by Nikki Sex
“Anyway, pain, shmain,” she adds with a forced chuckle. “I’m going to beat the crap out of everyone once I join that self-defense class.”
I don’t know much—but I can tell when Renata needs a hug.
I spread my arms wide and she melts into my embrace. My emotional girl. She’s tall, but light. With her slim limbs around my neck, I easily pick her up, carrying her against my chest like a bride across the threshold.
I want to marry her now. Today. I don’t want to put it off any longer.
My pulse kicks up when I look into her pretty blue eyes. For so long I felt as though I was a monster. Renata is light to my darkness, beauty to my ugliness. With her, I found peace.
Beautiful Renata, a woman who always considered she was a mouse. My ferocious little tiger is ready to go out and fight the world.
I know now I’m not a monster.
And Renata? Well, she is no mouse. She’s the bravest, smartest, kindest and most wonderful person I know. I’m the luckiest guy on Earth because she wants me.
Our eyes lock.
That incredible sense of closeness and connection sizzles between us. It isn’t merely sexual—this is something deeper, a bond that’s far more intense.
I need to kiss her.
When our lips touch, I suddenly remember a line from Alice in Wonderland. Alice asks the White Rabbit, ‘How long is forever?’ and the White Rabbit replies, ‘Sometimes, just one second.’
In this one eternal moment, I feel as though we’re joined together, fused heart to heart, almost as if we’re one person, not two. I wonder, maybe there is reincarnation. If so, I must have known her before.
I’m so close to her.
I feel as though I’ve loved Renata forever.
Chapter 54.
"Everybody always asks why do they go after children? Because you can easily manipulate them."
— Ishmael Beah
~~~
Gabriela Lopez
“I won’t! I won’t! You can’t make me!” the red-haired girl yelled, kicked, screamed and bit like the very devil. “And my name is Amy! Amy McDougal! I don’t belong here! I want to go home!”
“House Master, I can take her client for her,” Susie offered, scared and shaking. “Will that help?” Susie wanted to go home too, but mostly she was frightened for Pearl.
The little girl’s name is Pearl, Susie thought. She should know that by now. Why doesn’t she behave?
Susie came to the Big House just before her eighth birthday. For a very long time after she arrived, they gave her drugs. The drugs confused her and made her stop caring. If she cried because she missed her family, the next thing she knew, they gave her more drugs.
Why was this happening with Pearl? Was it her red hair?
The drugs must not have worked on Pearl. Susie hated witnessing this kind of confrontation. In her heart of hearts, she rebelled just as Pearl did. Someday she would escape—but only when it was safe.
This particular House Master was one of the mean ones. He was big, stern and fierce, but he was an adult. Kids always had to do what the adults said. When the House Master punished a child, he told everyone it was for his or her own good.
“Put her in isolation,” he growled to one of the supervisors. “I’ll deal with her later.”
“Yes, House Master,” said the frightened supervisor. Susie knew the woman was scared because even though she was a supervisor, she was trembling too. Looking down at her feet, the woman was unable to meet the House Master’s eyes.
Susie watched Pearl be taken away and wondered. Will Pearl be like the boy she once knew? The one who refused to behave? Nickolas Marshal, he’d said his name was.
They had called him Jimmy.
One day after Jimmy refused to behave, he disappeared. Mr. Max, one of the supervisors, told Susie Jimmy was dead. He’d been murdered and buried in the garden out back.
“That’s what happens to bad girls and boys,” said Mr. Max.
Susie had nightmares for a long, long time after that. While asleep, she dreamed it was nighttime and she was in the garden. Unable to move, she found herself lying in a grave. Dirt was being thrown on top of her.
Then she’d wake up screaming.
The supervisor gave her drugs until the nightmares went away. Thereafter, she was allowed to kept a light on when she slept because of her ongoing fear of the dark.
Susie wished she could talk to Pearl, to explain about the garden and why it was so important to be good. Unfortunately, she never had the chance. Just like Jimmy, Susie never saw Pearl again.
