by Poppet
Once I met the grandparents approval I was put in a chauffeured Rolls Royce with my belongings and shipped off to my own flat in Cambridge. I’m told everything I require has been provided, including a weekly allowance for tipping and social engagements and unforeseen circumstances, and to not let the team down.
‘Do not disappoint us, Christopher.’
I won’t. No way will I ever disappoint anyone ever again, although I do think I won’t be hearing the word love coming from their bitter mouths anytime soon. They’re not exactly welcoming.
It’s like joining the illuminati, what is discussed with the family stays with the family. And I am not to mention Amy, to them or anyone else for that matter. So here I am in the swanky digs of the privileged. I was so looking forward to this but haven’t had two seconds to breathe since enrolling.
It’s on the second weekend in December that I finally let loose. I’ve made friends easily, deliberately adopted the enunciation of my peers, pushing myself to sound local as much as possible, when I attend a house party at James’s place.
My chauffeur drives me, and will be driving me home too. It’s after I’ve had a significant amount of alcohol that I find myself alone on the upper balcony, staring out into the night, inhaling fresh air because it seems everyone smokes these days.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, I didn’t realize this spot was taken.”
Turning from my examination of the constellations because I mention them so many times in my autobiography, even sending wise men via guiding star to a stable in the wilderness, I see the damsel in the doorway.
Instantly my heart starts galloping. She’s clearly inebriated, but cute as a button. I’d do her in a nanosecond, given the opportunity.
“Join me, I don’t mind sharing my solitude,” I tell her.
“I’m Evelyn,” she giggles, stumbling towards me, bathing her pale hair in moonlight. It brushes silver over her porcelain skin, making her lips seem too rosy, her eyelashes too dark, too perfect. She barely reaches my chest, and in this moment I truly feel like god. This is what I must have felt the first time I looked down on Eve. Her name! Evelyn. Eve.
“I’m Christopher,” I smile, flexing my muscles, standing a little straighter.
“Oooh, it’s chilly out here,” she frowns, looking around the balcony as if the fire angel will magically appear to burn a bush to warm her toes.
“I’ll share some heat too, if you don’t mind my arm around you?” I offer.
“Christ, I’m absolutely slaughtered,” she complains, stepping into my lifted arm and cozying up to my side, snuggling so tight everything in me hardens with the proximity.
She just called me Christ. She already knows I’m god, probably because she’s got her guard down and her spirit open with the holy wine in her veins. Isn’t it odd how chicks like to drink wine? It’s the only thing my biblical namesake speaks of on the alcohol spectrum, plus it’s the only drink they have in church.
Maybe they know they’re deficient, hoping wine will help.
Only my spirit inside you can help with that, darlin’.
“So tell me, Eve, how is it that you’re so toasted?”
“Forgot to have tea,” she mumbles, leaning heavily against me, staring up like she’s enamored, her hand stroking the knit of my sweater over my chest. “You’re awfully handsome. Has anyone told you that you’re delicious?”
“Not recently,” I laugh, wondering why I’m being so formal. It must be that little chitchat I had with the coffin dodger. All the gold and silver will be mine.
Her petite hand lifts off my chest, and she reaches up, tracing my lips, “Oh. Soft! I love it when guys have soft lips.”
“Indeed,” I smirk. “I have a penchant for soft lips myself.”
“You’re not drinking?” she asks, looking for my drink, using the opportunity to press her breasts into my midriff while she swings around me.
“I’m trying to clear my head.”
“And I’m intruding?” she asks.
“Not at all,” I assure her. “The company is welcome.”
“You’re very gentlemanly. It’s sexy.”
“Are you dropping hints, Miss Eve?”
“I thought you’d never bloody notice. I’ve been eyeballing you since you arrived.”
This snippet of information warms my cavernous soul. “You have? And you openly confess it to me?”
“I know! What the hell is wrong with me? You have a way of drawing out my secrets.”
“All of them?” I tease, holding her closer, enjoying the way she makes me feel.
