Sinder 1: Experimentation

by Jane Devreaux

  “I shall go on then.” I whisper in his neck.

  He nods and I grab a little colored pack. I observe the thing a moment, last time I did a pretty good job but I’m a beginner. I’m happy he doesn’t see me do this. I feel ridiculous as my fingers slide down his ready for action dick.

  My hands climb up his hips as my lips explore his perfectly drawn pecs.

  “I’m still waiting for an answer.” I whisper between two kisses.

  “Um…um…It’s something about anti-communism.” He articulates between two too noisy breaths.

  “It’s something like this yes. You’ve deserved a small reward.” I say, slowly inserting him in me.

  A groan escapes his throat and his body sways, trying to free itself. I slowly and delicately rock my hips on him, pursuing my questioning.

  “And the origin of the conflict?” I ask, trying to calm my racing pulse.

  It feels so good to be in charge of the dance. “Um…um…I don’t know. I don’t care. Go faster.” He pleads his heart racing violently against mine.

  “You have to answer or I stop.” I order him while amplifying the movement.

  “Oh God, Sandre.” He pleads, brutally pulling on the strings.

  I yield to his pleading, and clarify for him:

  “The Indo…china…postwar…era.” I gasp, feeling desire expand from my stomach.

  I would like to continue the interrogation, but I’m unable to think, I only want one thing, him, again and again. He gives a hip thrust and an intense pleasure fills me up and blows me away with him. I collapse onto him, panting, and with an extenuated hand, take off his blindfold and loosen his ties. I want him to hold me and as if to answer my wish, he puts his arms around me and hugs me so tight that my lungs have trouble getting air.

  “That was intense.” He whispers against my ear. “Sorry I doubted you.” He adds in an even lower voice.

  He wants to reassure me. My heart jumps at this thought. Then I feel a kinky smile extend against my cheek and in a fast agile movement his rolls me over to get on top of me.

  20 — Josh

  Wow! That was…wow! There are no words! How could I doubt her? Good God, she knows what she’s doing! With her, I could spend hours studying; I could even be good at it. I want more.

  I want to do for her the same she does for me. I want to know her better. Why does she avoid everyone? Why does she hide under too big clothes? I want her, I want her whole. But I know she’s not ready to give it all. I need to take it slow.

  I contemplate her harmonious curves under me. She’s gorgeous, perfect. How can such a common girl turn so beautiful once naked? I think I could spend hours admiring her.

  I caress her breasts and run my mouth on her neck. “My turn to play.” I murmur, tying her wrists to the bed.

  She looks at me, mischievous, without a word. I know she won’t be easy to coax, but I’ll take my chance. And like an echo to my thoughts she adds:

  “You can torture me as much as you want, you won’t be getting anything from me.”

  “We’ll see.” I insist, blindfolding her.

  I kiss her with more passion than I thought to be able to.

  She awakens something in me that I didn’t know was there. A strange commotion agitating in my stomach. She’s changed me. I don’t know if I’m worse or better, I’m just different. A new Josh, more alive and completely lost. But I prefer not to think about it because I feel really good with her.

  I wander between her breasts, enjoying that irresistible taste that belongs to no one but her. I could get lost on her skin, but I don’t want to forget my questioning. “What does your father do?”

  “I have no idea.” She whispers as she arches her back under my caresses.

  “It’s not a hard question though.” I protest, slowly going down to her navel and her lower stomach. “Forget about it.” She insists as I feel her breathing speed up under the weight of my mouth literally devouring her.

  I wish her senses could make her lose control, make her open up at last. I want her. Oh God how I want her! It could almost make me forget about the little game I’m running. I try to think as my hands slide between her legs. She’s talked about her mother several times, but never about her father. Why? Are the shirts she wears his? And then I get it. I stop the sweet torture for a moment to observe her.

  “Is he dead?” I try, almost embarrassed.

  She smiles and I can’t even describe how relieved I feel when she replies:

  “Idiot!”

  Yes, I must be a little stupid, but I want to know.

