by Krissy Kneen
‘I’m sorry,’ he interrupted.
She kissed his cheek, laughed a little nervously. ‘Don’t be. I was the one who…I don’t know what got into me.’
He stood and helped her up as she brushed at her skirt. She turned for him to wipe the dust from her back, feeling like a teenager. Laughing a little nervously when he picked a lolly wrapper out of her hair.
‘It won’t be weird at work tomorrow?’
‘I suppose it might be. Maybe we should agree to go for another drink. Just to normalise it. We will probably laugh about this in the future.’
He laughed now but it sounded strained. His penis was already beginning to stiffen once more, a clear hard outline inside his pants. She felt the urge to let her fingers circle it again, a fond farewell hug.
She closed her eyes and stepped away from him. ‘Time for me to get home.’
‘But I’ll see you tomorrow at work?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then a drink after?’
‘Yes. I think so, I’ll just have to check with Aaron. I don’t think we have anything planned.’
‘Okay.’
They hugged goodbye a little awkwardly. Katherine turned and walked towards home, a quick, shallow heartbeat pacing her. She wondered if Aaron would notice her anxiousness. What would she say? She was already very late.
She paused outside their apartment block and smoothed down her clothing. She thought her hair might be a little dishevelled; she unclipped it and let it hang free.
Dinner was ready. She could smell it, a roast. That was a surprise, Aaron usually did something light in the evenings. She wondered for a moment if she had forgotten some special event, a birthday, the anniversary of the day they first made love. Aaron was sitting at the kitchen bench, his laptop open. Katherine saw a flash of video on the screen, too far away to make out what he had been watching. When he heard the front door shut behind her he folded the computer closed quickly and hurried across the room to kiss her hello.
She smiled as casually as she was able. She had washed her face and gargled at a water fountain but still she wondered whether he would be able to smell another man’s semen on her breath. But the kiss was quick—brotherly—and she hugged him with real warmth. He seemed not to notice the creases on her skirt, the tiny smear of dirt on her dress, next to her left breast.
‘Sorry I’m so late. Drinks after work. They want to make it a regular thing, too, which I’m not sure is such a good idea. You know the people I work with. I suppose I should go to the first couple before I start making excuses.’ She was talking too much. He would think something was wrong if she didn’t shut up. She moved past him into the kitchen. ‘Something smells amazing.’
That night she reached for him in her sleep. She rubbed herself against his soft flesh, opened her eyes and discovered that it was his pillow pressed between her legs. It was very late. She checked the clock and after a moment the green glow of the clock face organised itself into recognisable numbers. Two o’clock. She rubbed at her eyes, swung her legs out over the side of the bed.
Aaron was in the kitchen where she had left him, with the laptop open on the bench. He had his earbuds in and was nodding, typing one-handed. Odd. He always touch-typed with both hands. She took a step forward. She would have said his name, but he wouldn’t hear her with the earphones in.
When she was close enough she noticed that there was a picture moving on the screen. She crept forward, her feet silent on the carpet. She thought it might be someone naked. Yes, a girl. He was watching a naked girl. The girl was facing the screen, her body gyrating, her breasts dangling beneath her. Something was wrong with the picture.
Katherine took another step forward, squinted into the dark. The camera was being moved. The girl was side-on to it now, propped up on her hands and knees. Her face showed pain. Or, no, maybe pleasure. Katherine was no stranger to that fine line herself.
The girl was crouched beneath an animal. Some kind of small horse, a miniature pony, and as she watched she realised the rocking motion was being driven by the animal’s thrusting. She watched as the creature drove its hips against the girl. She was watching sex. A girl having sex with a horse.
She was appalled and suddenly horribly aroused. Aaron typed something into the computer with his free hand. She was too far away to see the tiny letters that appeared at the side of the screen. Was he talking to the girl? Was he talking to whoever was holding the camera?
