FLAWED
Letting both our bodies free of our clothing, Julian and I began to trace the curves and ruggedness of each other's familiar flesh. With defined moans and whimpers, we brought each other to the carpeted floor and shared our saliva, shared our sweat, and a primal heat long kept under surveillance. It was a delicate ritual of bondage for both of us: he, the loving and trusting stag: prancing and grazing the fields like Apollo with his lighted shaft. And I, the malevolent death's-head moth: whose appearance awed, and whose dust murdered the unwary.
And then, and then...
"Lance, we haven't gone so far as to...as to..."
"You know I'm ready for what you have. Don't worry, I've been saving this for you for quite some time."
"But, you said you weren't a virgin anymore."
"No, silly, I'm not," I giggled, and then took his left nipple in my hand. "I mean, I've kept myself clean for you, and have not touched anyone prior to our relationship...you have my body, and whatever is within or without it's confines."
His eyes brightened and a joyful smile filled his lips. Ah, how beautiful he is; I will never tire of it! It was the unfurling of many curtains on a lighted stage; the orchestra, empty, only enlivened the two performers on the bare arena of human behavior.
"Julian?"
"Yes, my love?"
"I feel your spirit knows something...and it doesn't want you to tell me."
"Hush, you graceful, unstable madman! Don't say anything else...just relish the moment; let it linger. Why is it that you always seem to be thinking of the impossibly deep things; why can't you take me with you?"
"Because your lungs would burst. Let's get dressed, someone might be looking for us outside."
"Just keep it in for a while longer...ugh, oh, angels in heaven! It's pulsating inside me. Keep it there, for a while longer, please."
"Yes. For a little while longer."
Contrary to what we expected, the theatre had purposely been left empty after the performance, and everyone had made it a point to just leave a few lights on for us to find our way. Everyone had assumed we were celebrating our victory, and I suppose they were right! We felt like delinquents sneaking into an adult section of a bookstore and stealing Oui or EuroBoy for the first time, even though we were by ourselves. Outside was chilly and quiet, and we hurried home at last to continue our physical and verbal conversations until we were both exhausted.
The jeep sputtered to a halt near the destination, an old, and rarely used gym in the old quarters that were now slums. The details are typical to any abandoned building, so I spare you them. My footsteps made dampened echoes as I dragged Irma to the center of the court, where the dimness was fuller. I had the foresight to bring a small electric lantern with me, so she could see my movements as her hour came closer to its end. I placed the torch behind her, to ease her eyes from its glare, and to make an eerier mood. Such theatrics! All this for killing an old friend.
She began to struggle again, but I convinced her to keep quiet by unsheathing the kukri again and making another light cut on her pretty skin. I removed the gag and encouraged her to call for help; to my advantage, she had more pressing things to worry about right now (I asked her to scream with the kukri's blade to her throat).
"Lance...please," she whimpered again, another fresh stream of tears dripping down the dusty floor. I sat directly in front of her with my legs crossed, and loomed over her body.
"I know why Einsland really enjoys your body: it's so succulent. You have the looks that could turn a gay man straight. Hey, you think we could have been in a serious, understanding relationship? Well, scratch that."
The kukri passed over her short pants, and in moments, shreds of them were on the floor, poor remnants of bimbo fashion. The only thing left was her silky underwear, and this time, I had my fingers do the honor.
What passed for uneager groans and erotic grunts escaped Irma's throat as the palm of my hand squeezed into her sweaty underwear and rested on her bushy clit. The dampness was like a furry sponge, but throbbing and leaking with...with...
"I suppose this is another reason why guys love girls...an endless supply of lubricant, ready for usage." My voice was factual and cold; the stirring in my pants was hidden very well with my blank face and calm voice. Like the straight porn I sometimes watch, my two fingers easily slid into her as I pulled her panties down with my other hand. She struggled a bit, and then squealed like a virgin. The wetness was somewhat like Julian's, but this was not out of love. But there was no time to waste.
"Irma, I apologize for not making you orgasm, but the only reason we are here is because..."
I lifted my weapon, and saw the flash of a lunging figure on the oiled surface.