by Ray Gordon
I slipped my hand beneath the quilt, between the hotness of my firm thighs. The soft lips of my vagina were pouting with neglect. I was pouting in my displeasure. My being left unloved, unfulfilled, was my mother's fault. Why had she come home early and destroyed my lesbian loving? I couldn't blame her. So who could I blame? In my anger, I needed to rebuke someone. Sharon? No. She had given me her body in the name of love and would have taken mine. David? My thoughts told me that it was David's fault.
Lifting the bedside phone, I dialled his number. My anger welled from deep within as my frustration grew. David had been cruel, called Sharon a slut. She was beautiful, sexual, sensual. I should have put David behind me, left him in the swirling dust of my past. I'd made the break once, torn free from his suppressive nature. I should never have gone back to him.
David answered his mobile. I could hear the car engine, the traffic. He was on his way to work. The boring office which constituted his boring life. Was he sulking? More than likely. He didn't like being late, he didn't like the rain, he didn't like me ringing him when he was busy or otherwise engaged, he didn't like... David didn't like anything. In truth, he didn't like himself.
"Come round," I ordered him. I sounded severe.
"What, now?" he asked irritably. He was always irritable in the mornings. He was irritable in the evenings.
"Yes, now," I said firmly.
"Kirsty, I'm on my way to..."
"I know where you're going, David," I snapped. I felt that I had to punish him. "If you want to talk about the future, marriage and the patter of tiny feet, then you'll come round now."
Feeling smug, I hung up. The tables had turned, the worm had turned. I knew that my mother was going out at nine. A dental appointment. She'd be an hour or more, giving me time to punish David for being David. As I lay waiting in my bed, I became incensed. I knew that it was wrong to allow myself to become enraged. Anger, hatred, bitterness... They gnaw at the soul like starving rats gnawing a lump of decaying flesh. But I couldn't help but offer myself to the rats. David had become the bane of my life. He'd always reproached me as if I were a naughty child. He didn't want me to go on holiday. He became resentful if I enjoyed myself. He didn't like me meeting people, having fun. A wave of vengeance gripped me.
The doorbell rang as if announcing the commencement of round one. The door opened and closed. Muffled voices emanated from the hall, my mother and David. Footsteps bounded up the stairs with urgency. David was going to complain, moan and sulk. He was depressive, repressive. I had to tell him once and for all, put an end to our farcical relationship. My bedroom door opened and he marched into the room as if he was walking into a sales meeting. His face unsmiling, he stood at the end of the bed and checked his watch.
"Kirsty," he said, his dark eyes locked to mine. "I'm going to be late for work."
"I need to talk to you," I returned. My mother called out. She was leaving. "We have to talk about the future."
"Now?" His face grimaced as if he was in pain. His nose always seemed too big for his face when he grimaced. "Couldn't it wait until...?"
"I'm like time, David." There was nothing I loved more than interrupting him. "I wait for no one."
"What the hell are you talking about? Look, I have to go. I'll see you this evening."
"This is the evening," I smiled.
"What?"
"This is the evening of..."
"Are you ill?"
"No, I'm not ill. In fact, I've never felt better. I don't want to have to fit in with your routine, David. You make me feel as if I'm a coffee break to be fitted in between meetings. We talk now. Or never."
"All right, all right," he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.
I felt hatred welling within my heart. The rats were gnawing at me. As I watched him brush his dark hair away from his frowning eyes, I felt my stomach knotting as my resentment built. I should have said nothing more than goodbye, but my heart wanted revenge. Punish him? Apart from telling him that we were finished, I had no idea how to punish him. As he gazed at my breasts, the brown protrusions of my erect nipples peeping at him over the billowing quilt, I knew how to punish him.
David didn't like women swearing, he didn't like tarts, he didn't like promiscuity. In his boorish way, he liked things to be prim and proper. David had always believed that men gave women orgasms. Orgasms were a gift to women from mankind. He thought that I should be somehow grateful for his attentiveness, for his making love to me. In the early days when naivety had ruled me, I'd thought that he'd brought me pleasure. The fact was that I'd brought him pleasure.