There was another person in the room, someone who was showing her brother these disturbing images, and Aaron was…Katherine realised, with the same mix of disgust and desire, that her brother was moving his hand in his lap. Stroking in time with the horse’s thrusts. Aaron was masturbating one-handed while he carried on a conversation about the scene with the other.
She stepped backwards. One careful step at a time. On the screen the animal lunged, then stepped back. She saw the huge engorged penis slipping out of the woman’s sex, saw the sperm cascading out of her, saw her brother pick up the pace, racing towards his own pleasure. She turned and fled upstairs, diving into bed and pulling the sheet tightly around her own body.
Aaron was downstairs watching porn. Aaron was watching bestial porn. Aaron was masturbating to weird, hardcore, bestial pornography.
The image of the penis emerging from inside the girl, the gush of semen, so much semen. She closed her eyes but it was still there, the picture of it, clearer in memory than it had been on the screen. The final thrust, the pained, ecstatic expression of the woman, the undulation, her tits rocking back and forth, the sudden back-stepping of the horse, the penis—such a huge penis for so small a creature—and all that ejaculate.
The image of it repeated. She did not want to admit that it aroused her, every repetition making her feel more alive to the sensations of her own skin. This shock so soon after her first kiss with a man who was not…A stranger’s fingers inside her own vagina. The idea of the horse somehow tangled with the feel of his whole hand slipping up and under her knickers, the thrusts from the knot of his fingers blurring with the thrusts of the horse. The quickening rhythm of her brother’s hand on his cock, the way he used to let her watch him masturbating above her in their bed, the spray of his come splattering her breasts, her chin, the feel of it dripping into the thicket of her pubic hair, the gushing come of the horse slipping out with the fat dark shaft of its penis. She was coming.
She tried not to, kept her hands clear of her own flesh, but the images became a barrage, overtaking her consciousness, spilling their poisonous seed onto her cunt.
She convulsed. It was overwhelming, the palpitations racked her whole body. She clamped her thighs together, hoping to step back from the edge of her excitement, but it was too late. She plummeted and her body took her on a ride more powerful than the orgasm of that evening in the alleyway.
The climax left her panting, sweating and confused. She heard footsteps on the stairs and turned quickly onto her side, pressing the palm of her hand against her chest where her heart still thudded so powerfully that surely the whole bed would rock with the force of it.
Her brother undressed and slipped into bed. She held her breath as he settled onto the pillow. She could smell the faint odour of his excitement and she wondered for a moment if he could smell her too. The two of them, as always, bonded in their mutual desire and shame. She lay with her eyes tightly shut, her hand pressed against her still-thudding chest.
She felt his hand rest lightly on her hip, felt herself stiffen slightly. She wanted him to know that she was asleep, deep in sleep, so deep that even his gentle caress on her thigh would not wake her.
Eventually Aaron took his hand from her thigh, turned over onto his side and seemed to settle.
She realised she was gulping her wine and set it down on the bar in front of them. Trent was smiling at her. He had noticed too. She blushed and laughed.
‘Hard day at the coalface?’
She nodded. ‘You?’
‘Oh, you know, t
he usual. Rescuing kittens from trees, healing the sick, saving the world.’
‘Didn’t know a librarian’s lot could be so exciting.’
‘Oh yes. I only got into this job for the thrills.’
‘I only got into the job to avoid the library fines.’
He laughed. ‘I suppose we are both in it for the books.’
She lifted her glass and tapped it against his. It set up a pretty bell-like sound that rang as she lifted the glass to her lips. ‘So how is the Galgut, anyway?’
‘Have you been stalking me?’
Katherine grinned. ‘I saw you put it in your bag. I wanted to read that. I loved his other books.’
‘I don’t know if I like it yet. It is good, but not like the last one.’
‘Which I loved.’
‘No, which I loved.’
They grinned together and then fell into an awkward silence. This was the moment when they should talk about what happened yesterday in the alleyway. The ghost of the act hung in the space between them and Katherine had to sidestep it to see Trent’s face at all.