“Well if we go full on, I’ll admit I was hoping you’d take me to one of these enormous bedrooms and rub my feet for me.”
“Rub your feet? Ha, I don’t know. I think I might require some persuasion before commencing foot rubbing in a secluded boudoir.”
We can do rubbing, but it won’t be feet.
“I’ve been dancing all night,” she whines, resting her forehead on my pecs. Then she wilts her head right back, staring up at me with her chin resting on my muscles, and all I want to do is bend down and kiss that pouty mouth. I’ll be eighteen next week and surely way overdue time for my first kiss.
Sliding my hand to cup her cheek, nicking into her hair, I lean in and press my lips to hers, savoring the soft depression, the taste of peach cobbler on her exhalations, or is that peach schnapps?
Delving into her mouth with my tongue I taste her, deciding it has to be schnapps. Peach alcohol, whatever it is.
She gasps into my mouth, leaning so heavily against me that I’m holding her up. The sensation of lips on lips is intoxicating, my groin is so tight with ache I feel like I’m about to explode, and I maneuver to pick her up, carrying her back inside, never ending our kiss.
Soft cashmere clad arms encircle my neck, her dainty kitten heel shoes almost falling off her feet, but she kisses me while I walk with one eye on where we’re going with such fervor that my skin is turning hot.
After the seventh door I find an unoccupied bedroom and stride in, kicking the door shut, then carefully hefting my arms to lock it behind us. It wouldn’t do to tarnish the family’s reputation with witnesses. Walking us to the bed, I lean down, resting her on the plush velvet comforter, bracing over her and extending my kiss to her neck, tasting perfume, feeling warmth, inhaling lilies.
Without aplomb the lass slides her hands under my sweater, yanking my shirt from my jeans, and heading for my buckle.
Is she a virgin? Do I care?
“Lie back,” she orders when I pull away from my oral exploration to question her actions.
“Yes ma’am,” I grin, complying because she seems to know what she’s doing and I haven’t got a clue.
“You American?” she asks, getting my belt unbuckled, shortly followed by my top button and my fly, her soft hands reaching into my boxers and yanking my penis out of its prison.
“I am,” I say, determined to keep my voice even and suave.
“Holey moley, you’re so exotic!” she enthuses, and before I even know her age or last name she has my cock in her mouth, her head bopping up and down while heaven sucks me into a divine dimension.
I’m already so hard and horny that I’m convulsing with orgasm, the feeling the best in the universe. I’ve lived through a lot of pain in my short life, but this, now I understand why Adam only cared about pussy. Holy hell, I just want to stick it inside her, to never stop sliding in and out of that wet heat, I need to paint her in my cum and never stop.
“Do you have a rubber?” she asks, wiping her mouth, unzipping her dress and worming out of it on the bed next to me.
The sight of her in her bra and knickers, with those suspenders holding her stockings up, I’m instantly hard again.
“No, sorry, I wasn’t planning –”
“It’s okay. I’m on the pill. Great invention, right?”
“Yeah,” I mumble, sliding my touch over her skin, cupping the plump boob, giving it a squeeze, transfixed with the
freshly exposed English rose nipples.
And then the audacious woman straddles me after hauling my jeans down off, sliding me inside her, and goes to work on me like she’s in a rodeo and she needs the top score. The fourth of July pales to the spots dancing across my vision, my entire being funneled to my cock, to the incredible friction, the way she pulls my skin up and then slides it down again with the friction of her snatch, siphoning something ethereal from my thighs and spine and abdomen, the sensation growing until I’m shuddering with tension, holding her legs down, hard, while I spasm inside her, my heart flatlining before drilling for equilibrium.
It’s so unique and so perfect. It’s incredible, I just want to do it again. Adam always wanted to be on top, I have to do it too, see what the fucking attraction is.
Rolling her, I pump in and out a few times to regain rigidity, then pause just long enough to wrestle my shirt and sweater off. I’m proud of my penis, he just keeps on bouncing back to hard like a fucking jack-in-the-box. He’s in the box alright.