"Stand next to the bed," I smiled. I wanted to shock him. "I want to suck your cock."
"What's happened to you?" he asked. I hated his pained expression. "Kirsty, you've never done that before."
"You're right; I've never sucked your cock. There's a first time for everything."
"But..."
"I want to suck your knob. I want your knob in my mouth." My crudity excited me.
"You've never talked like this before. Our love making has always been..."
"Boring, David. Our lovemaking has always been boring. Let's spice it up a little, shall we?"
"I'm all for that, but not now." He checked his watch again. "I have to go to work."
I grinned and licked my lips provocatively. "I want you to fuck my mouth," I said huskily.
"Kirsty!"
"I want your stiff cock fucking my mouth."
Pushing the quilt down, I parted my thighs. My vaginal crack bared, opening in my soaring arousal, I ran my fingertip up and down the length of my wet girl-slit. David stared open-mouthed as I slipped my finger between my glistening inner lips and drove it deep into my tightening pussy. Gasping, writhing as I fingered myself, I massaged the sensitive nub of my solid clitoris with my free hand. He stood and walked to the side of the bed, his eyes reflecting utter bewilderment as I blatantly masturbated before him. My juices squelched invitingly. I was thirsty.
"You've never been like this before," he murmured disbelievingly as my pussy-wet finger repeatedly drove deep into my tightening love sheath.
"I've never felt like this before," I breathed. "I want you to fuck my mouth as you would my pussy."
"What the hell's come over you?" he gasped. "Look, I have to go. We'll talk tonight. Talk about... about the future."
Slipping my sex-wet finger out of my hungry pussy, I unzipped his trousers and pulled his erect penis out. "Don't you want me to suck your cock and drink your sperm?" I asked him. I was a tart.
"Well, I... This is ridiculous. You're supposed to be at work, for God's sake."
"I want your spunk in my mouth, David. I want you to fuck my wet mouth."
He shook his head. "I don't know what's changed you, Kirsty," he sighed. "I don't like you this way." His eyes locked to mine, he paused. "Have you met someone else?" he finally asked. Gripping the base of his solid penis, I answered only with a salacious grin. "You have found someone else, haven't you?"
"Yes," I have," I confessed. "I've found myself, David."
Pulling his foreskin back, I exposed the purple plum of his knob. He looked down as I pushed my tongue out and moved closer. I heard his heavy breathing in the silence of the room. The tip of my tongue caressed his swollen glans, played around his sperm slit. Warm, salty. I felt a flutter of arousal ripple through my contracting womb. I was in control now. No longer was he using me, I was using him. He moved forward, his knob urgently seeking the wet heat of my mouth. I moved my head back, allowing him only the pleasure of my tongue. He began his gasping, his penis swelling and twitching within my hand. He was about to receive his punishment.
"Do you like fucking my cunt?" I asked. The expletives careered around my mind, hurting me.
"Kirsty! What the hell..."
"Don't you like the word?" I looked up at him as I squeezed the solid shaft of his penis. "Cunt. I like the word, cunt."
"Well, I don't," he snapped.
"Fuck my mouth, David
. Think of my mouth as my cunt and fuck it hard."
Whatever his thoughts, however disgusted he was with me, he eagerly pushed the purple head of his penis deep into my wet mouth. Closing my eyes, I sucked gently. My stomach somersaulted, my womb quivered. Delighting in the experience, I ran my tongue over the velveteen surface of his bulbous glans as he let out a long low moan of male pleasure. Sinking my teeth gently into the veined shaft of his rigid cock, I snaked my tongue over his purple knob, teasing him, tantalising him.
His orgasm would soon come. His penis would swell, his purple plum would balloon and throb. He'd gasp, clutch my head in his sexual ecstasy as he passed the point of no return. He'd watch my wet lips rolling back and forth along his veined shaft, over the rim of his swollen glans. His sperm would jet from his slit, gush in his orgasm. And, with split-second timing, I'd punish him.