  “Is he in something illegal?” I insist, slightly touching the wet entrance calling for me.

  “Wrong.” She mocks me, swaying under my fingers. “You refuse to talk about him?” I ask, delicately spreading her legs to see her pussy.

  It’s the first time I see the female anatomy this close and I must admit that I find it confusing. It’s not what I expected at all. In fact I don’t know what I expected. I haven’t even thought about it. I observe her labia, carefully freed of all hairs and where two bumps hide. From what I heard from Steve, the first one is the one to focus on as the second one is there for when you need to go to the bathroom. Steve’s an asshole, but when it comes to sex one can count on his knowledge.

  I’m so absorbed by contemplating her anatomy that I barely heard her answer.

  “I refuse to talk at all!”

  “Yet you told me about your mother.” I reply, brushing my finger against this so sensitive part.

  This simple touch makes her shiver and I exult, continuing:

  “And your camouflage outfit, what’s it for?”

  I run my tongue over that funny little button and I see her bite the corner of her lip to hold back a moan. After a moment of hesitation, I put my lips over it and let my tongue play with that strange little thing.

  “You…you…with…your…football…player…panoply…you show you are…a cool guy…but me…I…I’m not cool…and…I show it.” She mumbles swaying under me.

  The effect this has on her is impressive! She breaths loudly, trying to hold back the moans escaping her mouth, blushed by the excitation. Seeing her like this is worse than having her giving me head. I have a crazy hard-on! I would like to get to the serious stuff, to slide into her right now, but I want to go on with my questioning. She seems ready to talk at last, and I would like to know what makes her hold people at a distance. But I’m in such a state that I have trouble formulating correctly my thoughts.

  “Why?” I mumble, sliding a finger inside her and starting a slow back and forth as my tongue still plays with her little bump.

  “Why what?” She gasps, as if she was about to get into hysterics.

  “Why…do you refuse to be part of the world?” I clarify, stopping my torture to observe her better.

  She sits up and even though I can’t see her eyes, I know she’s glaring at me. She seems frustrated as if I had just stopped at a fatal moment.

  “Fuck! What kind of questions are those?” She says madly, pulling on the ties holding her still.

  Her words are like a plaintive cry escaping from deep within. It breaks my heart. I don’t want to hurt her. I couldn’t stand her suffering because of me. I climb back to her and gently kiss her to reassure her. I don’t know what effect that kiss has on her, but me, I’m instantaneously appeased. I can extinguish the ember I inflamed on my own.

  “Keep calm my beautiful.” I whisper, my face buried in her hair of an incomparable softness. “Please answer me.”

  The words coming out of my mouth sound like an agonizing man’s complaint. I need to know, as if suddenly my life depended on it.

  “I don’t want to suffer anymore.” She whispers with a shaky voice, muffled by emotion.

  Sandre River the rock has just crumbled beneath me. I didn’t want that. I don’t want to hurt her. Crap, what an idiot! I can’t see her eyes but I’m afraid tears might have filled them. It hurts just thinking about it. She’s…sh
e’s important to me. I press my mouth against hers to find the fullness that had filled me earlier again. And as if to reassure me, she sways under me, exciting my crotch which hasn’t had enough.

  I grab a condom still hidden under her bed and without stopping my kiss I slip it on my dick wanting nothing else. Now that I’ve roamed her body, I know exactly where I can find the so narrow, so warm spot my parts beg for. I feel her smile appear on my mouth as I slide into her. She too needed this. Good God, yes!

  I leave her lips to kiss every inch of her beautiful face. And as I speed up my cadence and our hearts beat against each other, I insist as if nothing could harm us anymore:

  “What does Sandre mean?”

  It feels so good! My body begs for her again and again. A huge pleasure fills me up; I feel her limbs shake underneath me and like a release, she whispers on my neck:

  “It’s all there’s left after passion has burned out.”