“Oh my god, you’ve got tattoos! You’re such a surprise. I knew you were different, you’re such a rebel.”
That I am. Just look at me now.
“Yeah, I was a top boxer back home. When you expose your skin a lot, wearing nothing but silk boxers in front of a crowd, it helps. It’s a way to be clothed without wearing any.”
“Oh my god, Christopher. I didn’t think you could get any hotter, but you’re lish as hell!”
I shut her up with another deep kiss, enjoying the control of the supreme position.
Sliding in and out, feeling inside her as if dowsing for epiphanies, I devour the power surging through me. This is how it should be, she’s so small and soft under me, her breath washes me with glory in this position, and her nipples pin into my skin as if demanding adoration.
The more I think about her tits and skin and twat, the harder I get, the deeper I feel, the longer I plunge, until I’m grinding up into her in a desperate bid to get even deeper. That’s when her legs clamp around my hips, her feet holding me deep inside her, a squeal of climax breaking the rush of sex induced breathing.
We’re both heaving as if we’ve been running all night, yet the way she hungers for me, her body squeezing my cock, every twitch is like a lightning rod to the slit in my penis, demanding ejaculation, commanding I pour it into her, and I strain when my back arches, my triceps bulging with the effort to hold off her and hold me deep, my ass almost cramps my glutes seize so tight, and I’m having an orgasm so hard it robs me of everything.
Instantly my mouth is arid, my skin sheathed in sweat, my grunts of satisfaction and pleasure.
Fuck but I knew what I was doing when I invented sex.
Leaning my forehead to hers, I stay still while I catch my breath, still deep inside her, owning her, all of her.
“You’re big, and that was amazing.”
“You weren’t too bad yourself,” I smile against her lips, stealing another kiss, not needing conversation, just needing to discover everything her body is hiding, holding, is.
I’ve had anal sex, I wonder how she feels about it?
Maybe next time, I’m satisfied with this, but I need to look at it.
Sliding out and sitting back onto my heels, holding her legs apart, I stare at the place I was just inside. It’s fascinating. Swishing my fingers inside her, I feel all around, pulling the hood up off her clit, looking at the lady penis. I wiggle it with my finger, amazed by how hard it is, when she convulses, shrieking my name. Christ.
“You’re so soft,” I murmur, still sliding my fingers in and out of her, the scent of our coitus overwhelming and strange. She has a smell, one that’s primeval, calling directly to my reptilian brain.
I love becoming a doctor, I know the names for everything because I’ve already read all of our assigned material for the year.
“And you’re so hard,” she laughs, roaming her hands over my shoulders, tracing my neck, staring up at me like she’s delivered.
I just delivered her from evil. No wonder she looks like that.
Her blonde hair has come loose, and I’m transfixed by the view of a naked woman with her legs either side of mine, naked as the first woman in Eden, looking rosy and happy and content.
She’s happy. I did that. I made her happy.
And oddly enough, she made me happy too.
What an intriguing development.
Four months later I’m eighteen, it’s a new year, and we’ve just returned to school after easter. I’ve decided to complicate my life. Four years undergraduate, then another four years to become a surgeon, and then another three for my residency. I’m going to be thirty years old before I get my degree. It feels like a lifetime away.
I haven’t been out partying since that night. I don’t wanna jinx it. It’s better to walk the tightrope of keeping my grandparents happy rather than partying with the rest of my friends. I do go out, to movies and sometimes the pub, but not often.
I’m here to be the best. Graduating top of my class is the only option available to me, plus I’m still bodybuilding, still boxing, and have now added martial arts and fencing to my strenuous routine.
It’s as I’m crossing the lawns to meet Harry, my driver, that I spot the sweetly familiar blonde lady walking my way. Her eyes are puffy like she’s been crying, and she looks ashamed to see me.
“Hello stranger,” she says, trying to smile, but failing.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite lady. How are you, sweetie?”
She looks around, crossing her arms tighter across her oversized sweater. “Can we sit somewhere? Talk?”