"God," he breathed, rocking his hips and fucking my wet mouth. His silky glans gliding over my snaking tongue, his shaft like granite, his body became rigid. Breathing heavily, he took my head in his hands, repeatedly thrusting his swollen knob in and out of my wet mouth as his orgasm neared. "Coming," he finally gasped. I tasted the salt of his sperm as the first globule of orgasmic liquid issued from his slit. He shook in his ecstasy, gripping my head as he was about to fill my thirsty mouth with his seed. His orgasm exploded, his sperm coursing along his shaft towards his slit.
Pulling away, I sat on the bed and watched his sperm shoot from his knob-slit in long, pearly strands. His glazed eyes staring at me as threads of sperm jetted from his glans, splattering the melons of my breasts, he grabbed his penis. Working his foreskin back and forth over his swollen knob, he grimaced in his coming. Gasping, his head hung, his legs sagging, he brought out his sperm as I watched him masturbate with glee in my heart. I'd never had my mouth fucked. I wanted to suck his throbbing knob, fill my cheeks with his flowing sperm. But my satisfaction was his dissatisfaction.
"Kirsty," he gasped as the last drops of sperm dribbled from his knob and landed on my leg in milky pools. "Why did you...?"
"I wanted to watch you wanking," I grinned. "I've never seen a man wank before."
"I wish you'd stop using dreadful words like that. Anyway, I had no choice," he complained, tucking his saliva-wet penis into his trousers and pulling his zip up. "That wasn't very nice of you."
A wave of excitement rolled through me as I came up with an idea to shock him. "David," I murmured.
"What?"
"Will you lick me?"
"Not now, Kirsty." He spoke to me as he would a demanding child. "I must get to work."
"I'll tell you what I've always wanted you to do."
"What's that?"
"I'd love to feel your tongue licking my bottom-hole."
He frowned and shook his head. "Where have you got all these ideas from?" he asked accusingly. Perhaps he thought that I'd been reading dirty magazines. In truth, the ideas had risen from the secret depths of my girl-mind. "Something's changed you, Kirsty. Never have I heard you use expletives or suggest..."
"I want to live, David. I want to experiment with sex, discover the many pleasures kinky sex has to offer."
"Kinky sex?" He sat on the edge of the bed. "OK, let's talk about this," he sighed. "What's happened to make you like this?"
"I..."
"What is it you want?"
"What is it I want?" I echoed.
"Getting me round here this morning, using terrible words and suggesting... suggesting that we do things I thought you knew nothing about. And then there's this ridiculous holiday idea."
"What's ridiculous about staying with my uncle for a couple of weeks?"
"It's not just staying with your uncle, Kirsty. It's going off to some Greek island with Sharon without even asking me."
"I'm sorry. Am I missing the point here?"
"Yes, I think you are."
"Forgive me but, I thought this was my life. I thought that, at eighteen-years-old, I'd be able to have some fun. Of course... You don't have any fun, do you?"
"I enjoy my work, the theatre, meals out and..."
"But that's it, David. There's no spontaneity, no laughs, no real fun. It's your work, the theatre and meals out. Oh, and fucking me when you feel the need."
"We're working towards our home, our marriage. People who waste their time and money when they're young by having fun, as you put it... Don't you see? They never get anywhere in life. I know a chap who's the same age as me. He spends his evenings sitting in bars or clubbing. He has no savings and drives a clapped-out Mini. I have savings and drive a BMW. OK, it's not new but..."
"I'd rather drive a Mini."
"Now you're being silly."
"Am I? If the choice was between a driving Mini and a having a good time, or a BMW and a boring life, I know which I'd go for."
"You don't understand, Kirsty."
"David, I don't want to understand. There'll come a time when I have to worry about a mortgage, bills, breast feeding, nappies, sleepless nights... But I don't want that yet."
"What do you want, Kirsty?" He checked his watch again. "I really must be going. I'll see you this evening, OK?"
"Ring me."
"I will."
As he left the room, I lay on my pillow and gazed at the sperm glistening on my breasts. Trailing the opaque liquid around my erect nipples with my fingertips, I pondered on the holiday. I'd not make any decisions about David until I returned from Greece. The holiday would do me good, give me time to think. David, Sharon, the future... I needed to time to think. I felt that I was discovering myself, at last. Although confused about my sexual identity, I felt the real me was surfacing. I was a butterfly emerging from its pupa. I was still learning. I knew I'd learn about myself, discover what was hiding in my head.
