Actually, I don’t give a shit about the library, but there is no way I’ll stay locked up in my room. I refuse to be sequestered without flinching.
“I give you two hours a week, and I want the results to attest for it.” She screams without turning back.
It’s stupid but I almost feel like I have won. Two hours a week to see Sandre.
I know it’s stupid! I’m playing with fire, but my crotch doesn’t feel this way about it. It asks for more like an already addicted junky and doesn’t care about the problems facing it.
I walk slowly until I lose sight of her. And when I’m finally sure she can’t see me, I start running like an idiot. Her house is only a block away and in less time than it takes to say it I’m in front of it. I jump over the gate as she always does, and freeze on the spot when I realize her parents might be here. I can’t meet them, not today, not now that my mother knows about everything. I take a step back and take out my cell phone to send her a message.
Sandre appears on the doorstep only a few minutes later. She’s wearing nothing but a large beige shirt, so thin that it’s almost see through.
“You find me funny?” I ask as she walks to me with an incredible smile on.
My breathing stops its crazy race when I spot her perfect breasts under the fabric and her dark panties. “Do you always walk around in this outfit on Sundays?” I add, putting my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t touch her.
“You look like a kid about to be bad.” She says, ignoring my remark.
“My mother knows about us and she plans to warn your parents.” I blurt out, praying for her not to freak out.
Her beautiful dark eyes stare at me, astounded, and my heart brakes when I realize our story ends here. I’m trying to reassure it, telling it that it’s probably better this way, when a tinkling laugh brings me back to reality. Seriously? She finds it funny?
“Do you really think she scares me?” She asks amused.
Seriously? She doesn’t fear my mother’s anger? I try to imagine her parents. How would they react if they knew that their idiotic neighbor comes to fuck their daughter when they’re away? No, no parent would accept that without getting into a violent rage? And then I remember what she’s said the other night, when she thought I was too drunk to remember any of it.
“So it’s rather cool a sexologist mother?”
She freezes for a moment, as if this fact had something terrifying and again, her smile lights up.
“Wish you knew! I know more about what’s between your legs than you would dare imagine.” She teases me.
I loudly swallow, when the visions of all the things she hasn’t yet done to me impose on me. I wonder if she’s as much experience as she pretends to. And, a strange feeling invades me, as if I could be mad at her for not waiting for me. I’m such an idiot, but it makes me want her even more.
“Which means you aren’t afraid of going on?” I take a chance, praying for her to accept.
“Do I look scared of anything?”
“Well! My mother is a lawyer, so if she wants to see you finish your studies in a boarding school, she’ll have her way.”
I instantly regret what dared to come out of my mouth and my crotch curls up imagining what’s going to follow. Yet, I know exactly why I said that. I want her to stop this, to do it for us, because I can’t.
I’m an idiot, because I freak when I see her terrified look. I wait for her to dump me, she will do it, I know it. And a kinky smile appears again on her lips. She gets closer with an incredible defying expression.
“And so you came all the way up here to tell me that.” She murmurs against my ear.
I feel my breathing speed up. I could almost shiver when she grabs my wrists to get my hands out of my pockets and slides them under her shirt. I can’t help but press her against me and run my fingers along her spine. I enjoy the softness of her skin and lean on her neck to lick it. I stop in my momentum when I spot the house teasing me. And what if her parents saw us?
“I got busted by my mother, I’m not sure I want to know your parents’ reaction as well.” I say, sending my hands back to my pants.
I step back unwillingly as she doesn’t answer. If only she knew how much I want her. I jump over the gate, and before disappearing I add:
“I’m grounded, but I have two hours a week to work on my presentation at the library.”
“And…the library has moved recently?” She says wryly while watching me leave.
When I get to the Donnell’s, they’re all on the terrace next to the swimming pool shining in sunlight, hurtfully reminding me of my lack of sleep. I ran like an idiot so my mother doesn’t have doubts, and yet, she’s glaring at me. My father, he doesn’t notice anything; he’s too busy joking around with Philip. I smile at him and he gives me a friendly pat on the shoulder; Philip loves me, because I’m the son he couldn’t have when he most needed it. My father’s childhood friend has gotten pregnant a married woman who chose to ignore his paternity.
I wonder if he knows his child. Certainly, even though he never talks about it. He’s doing much better since he met Elise and William. The Donnells are the kind of family that looks perfect at first sight, when you know nothing about the secrets eating them up.
I disregard my mother’s glare and eye William, praying she would forget about me. I concentrate on his thin and too round glasses, his impeccably disciplined hair and his first of his class look (which he really is), when a word, a single word, brings me out of my thoughts.
“Wh…what?” I mumble.
“I was wondering if you shared some classes with Sandre River.” Philip repeats.
Oh my God, shit…fuck! Why this question? Has he seen us? Does he suspect something? Has my mother talked about it? Oh Please! I’m a dead man.
“I have to work on a presentation with her.” I specify trying not to show the panic invading me.
“You have a partner?” My mother asks surprised.
I think that if we had been alone, I would already be a eunuch. I have trouble looking her straight in the eyes given her cold irises. She got it! I need to fix this. Say something Josh!