“Sure,” I nod, taking her hand in mine and leading her to the oak trees, choosing the bench beneath the largest boughs. Helping her to sit, I join her on the wooden bench with it’s bronze plaque. “What’s up?”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts.
Well blimey, I didn’t see that coming! I thought she was going to shoot the breeze, not ruin my life. “I beg your pardon?” I ask, reverting to established courtesy.
“I’m up the duff, guv.”
She’s just lucky I’ve been here long enough to know what that means. There’s a bun in the oven.
“And you assume it’s mine?” I say, scrutinizing her eye reaction to my words. I can read a liar at fifty paces, compliments of Adam.
“It is yours,” she whispers, sounding wounded by the insinuation.
“Eve, sorry luv, but you certainly didn’t strike me as a blushing virgin when you suggested we cloister ourselves away in an unoccupied bedroom, and then you strip me and stick my cock in your mouth without me even knowing you for half an hour.”
Leaning in, she hisses, “I didn’t want you to think I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“What exactly were you doing? I thought you said you were on the pill.”
“I am, but the doctor made me stop it now that I’m preggers. Sometimes it fails, it’s not always one hundred percent effective.”
“Clearly, I think you being pregnant establishes that fact.”
“Christopher, I promise, it’s yours.”
“Why is it mine, Evelyn? Because of who I am?”
“No, because I was a sodding virgin, that’s why you arse!”
“Like hell you were!”
“Shhhh, keep your voice down. And it’s true!”
“Oh really? Then where the hell did you learn moves like that?” There’s no way I’m disclosing I was a virgin too.
“Dirty movies. And spying on my roommate. It’s the age of liberation, I didn’t want to die a virgin. I wanted to be a woman of the world.”
“Dirty movies?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of moral compass do you have? If you choose to addle your brain with lascivious material this is exactly what happens. Unmarried and pregnant.”
“Christ! You sound like my priest. I didn’t come here for you to judge me Christopher, I came here because I don’t know what to do.”
Thinking
of Amy, I lean n and whisper the way Adam used to whisper he hates me. “I’ll tell you what you won’t be doing, you won’t be aborting that baby.” He’s my firstborn son. The son of God.
“We’ll have to get married,” she mumbles, nicking her nails together with fidgeting annoyance.
I’m screwed. Royally and totally screwed. There’s no way I’ll get my inheritance with a scandal like this. There’s only one thing to do, send her to Steve. He has my cash in his safe. It’s enough to support her, and I’ll wire money home from my weekly allowance. I have to try and save this clusterfuck from being worse than it is.
“Eve, how do you feel about running away? I have a house in Idaho, and I left a fair amount of funds with my mate Steve. He’ll look after you. I can’t leave or l marry you until I get my inheritance. Don’t screw this up for me. It’s a good deal considering Joseph and Mary were’t married when Jesus was born, and she had to have him in a sodding barn.”
“Like some rotten dirty secret? So you can screw whoever you want while I’m stuck with your baby, alone, around strangers?”
“No. My child will never be a dirty secret. He’ll be my pride and joy, my legacy, and you will be treated with love and respect as long as you love and respect him and me.” Dropping the civility, I warn her, “I do not tolerate abuse. It’s not a mother’s place to discipline her child, that’s the father’s role. If word ever reaches to me that you’ve hurt him, I’ll bury you. Understand?”
“Are you for real? You really mean this? That I run away? And you’ll support me AND the baby?”
“I mean every word of it. I don’t waste words on trivialities or placations.”
“Okay,” she whispers, accepting my terms.
“Thank you,” I smile, pulling her into my embrace, giving her a heartfelt hug. “I’ll look after both of you, I promise. And I’ll be able to do it a damn sight better once my ancient grandparents kick the bucket. Think of it longterm. You’ll be a very wealthy women in a few years if you do this.”
“What are you studying?” she asks, looking at the opulent architecture around her, seeming more relaxed now.
“Medicine.”
She looks pleased as patty when she looks back at me. “You’re going to be a doctor?”