Massaging David's sperm into my erect nipples, I was about to suck them when the phone rang. Sitting up and lifting the receiver, I instinctively knew it was Sharon. She seemed quiet, hesitant. Was guilt tormenting her? She wanted to say something but couldn't bring herself to turn her thoughts into speech. I detected anxiety and asked her what the trouble was.
"I think you know," she replied sullenly.
"Yes, I believe I do. Was it all right for you?" The question sounded silly.
"It was... Yes, it was good." She hesitated. I could hear her breathing, thinking. "But it was wrong, Kirsty."
"Who says so?"
"I... Everyone says so. I don't mean I've asked people. I mean that it's accepted that what we did was wrong."
"Accepted by society. Sharon, the point is that society doesn't know what we did. No one knows."
"I know," she returned.
"So you have a problem with yourself?"
"Yes, of course I do. What we did was... Don't you have a problem with it?"
"Is what we did illegal?"
"Well... No."
"Was it dangerous? I mean, harmful to our health?"
"No, of course not. I know what you're trying to do, Kirsty."
"What am I trying to do?"
"You're trying to make it sound OK."
"It is OK. Do you masturbate?"
"Well... Yes, sometimes."
"Do you have a problem with that?"
"No."
"But you have a problem when I masturbate you?"
"No. Well, yes. Oh, I don't know. Anyway, I rang your work and they said you hadn't turned up."
"I decided to take the day off. Want to go out somewhere?"
"I suppose so."
"Don't sound too enthusiastic," I giggled. I glanced at the window. "The rain's stopped. I'll meet you in the park. We'll go for a walk and then have coffee somewhere. Say, half an hour?"
"OK. I'll meet you by the pond."
"I'll be there."
Leaping out of bed, I wandered into the bathroom and showered. Would Sharon be jealous if she discovered David had wanked over my nipples? More than likely, I concluded. As the warm water cascaded over my naked body, I pondered on jealousy. W
hat was jealousy? Envy, resentment. An emotion felt when someone has something you don't have. Why would Sharon be jealous? She wouldn't want David masturbating and shooting his sperm over her breasts. If she found herself gripped by jealousy, then it would be because David had committed a sexual act with me.
Leaving the shower and towelling my naked body, I wondered what to wear. I glanced out of my bedroom window. The rain clouds had gone. David had gone, the sun was shining. I slipped into a thin cotton dress. Summery turquoise, short, revealing. Buttons of pearl ran down the front like drops of spilled sperm. I wore no bra or panties. A sense of freedom welled between my thighs as I moved about. My nipples rose against the loose material of my dress. I felt alive.
Despite the grass being wet, the park was busy with people dressed in their summer clothes. Short skirts, loose blouses, tight T-shirts... Wondering what Sharon would wear, I ambled towards the pond. Perhaps she'd decided on a miniskirt. Naked legs, shapely thighs emerging invitingly below the hem of her skirt... Would she wear panties? A slight breeze wafted up my dress, cooling the soft lips of my vagina. Again, a sense of freedom enveloped me. Greece beckoned.
Sitting on a bench by the pond, I gazed at a girl feeding the ducks. I wanted to watch Sharon masturbate, watch her fingering her pussy as she massaged her clitoris to orgasm. I'd witnessed David wanking; to further my sex education I wanted to watch Sharon too.
"Kirsty!" she called, running towards me. I smiled and waved. She wore a miniskirt, her long legs naked. I pictured the lips of her pussy free of the constricting material of panties, her wet sex valley unveiled. She joined me on the bench, her diamond-blue eyes sparkling as she crossed her legs. I wanted to caress the swell of her love lips, slip my finger deep into the hot sheath of her honeypot.
"Lashing with rain one minute and brilliant sunshine the next," she said, her voice summery. "I've been looking on teletext for flights to Athens. One company are going to ring me back this afternoon. They reckon I'll get a flight."