leather and musk. If asked, she might have answered that it * did* smell like a Greek god in animal skin. Although she smiled at the unique combination-his nostrils flared. "Esshoooo, hushh... ushhhh," he sneezed, having hardly breathed in the least of the fragrant mist. "I don't think I cand spray... "

"No, don't put any on me... you're already starting," she chimed, worried about the state of his itchy eyes and occasionally wickedly sore sinuses. She had no intention of him hurting himself-certainly not before she had her fun with him. "And you already had that attack this morning."

He rubbed at his nose, his eyes watery, but playful. "And how was that?" The memory of the earlier sneezes made her close her eyes, blissfully.

"You know... you do that very well. Sneeze, you know?" she grinned.

"Lots of practice," he said, seriously. His finger pressed the underside of his nose. "I thing... uhhh... I'b... " He crouched down on the bed, taking the finger away from his nose. He breathed in, and let loose. "Huh-USSHHH! USSHH! USSHOOO!" 

The first few sneezes blasted out, wet and spraying, and her skin tingled-she was unused to the feeling of nasal spray in that area, but the notion made her wild. That sensation was then followed up by soft, warm lips, kissing her pubes gently before pressed firmly. "MMnnnnsccchhh, shhhhhh," he sneezed, stifling them against her. She threw her head back and moaned. With one eye closed, possibly beyond hope of reopening any time soon, he looked up to watch her in her ecstasy, and sneezed again, "Haaaahhh-SHHOOO! Shoo, shoo!" Both eyes now squeezed tight, he just had time between sneezes to gently push her legs further apart, allowing him more access to her pink, slick clit. Between sneezes, he tried kissing and licking, but was mostly sneezing, and with each sneeze she seemed to slowly writhe, the wet velvet of her skin brushing against his tear-streaked face. "Husshhooo, ushhooo," he pressed on, the bridge of his nose tickling against her lips, his own lips moving, salty and damp with fluid. His hands grasped at her thighs, fingers almost digging in as he continued to sneeze, almost out of breath. Sinuses agonized, he tried to sniff in, a weak "Snnnnkkkk." At the sound, Sharon reached her hand down, touching the top of his head.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, concerned.

He lifted his head from between her thighs, breathed in, and sneezed, a full, wet explosion, ""Hahhh-haaAACCCHOOOO! ACCHHHOOOO!" before trying to sniffle again. "Snnkkk... I'm good. Ha... USSSHOOOO!" He breathed, raggedly, and kissed her wet thigh. Brow furrowing, he sneezed again against her leg. "Ushh, ushhh, ussshooooo!" The damps breaths tickled her like mad. His fingers sought out her clit, and he massaged it, gently. "Just gettig hard do breathe. Ussshhhhoooo!"

She nodded and touched his damp face. "Please," she began. "You know what I want?"

He shook his head, still trying to clear his nose enough to breathe. She reached for another fistful of tissues, then stretched back up with them.

"I want you to blow that gorgeous nose of yours and let me make love to you." He took the offered tissues with one hand, but she put her own on top of the hand that had been massaging her. Kissing his cheek, she commented, "No reason to stop that, is there?" He shook his head, still with the tissues over his nose. He blew so long that she felt hypnotized by those shut lashes of his and the semi-soulful trumpet of his damp snoot. When he came up for air, he seemed a little remorseful.

"Sorry I had to stop."

"It's not stopping, it's changing position," she grinned. "Besides-I want a better look at your sneezy face."

"Oh, is that so?" he demanded, playfully. "That's what you're going to get... I... uh... USHHOOO! Think. USHH! USSHHOOO! Ussshooo, ussshhhh." He didn't bother covering his face with the tissues, but let the sneezes out, wondering how it was that the thought of * her * getting very excited, made *him * get so very excited. She was suddenly and fiercely embracing him, smothering him with kisses-if she was interested in him being able to breathe, she had a strange way of showing it.

"Damn... I'm telling you... (kiss)... Artie... cute (kiss) sneezes," she exclaimed.

"*Sniff * ... you are the only woman who has ever tode me dat... snkkkk... "

"Poor stuffy thing. You need to blow more?"

"Don't tell me you like that... HESSSHHHOOO... too?"

"Well," she answered, feeling brave. "It's a fetish."

He closed his eyes for a second-actually, they felt terribly puffy and itchy, and he really needed to shut them-and he considered it. Sneezing, blowing... sexy? Finding himself sneezing, explosively, against her ear, with his stiff manhood bobbing up against her stomach, it struck him that there * was * something sexy about it, after all. Just so long as it made this tall, outdoor-type blonde sex fiend happy.