A few days later, she began to have nightmares once more.
Chapter 55.
“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden…”
— Oscar Wilde
~~~
Grant Wilkinson
Renata and I spend a good forty minutes on our double swing set. We compete, laugh and see just how high we can go. It’s great fun for both of us.
What a wonderful day.
When we’ve finally had enough, we’re both laughing and upbeat. Renata’s face is flushed, sweaty with effort. She looks delicious.
Grinning flirtatiously, in an exaggerated drawl I say, “Girl, y’all look so damn good I'm gonna take you inside and sop you up with a biscuit.”
This Southern saying cracks her up.
It’s midafternoon when we get back inside. I head straight for the refrigerator, open it and pull out the pitcher of homemade iced tea. I put ice in two glasses, fill them both, hand one glass to her.
“Thanks. I’ve had a really good day.”
“Me too.” I drink the entire glass, then pour myself another.
“I know the idea of hitting me freaked you out, especially after I told you the only thing that would cause me to leave you was violence. Talk about mixed messages. I must've really messed with your head.”
“Yeah, well… I got over it.”
“While you were doing the honors, I noticed you enjoyed playing with my ass. Are there any fantasies you want to tell me about?”
Hell, no!
I shake my head.
“You know, what your dad did to you was bad enough, but I’m thinking that your whole religious ‘burn in hellfire and brimstone’ upbringing has probably screwed you up even more. You were taught sodomy is a sin, right? Just what you needed—more reasons to be inhibited, guilty and ashamed.”
Sodomy? Jesus, I’ve never even said that word. I’ve never had the nerve.
I grit my teeth and keep my mouth shut. How can she talk so openly and easily about stuff like this? It’s a subtle yet effective tool, this casual manner of hers. I find myself wanting to speak nonchalantly too, even though I can’t.
“Grant, I know you too well not to make an educated guess. Want to hear what I think?”
I doubt it.
I give her an offhand, evasive shrug. She tilts her head, narrows her eyes and stares at me intently. Only years of experience allows me to keep a straight face.
Fucking hell.
“Did you ever try anal with one of your prostitutes?” she asks in her relaxed, conversational tone. Then she takes a sip of her iced tea.
What?
I’m not answering that. The woman has no filter—no subject is off limits. Remaining perfectly still, I attempt to hide my automatic response. It doesn’t work. Whatever reaction she notices sends her into a peal of laughter.
“I knew it!” Snickering, she nearly chokes on her tea. A broad grin spreads across her face. “You haven’t, have you? Even though I bet you wanted to.”
Why can’t I talk about this?
I don’t reply. I can’t.
“I knew you were an ass man. I’d be pretty unobservant not to notice. You can’t seem to get enough of mine. You’re just like André! There’s nothing he likes better than taking a woman in the ass, but you know, André being André, he’s probably fucked a man or two as well.”
My thoughts spin wildly.
I think my eyes are beginning to cross—or roll back in my head. Maybe I’ll pass out. I suspect that would be a good idea given the way this conversation is going.
André likes fucking asses? André butt fucks men, too? How in the hell does Renata know André’s sexual preferences?
I’m just trying to absorb this first salvo, when my girl goes back into her new, super excited, motor-mouth mode. For the love of God, the woman has a lot to say.
I rock back on my heels, still reeling from her last statement while she moves on.
“Tell me the truth, Grant. You’ve fantasized about anal sex, right?”
“Um… yes,” I admit, unable to meet her gaze.
“Ha! Probably all the time, I bet!” Her expression is gleeful. “Good for you!”
Why this both amuses and pleases her, I can’t figure out.
“Heavens, sodomy is no big deal,” she says. “Well, that’s not totally true, it can be dangerous for a woman—not as much of a risk for a man. Cross contamination, you know. Human feces contains a ton of bacteria, so women get urinary tract or kidney infections if both parties don’t pay attention—not that it’s dirty down there, or anything is visible.