‘Well,’ said Katherine, upending the last of the wine between her lips, ‘I suppose I should go home.’
‘Yeah. I should go too.’ They stood. There was an awkward moment at the door, where Trent rested his fingers in the small of her back just as she turned. Then his hand was on her stomach, too low to be anything but sexual. He snatched it away as if it might burn her skin.
‘I was going to say something completely inappropriate,’ she told him then.
‘Were you?’ he said. ‘Say it anyway.’
‘I was going to ask if you would walk me to the alley by the bookshop.’
‘And you changed your mind?’
‘No.’
‘Then ask me.’
‘Will you?’
And Trent said, ‘Yes.’
It was difficult but somehow they managed it. She was tall enough so that if she lifted her leg and leaned forward she could touch his penis with the slippery lips of her vagina. After that it all happened very quickly. She turned him, eased him backwards. And her fingers were fumbling with his fly almost before she had found his tongue with her own. She wouldn’t put him inside her. She only meant to touch herself against him, rub the hard tender skin against her clitoris. Only this kind of connection would temper the heat at her groin.
She didn’t mean to fuck him, not really, but once their genitals were touching she was overwhelmed by the idea that this was not her brother. His seed was not at all genetically similar to her egg and somehow even the idea of this otherness was enough to make her lose herself in her desire to have his cock inside her, dripping as it was with pre-come and then when it was in her she began to raise and drop her hips, milking him, desperate for the one thing she had never felt before.
‘Come in me,’ she said in his ear and the years of properness melted with this one lewd idea. ‘Shoot come in me, I need to feel it.’ And in her head the horse mounted the girl, the big cock pulling back and away, dripping its semen onto the ground. ‘Come on,’ she whispered in his ear, the urgent heat of her breath infecting him, making his hips jerk up to meet hers at a more urgent pace, ‘I can’t hold off, I’m going to come. Do it now.’
And he did. She felt it shooting into her and pushed her clitoris hard against his pubic bone. Her palpitations gripped him so tightly that he gasped and she heard him whimper oh god as if this moment of orgasm might be his last, a sudden wilting of his spine and she felt the juices spill out, dripping down towards her knees. And yet she was loath to release him from her embrace.
‘I’d fuck you again now if I could,’ she said into his neck, her voice hoarse. She barely recognised herself now. ‘I’d lay you down and ride you till you begged me to stop.’
And his whisper, shuddering into her ear, ‘Do anything you want to me. You want me on the ground?’
She nodded and he slid down the wall until he was sitting, braced against the brickwork. His cock slipped out from inside her. The horse backing out of the girl. She slipped with him, onto him, crouched over him.
She had planned this. In the morning, choosing her clothes for the day, she had picked a long skirt. She could wear this without her usual thick tights. She’d picked her highest heels, just a small rise, but pretty shoes, dancing shoes, fucking shoes. She almost picked out the black lacy underwear that Aaron used to like so much, changing her mind at the last moment, choosing instead to go without underwear at all.
All day at work she had been aware of the spreading dampness trickling down her thighs; she had hummed with a sense of potential. When she saw Trent in the children’s section, him with a copy of Black Beauty, her with Brown Skin Blue, the chance meeting seemed infused with potential. She imagined them entwined on the giant Hungry Caterpillar beanbag, tangling beside Shaun Tan and Narelle Oliver. Their hands brushed as they sidled past each other in the aisle and she felt the brief contact deep in her cunt, a twitching of the muscles there. Her nipples snapped into tight balls.
She settled into his lap now, and his cock was already slightly firm again. She could feel it with the lips of her vagina as she rocked forward and back against it. He raised his head to her singlet top. The nipple was still peeping above the neckline, still damp with his spit. He bit at it gently and then sucked it into his mouth. She felt his cock swell as he did it. She tested it with the sperm-slick flesh of her cunt, and it was firm enough. She raised herself a little and reached down to position him directly beneath her. When she settled onto her knees his cock slipped inside her. He suckled and she felt the thickness grow, pushing further.