  I know this mysterious sentence; it’s the one she uses every time with a mischievous smile as if her words hid something horrible. It works on everyone except me, because I’m too stupid to get the subtlety of it. There’s no simpler way to define her weird name. I expected more details. Seriously, what got into her parents to give her such a name?

  I untie her restrains and push her against my chest, enjoying the warmth of her body. She lifts up her head to observe me and I scrutinize her beautiful face in search of any kind of unease. I fear I’ve gone too far, but she doesn’t look disturbed at all anymore. I’m reassured, even though I’m none the wiser.

  I still don’t know anything about her father. Is it because of him that she’s like this today? I suppose she gets it from him that dark look that commands respect. Large tattoo covered arms, an aging biker look, a torturer who has inflicted her the worst tortures. I scrutinize her body in search of the scars revealing the horrors of her past, but there is nothing there. Maybe it is not the ordeal I’m imagining. I observe again her face that still shows nothing. What happened to her? Who hurt her? No matter how hard I try, only her father comes to mind. I know nothing about this man, yet I hate him. How can one hurt the flesh of his flesh, in whichever way? Maybe if she’d had a normal life, we would have had a normal encounter and a normal relationship.

  I stare at the white ceiling trying to get my thoughts together but the red numbers her alarm clock is projecting bring me back to reality.

  “Oh crap, I’m late!” I scream out jumping to my feet. I get dressed quickly. I hate leaving like this when I would want to linger around. I kiss her furtively as I put my cell phone back into my pocket.

  “I’m sorry to be running away like a thief.” I whisper against her mouth, still burning after our lovemaking. I wish I could stay so bad!

  “Just go before you get busted.” She reassures me delicately pushing me.

  I run down the stairs, yelling to make sure she hears me:

  “See you on Friday!” As if we didn’t see each other at school every day.

  But there it’s different, she’s not irresistibly attractive anymore, she’s not mine anymore. She’s a stranger, an asocial that nobody wants to hang around with and neither do I. I’m ashamed, but I prefer to avoid her. I don’t want to hang with that rebel that has no effect on me. I just want the super hot Sandre who answers my craziest fantasies.

  I’m already out of breath when I get to the door of her house, but I have no intention of slowing down. I jump over the fence and take a shortcut through the neighbors’ garden. I’ll be home in no time.

  When I step in, I get the horrible feeling my mother’s waiting for me. I’m thrilled I’ve run. My clothes are a mess, so is my hair, I’ve red cheeks and I pant like an idiot, but my crazy race has the merit of hiding the truth about my doing. She doesn’t say a word when I kiss her, she doesn’t even look upset. Thank God, she doesn’t know!

  I sneak away to my room before being betrayed by a stupid smile. I collapse on my bed enjoying the last moments of euphoria. Later, guilt and Marcy’s ridiculous sermons will come to bother me. It’s crazy how I can completely conceal her when I’m with Sandre, whereas the rebel never leaves my thoughts. I have her under my skin like a strange evil eating me up. Being with her is more a torture than a pleasure, but I can’t stop. She’s the worst of all drugs.

  It’s crazy! I would never have thought this but she’s changed my relationship with Marcy. Of course, I still love her, she’s the woman of my life and nothing will change that. Yet, her absence doesn’t make me suffer anymore, I don’t act like a horny dog when she rubs herself against me and the worst is, I don’t get jealous anymore when an idiot gazes at her. It’s weird to have my heart getting carried away for her when my crotch doesn’t react anymore.

  Crap! I’m lost!

  And to top it all, Marcy appreciates that new me. This morning, she gave me this long-winded, soporific speech about how I’ve evolved lately. She finds me thoughtful, gentle, understanding and respectful. If she knew it’s the guilt eating me up.

  I know I should put an end to it, that I’m crazy, that I’m taking insane chances, but I’m completely addicted. Not to sex, not to Sandre, to some strange thing between those two. A thing that has no name; a thing that overwhelms and unsettles me; a thing that drives me crazy. Yes, completely crazy!