“The best thing to do is to be careful. Enemas are more for self-assurance—they’re not really necessary. We’ve both been tested so you can go bareback. A generous amount of hand-warmed lube prevents friction tears, which can happen.” She laughs. “You are so going to love applying lube!
“Anyway, never go with what you’ve seen watching internet porn. Those actors do it all wrong. Fuck mouth, then pussy, or pussy then mouth—going from one to the other is fine. Ass to pussy? No way! Always fuck the anal passage last. End in the end, so to speak.” She laughs.
“It’s a good idea to only use, say your left hand, for anal play. Right hand for pussy,” she snickers, “and don’t mix them up. Anyway, it’s fun and no big deal, I’ll teach you the rules.”
Her machine gun, rapid-fire form of communication reminds me of my mother. Jesus. Am I marrying my mother? This left field thought is stupid. Renata is nothing like her.
With barely a pause, she continues, “In biblical times, when they put the fear of God into everyone about sodomy, it was for good reason. No antibiotics! Back then if you weren’t careful the women became septic and died. Women dying in droves went against that whole ‘go forth and multiply’ commandment.”
Her barrage trails off for a moment, her blue eyes light up. “On a personal note, the anus is full of nerve endings. It’s very sensitive.” She grins. “I find any attention there, through fingers, mouth or tongue incredible. Put a cock up there and it’s hot as hell. It’s going to be particularly awesome with you because you’re such an ass man—inhibited, but definitely keen.” Her sun bright grin is mischievous, naughty. “Don’t worry. You’ll get over that.”
After that onslaught of information, I’m rendered totally mute. My head spins. I can’t think of anything to say. I’m still stuck on the concept of André sodomizing men. Is he bi-sexual?
Thank God he never hit on me. I couldn’t have handled that. But how does Renata know what André likes sexually?
“So, just to be clear. I know what your father did to you, but you’ve never done it to someone else?” she asks.
“No,” I manage to choke out.
“Good, then I’ll be your first,” she says enthusiastically. “What an honor. Man, are you in for a treat! No problem, I’ve packed an enema kit somewhere in my stuff, just in case.” She winks, then downs her drink as though she’s in a hurry, as if she’s going to go right upstairs and give herself an enema to prepare for anal sex… with me.
Fuck.
Renata is normally hyper-aware of my moods, yet she hasn’t noticed how disturbed I am. Frowning, she suddenly notices.
“Grant, are you OK?”
I sit down heavily on a kitchen chair, take a few deep breaths. “I’m… not sure,” I say.
She pulls a chair up close to me, sits down, takes my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. Tell me what’s happening. Is it your past with your father that’s bothering you, or what?”
I shuffle through an array of upsetting thoughts and decide to start with the first one I think of. “I…” I hesitate, take a deep breath. “I went camping with André. We shared a tent. I’ve seen him naked and he’s seen me.”
“And…?”
“Somehow, learning he’s sexually attracted to men seems like a betrayal. I had no idea. He didn’t tell me. Now if feels as though he was a voyeur. It reminds me of my father.”
“Are you saying André’s behavior was similar to your father’s?”
“It feels like it.”
“What evidence do you have of that? Did he hit on you? Seem perverse? Did you catch him looking at you? Did he do anything odd?”
I snort. “Everything he does is odd—but no, he was fine. He was great, actually.” I flash though my memories and shake my head. “Truthfully, I was the one watching him all the time. Remember I told you about that compulsion I had to look at men’s dicks?”
“Yes, of course.”
“André was often naked when we were camping. He knew about my hang-up and was making it OK, you know? I was supposed to become accustomed to looking. He actually cured me of that issue. Now when I’m at a men’s urinal, I look or don’t look. It doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
She smiles. “I’m glad.”
I sigh. “André is nothing like my father. I’m just not that liberal-minded, I guess. I was comfortable with him, but I don’t think I would have been if I knew he liked having sex with men.”