She slipped her tongue into his ear and he pushed his hips and she felt him thick and slippery in her most sensitive parts.
‘You came in me,’ she said, as if this was new information that she had only just realised. ‘I have your come inside me. I want you to do it again.’
He lifted her easily, holding her head as a father might hold a baby when he laid her down on the pavement; a gentle cradling. In the next second his thrust was so forceful that she felt her hair pulled sharply by friction against the concrete.
She lifted her hips and pushed back, filled with a violent kind of need. She wanted him bruised from his contact with her hips. She bumped up against him so hard that his hand slipped and his chest thumped onto hers. She heard the sound of his pleasure or pain, felt his fingers slip down to grab at the flesh on her hips. He held her still and pushed into her again, a series of hard thrusts.
She spread her knees as wide as she was able. She wanted to feel his come shoot right up into her guts. She wanted to feel his cock pulse at the door of her womb. The damage was done now and she was determined to underline it with this second, deeper connection. He pulled back and she groaned sharply in disappointment. She tried to lift her hips up higher, but he held them firmly against the ground.
‘Hang on,’ he told her, ‘I don’t want to come too quickly.’
‘Come like a horse,’ she said, shocked by the coarseness of her language. ‘Come like you are going to tear me up inside.’
‘Oh fuck.’
And he lost his grip on her just long enough for her to struggle out from under him, tipping him onto his back like a wrestler taking advantage of a particular hold, flipping him and climbing him with a frantic desperation. She bore down on his cock, plunging her body up and down, taking as much of him into her at each thrust as she could hold. She reached her climax on the thud of a downward motion and he kicked back up into her, gripping her waist so tightly that his fingerprints would mark her for weeks.
He came. She felt it, the hot gush of his seed pumping into her. His open shirt was in her fists, his hips were bucking and she gripped him with her cunt, drinking him to the last drop, fresh sperm adding to the orgasm before this. She was swimming in his slippery juices. Her hair was tangled and sweat-slicked, her skin so damp that she seemed to glow in the spill of fluorescence from the Chinese takeaway. Her nipples glared
out over the singlet, over the bra that had been so roughly pulled down. She was glorious in this moment and he spasmed one last time, his eyes wide with wonder as he burned the vision of her into memory.
She took a shaky breath in and stood. His cock slipped out of her with a sucking sound. Her cunt dripped and the splashes dotted his stomach. She felt in this moment a power she had never known. She had fucked him twice without love. She had fucked him and he had let her take his sperm into her.
She stood above him, sweating, panting, shaking back her tangled hair. Her flesh spilled from her top, her skirt lay like an abandoned skin on the footpath beside them. The red fluorescent light outlined her still-hard nipples and turned her matted pubic hair to flame.
There was the rhythmic click of someone walking past across the street. They might be seen. Someone might turn into their alley and find her there in this moment of glory. For once, the thought of discovery did not cause her anxiety. She would stare them down, dare them to comment. She had just had sex twice with a man she barely knew. The kind of sex other people enjoyed, sex with a man who was not a relative. Sex with a man to whom she owed nothing.
‘That was amazing,’ he said quietly. ‘I have never had sex with a married woman before.’
‘Well. Now you have.’
He reached for her hand and she helped him up from the dirty footpath. She could see the damp stains on the pale fabric of his open shirt, wondered if her own shirt would show the signs of their coupling. Would Aaron know? Would he be able to tell?
‘My husband watches pornography on the internet while I am asleep,’ she said. She had thought she might be ashamed to make this confession; it surprised her to find she wasn’t.
‘Is that why you just had sex with me?’
‘I suppose it is. Is that terribly wrong?’
‘Maybe.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m glad you did. You are by far the most gorgeous woman I have ever fucked.’