“I would have preferred it if the teacher had chosen somebody else. That girls is really kind of a…(turn on) freak.” I say, praying to be convincing enough.
19 — Sandre
I still can’t believe Josh wants to go on. It’s kind of surreal. How can he be this addicted?
At school I’m a stranger, but sometimes I can feel his beautiful blue eyes on me and he turns away, embarrassed, when our eyes meet. I wonder if he’s imagining me naked or doing stuff for him. I don’t care if it’s not really orthodox as long as he’s thinking about me. I’m even sure he spends more time thinking about me than about Marcy.
I’m so disturbed after his visit that I have trouble concentrating on the pictures I just developed. Yet, Marcy teases me proudly on the pictures from the game. She’s gorgeous, and Josh is gazing at her. A close up of her seems to be telling me He will never be yours.
“But his balls are.” I protest while her smile is still messing with me.
I get Marcy still defying me out of my sight.
“Fucking tight assed klutz!”
Josh appears on the following ones. I scrutinize his expressive features. Eyes dark and shiny, crazy about her, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. I have a little heartache when I think that he will never look at me this way. How do guys manage to separate their dicks from their hearts this well?
On Tuesday, as promised, I go straight home. Josh told his mother he’s studying at the library. He’s committed to make efforts to get his grades up. If she knew about my studying methods I think it would give her a heart attack.
He’s already here, in front of my house, as usually irresistible with his Winsted football team jacket and his jeans falling to his hips. It still feels strange to see him in my world. I don’t know if I’ll get used to it someday.
I don’t say a word and neither d
oes he. We look at each other, not daring to break the silence. It’s weird but it doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. I enjoy his scrutinizing look as if he could like me, as if I was really to his liking. He’s horny, that’s all!
I’m about to walk to the kitchen to get us glasses when he grabs my arm and pulls me to his toned chest. I smell his musky scent that I feel like I haven’t smelled forever. It has only been three days, and I already look forward to having it all over my pillow again. Slowly, he lifts up my head to stare into my dark irises, as if he really wanted to know my feelings.
“I’ve missed you so much.” He tells me kissing me savagely.
His lips, his tongue, his entire mouth taste me as if his life depended on it. I can’t help thinking about the way he kissed Marcy after the game he had just won and how she acted like a hysterical groupie. What’s different about this one?
And suddenly I know, his movements are more savage, more primal, he doesn’t love me; he wants me. It’s his body talking and not his heart. In some way, he belongs to me. I know he’ll never be entirely mine, but Marcy’s neither. She’ll never be able to possess his body. She and he will never have the same desires.
I try to put a stop to my flow of thoughts. I know what my mind is trying to do. It wants to reassure me, convince me that I’m right to continue this insane story, but the truth is I want him, that’s all.
When he finally pulls away, we are both panting. His eyes turned dark blue and he burns from desire. He’s about to take my shirt off, but I stop him by forcing him to get away from me with a quick and maybe too brutal gesture.
“If I remember right, you’re supposed to be studying?” I ask him, a tat teasing.
“You are not gonna do this to me?” He replies smiling back at me.
“Oh I so am!” I insist, taking him by the hand to lead him to my room.
I climb the stairs two by two and he follows me without discussion. Once in the confined space, I push him to the bed to force him to sit.
“What were you supposed to study?”
He hesitates a moment before answering, defeated: “History.”
We don’t have the same teacher but the program is the same, except for a few details. I think and decide about a subject for my questioning. He hasn’t moved, he observes me a tat amused, a tat impatient. He’s so handsome it hurts. I want to forget he’s mine only for an hour.
“How long did the Vietnam war last?” I start, trying to stay as serious as possible.
A kinky grimace appears on his harmonious face and I know he will not cooperate that easily. Slowly, he stands up. He dominates me by a large head and his beautiful eyes defy me amused.
“Why did your parents call you Sandre?”
“Wrong answer. 21 years.” I go on ignoring him, fixing my shirt and starting to unbutton it.
He suddenly seems to understand and bites his lip as if he was thinking. I too would like to bite it, fuck!
“We take turns at questions, seems more fair.” He specifies, repositioning his sweatshirt as if he had just put it on.
I try not to laugh. He really thinks I’ll let him even this game that easily? No way, I have all the power here.
“I don’t see the point.” I say coldly, still smiling provocatively.
“I want to know you better.” He whispers shyly as if his words were somehow shocking.
I can’t believe this. He has a way of surprising me. “You want to know who you’re screwing?”
I said it! Why did it have to come out? Why couldn’t I settle for thinking it? He wants information about me, he wants to be able to strike back if this little agreement of ours turns bad? I dread his answer. I would rather he stayed quiet, but he adds:
“That’s one way to put it!”
Of course that’s the reason, what other reason could it be? He’s not interested in me, I’m no one. He’s never cheated on Marcy. I take a deep breath. I refuse to let him see how disappointed I am. I need to bounce back. We are having fun and I’m the one in control.
“So ask about my favorite color.” I go on, trying to figure out how to get in charge again.
“That’s much less interesting.”