“That makes sense. I don’t know if you’d call him bisexual or not—I think André simply doesn’t differentiate according to gender. He’s a sexual therapist for both sexes and incredibly good at it. I do know André adores women, but mainly? He likes all people, and people like him.”
We discuss this subject for quite a while, until I get it nailed down in my mind. André hasn’t betrayed me. I’m safe with him. Someday we’ll probably discuss my thoughts on the matter. Truthfully, a counselor’s sexual orientation isn’t really the client’s business I suppose.
“OK, so what else has you tied in knots?” she asks.
My smile is uneasy. “I do feel dirty and perverse when it comes to my obsessive interest in anal sex. It feels like a sin. Perhaps that’s part of what draws me, I don’t know.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with the things your father did to you?”
My face heats, I evert my gaze. “Yes, that’s definitely part of the attraction. Am I compelled to do it because it was done to me? I think so, to some degree. He taught me…” I pause. “I learned to enjoy it—even though I’m not gay.”
“Yes, you explained this to me before and I completely understand. A penis is a carnal, mindless thing.”
I laugh. “Yes it is. The church went on and on about the evils of homosexuality, so that plays a part. For me though, giving anal sex would be kind of like going full circle. Maybe it will be similar to what you realized about the meaning of pain. Pain is just pain.”
Renata nods, following my train of thought.
I raise my eyebrows. “I lust after your ass. Badly. Maybe I’ll realize that fucking you there… is just that. Anal sex is simply anal sex. Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely,” she agrees. “It will not only be gloriously fun, erotic and exciting, but you’ll take charge of the fantasy. Self-acceptance, hon. Always good to let go of needless shame.”
“I hope so,” I say.
Then she gives me a sly, teasing smile. “Want to know what I think?”
I shake my head ruefully, theatrically wincing. “You terrify me, woman, but go ahead, I can take it. Tell me what you think.”
“First time anal sex?” Her skin flushes, she shifts on her chair, and licks her lips—her usual signs of arousal. “I think it will be li
fe changing… for both of us.”
Filled with love for her, excited, petrified, nervous, ashamed and aroused all at once, I smile faintly. I guess I’m finally going to act out my most compelling and forbidden sexual fantasy.
At least that’s what I think is about to happen.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Chapter 56.
“The cultural ban on having sex with your friends is an inevitable offshoot of a societal belief that the only acceptable reason to have sex is to lead to a monogamous marriage-like relationship.”
― Dossie Easton
~~~
Grant Wilkinson
“OK… so,” Renata says.
Our eyes meet in a scorching blaze of sensual heat.
Her slow smile makes my pulse race. “Unless you have more questions, or anything else to say, I’m going upstairs to take a shower. Wait here and come up in about fifteen minutes. How does that sound?”
I shift in my chair, trying to ease the pressure on my erection. My breathing and heart rate jump skyward, my muscles tense, while my cock budges in my jeans. I open my mouth to speak, but first I need to swallow.
“Like a dream come true,” I say, openly raking her body with my gaze.
She smirks. “Like a fantasy come true, you mean.”
I nod solemnly. “The mother of all fantasies.”
Laughing, Renata strides toward the stairs with carefree, springy steps. As usual, my eye is drawn to her fabulous ass. Head up, shoulders back, and hips swinging—she’s so damn sexy I want to jump her before she leaves the room. She’s every man’s wet dream.
My heart swells because she’s mine.
A thought strikes me. “Hey, just one more thing,” I say. “How do you know what André’s sexual preferences are?”
Freezing in her tracks, she turns to face me with a frown, then glides back and sits down next to me. “How do you think I know?”
Baffled by her open-minded ways, I shake my head. “The way you and André talk so easily about such personal subjects, I guess I can imagine you two discussing anal sex over lunch. I don’t know how you do it. Does anything sexual ever disturb you?”