  21 — Sandre

  The relationship between Josh and me has taken the strangest of ways. I’m his fuck buddy, but not only. There’s something between us. Something he cares about and fuels to make sure he doesn’t lose it. I would like to put my finger on it but I can’t. Sometimes, He has this way of looking at me that thrills my heart, as if I could mean something, as if I could be the only one. It seems so sincere, yet I know it’s nothing. I become so useless when we are at school. The spark in his eyes disappears, the emotion only go one way and I panic every time he gets too close to me.

  I think I would turn crazy if the stuck up brat wasn’t there to distract me. She has this way of talking all the time to numb my thoughts, as if she knew I need that. It’s stupid but I’m starting to appreciate her.

  This situation drives me crazy, but I’m unable to put a stop to it. He’ll end up doing it and it will be hell for me. I’ll lose control like a junky in withdrawal. He has an effect on me that completely unsettles me. He’s cracked my shell in less time than it takes to say it. And me, who thought to be immune, to be untouchable. I wanted to play with him and in the end he’s the one playing with me. I hate being caught in my own trap. How could I let him into my life? And how can I want him to stay there?

  It’s impossible, Sandre, wake up!

  And yet, every night I wake up startled, frustrated. I suffocate, soaked from head to toe. And I’m not even talking about my panties. Twice a week is not enough. I want him more. I’m so addicted that I could drag him into one of the school’s many closets. I would do it if didn’t dread his reaction. It hasn’t even been two nights without him and I already shake like a junky in withdrawal.

  A crazy urge to sneak into his room and slip under his sheet twists my lower stomach. Fuck, I’m crazy! I want to get back to the warmth of his body, his soft and wooden scent and his powerful arms that can so well erase all my doubts.

  I sit up, wishing that this ridiculous idea would go away once I’m wide-awake. I open the bay window and take in the fresh air that enters. It’s so warm outside. Crap, I’m losing my mind! My mind goes crazy, maybe he hasn’t closed his window, I could find something to reach it. I hate myself, but I need to check!

  I put on my father’s sweatshirt, a pair of old flip-flops and penetrate the silent night. I shudder when I realize that the air on my bare legs is colder than I imagined. Summer will soon be here, but one must stay realistic. I pull on my sweatshirt as I turn at the corner of the street. Fuck, it’s so calm! It gives me goose bumps. I’m even startled by a cat slipping out of a bush. Come on, what a klutz!

  I check the surroundings before crossing the deserted street. None of the houses is lit, but it c
ould almost make me shudder. If I get caught, they will think I’m a burglar and I’ll be in deep shit. I should go back home, but my desires are sending me the other way.

  I walk around the Anderson’s incredibly peaceful house; I’m stunned when I discover the garden glorified by the almost full moon. It’s of an astounding beauty. Unknown flowers and plants, all around, dissimulating places suitable for relaxing. I wonder which one of his folks has a green thumb. I have trouble imagining the control freak lawyer as a Sunday botanist. And this splendid field has almost engulfed the house. I feel like I could get lost in it. If I didn’t already know there was a house behind all this, I wouldn’t have guessed it.

  I approach slowly, checking where I put each of my steps. I don’t want to make any noise. My heart stops when I see Josh’s window, half-open. I should turn around!

  And yet, I walk closer to some kind of ivy covering the walls up to the roof. I try a few branches before putting a foot on it. After a moment of hesitation, I leave my flip-flops on the ground and begin my ascent. I progress slowly, controlling each of my holds. I’m surprised by myself as I reach the window. It was almost too easy. I step over the ledge and freeze on the spot.

  He’s here!

  I can barely make him out in the dark, but he’s here. His regular and deep breathing fills the room. I slowly walk closer. I spot his bare chest lifting in rhythm with his breathing. A delicious shiver goes through me. I’m glad I came! The show is to die for.

  I could be reasonable and settle for admiring him, but I’m not reasonable. I want to touch him, caress him, feel his naked skin on mine. I’m determined when a growl escapes his mouth and his hand gets under the sheet. I jump back when I think I’ve woken him up, but his breathing is still the same deep and regular.