As we were talking he got closer. He’s only a few inches away and I feel his fast and warm breath on my skin. I know he thinks he’s got the upper hand and I want to let him believe that a little longer. I take off his sweatshirt and start unbuttoning his jeans. He grabs my shirt and tears the buttons I just fixed. I stop him as he starts to slide it down my arms.
“No. you first.” I whisper mischievously.
I know he’s doubting , but he nods hesitatingly.
“Lie down.” I order him, delicately pushing him.
He obeys and I take off his jeans and boxers. He’s naked and the show is delicious. That asshole is so hot! “Don’t move I’ll be right back.” I say, still authoritarian.
I run to the bathroom, take off the coal around my eyes and the band in my hair. I make a stop in the walk in closet and take out three scarves and when I get back to the room he hasn’t moved, obedient. He looks happy to see me, the real me, without my artifacts.
Without asking for his opinion, I lift up his hand and tie his wrist to the bed frame. He lets me, yet apprehension suddenly distorts his beautiful face.
“You aren’t gonna play a dirty trick on me, are you?” He asks me, swallowing noisily.
I freeze a little baffled. I thought he trusted me after all we’ve been through. The hurt is so sharp that a knife in the heart wouldn’t have been worse. That’s why he wants to know me better, he wants to make sure I won’t betray him. And deep inside, I can’t hold a grudge given my reputation. I hide my pain behind a smile. I can’t let this get to me.
“If you don’t like it, next time, you’ll do whatever you want with me.”
At these words, a salacious glow lights up his gorgeous azure eyes. I tie down his other hand and blindfold him with the last scarf.
“I’d rather watch you.” He takes a try, already beat.
I don’t like seeing him this way, I like the fighter, the player, but I can’t back out now.
I scrutinize his square jaw, his full lips; I lightly touch them with the tips of my fingers, enjoying the contact. I want him to trust me, to know that I have no intention of betraying him. I lean over him and chastely kiss him on the cheek before whispering to his ear:
“Josh, all I did, I only did it to protect myself. You have never hurt me, and things are very clear between us. You don’t have to fear me.”
He smiles, but I couldn’t tell if it’s a reassured smile or a satisfied or maybe a worried one.
I stand up and start to undress.
“I’m taking off my shirt.” I specify to awaken his curiosity.
And I see him relax slowly, but the respite is only short, he tenses up again when I ask:
“What is the regime in North Vietnam at the beginning of the war?”
“Sandre!” He protests panicking.
His complain breaks my heart, but I refuse to give in, He has to learn to trust me if he wants us to go on.
“I’m almost naked.” I comment, hoping to reassure him.
His breath is spasmodic, he doesn’t say a word, but I know he apprehends. I take my panties off and stay motionless for a moment to admire him. His shoulders are broad, his abs perfectly drawn and the triangle leading to his crotch incredibly calls out to me.
“I’m going to put my hand on your foot.” I specify, softly caressing his ankle and running my fingers up his thigh. My touch makes him shiver and I know he likes it.
My body has followed my arm on its path and I’m straddling him. His chest lifts up with an anarchic noise. I lean in to touch him.
“You feel it? I’m naked too.”
“I’d rather be able to touch you.” He says regaining some kind of self confidence.
“But today you’ll have to settle for enjoying.” I answer, running my mouth on the top of his neck. “So? The answe
r?” I insist slowly coming down to his fit chest.
“Um…um…communist.” He tries totally disoriented. “Good.” I whisper, continuing my slow exploration of his soft skin. “And the name of its founder?” I continue as my fingers wander off between his legs.
He breaths loudly and deep inside I pray it’s not fear anymore causing his palpitations.
“It’s um…Ngô Dinh something.” He whispers between two pants.
“Wrong! Ngô Dinh Diêm is of the nationalists in the south, of the communists It’s Hô Chin Minh.” I explain as my mouth gets to the base of his tool. “And how did the war start?”
He growls as his body tenses up from desire under my touch. My hands slide over the beast standing up for me, and my lips set to join them.
“A…a civil…war…to…to…reunify…the country.” He mumbles, completely at my mercy.
“What did the United States expect by getting involved in this war?” I ask in a low voice as my tongue starts a slow back and forth that makes him moan from pleasure.
“Good God!” He groans between clenched teeth. “Mm, mm.” I protest deepening my caresses.
“I’m…trying…to think.” He pants swaying under me. I thought crosses my mind and I stop immediately, realizing what’s coming.
“If you explode in my mouth, I’ll spit it all out at your face!” I warn him, still horrified by the image that came to my mind.
“Then stop.” He screams suffocating.
His scream comes from deep within. It seems hurtful as if I was afflicting him the worst kind of torture. I freeze before mumbling hesitantly:
“You…you don’t want me to…to… touch you anymore?”
He takes a deep noisy breath as if he was trying to come back to his senses. I watch his slightly shaking lips. I don’t want to hurt him. I’m about to take of his restrains when he finally answers:
“It’s just unsettling, but…I like it.”
A discreet smile appears on his full lips and I melt. My hands find his well toned chest and I gently lean onto him.
Sinder 1: Experimentation Page 12