by Gabi Moore
“Does that hurt?”
I wasn’t sure if it did. I curled my hips towards him in response and he sunk in deeper, then with some effort slipped in another. It felt deep and dirty and wrong and just a little sore. I loved it. He began to stroke me again, and this time, I instantly understood why he had made me wait so long, had made me beg for it; I rushed back up to the brink of my orgasm and was right back on the edge of ecstasy again. My clit was on fire, but this time, the pleasure spread out from the masterful fingers he had buried in my ass. It was miraculous, really. As though something new opened up inside, and the pleasure was doubled.
In went his fingers, then out again, then in again. My entire lower body felt electrified. And that’s when I said it. I said, “I’ve never done this before” and instantly it felt phony. He laughed and slapped my ass with his other hand.
“Shhh …I want you to focus.”
So I did.
“By the time I put my cock in you, I want you to be ready to come. It’s going to hurt, but you’re going to be coming so hard, you won’t even notice.”
My body throbbed and thrummed all around his firm fingers, pressing in, then out again.
It was a crazy idea. He was bigger around than my wrist. I could scarcely accommodate him in the usual way, even though my poor pussy had been taking it almost every day for months now. I didn’t know how this was going to work. But in a way, I didn’t want it work. I wanted it to be difficult. I wanted him to have to force it. I wanted it to hurt a little. Or maybe a lot.
“I’m ready now, Vik. I want to come. Put it in…” I whined again. I was going out of my mind. The deep, raw sensations he was stirring into my body felt so good I could have come then and there and been happy.
“No, not yet…” he said, and slipped in another finger. I yelped and twitched in his lap, but he held me down firm with his hand, pressing me hard into his lap.
“You fucking like that?” he growled at me under his breath. I pressed my cheek into the floor and breathed deeply.
“I fucking love it” I said, and felt him squeeze my waist and laugh quietly to himself.
Again he stroked me until I was on the brink. Again I raced up to the edge of that delicious orgasm, and again he reigned me in. Like a good little slut, I would wait for his permission, wait that so when I finally exploded, I did it with his cock all the way deep inside my ass.
In no time I was squirming again, the effort of holding off my orgasm breaking me out in goosebumps. His cock was rock hard and hot. He slid out his three fingers and pressed the head to the opening, and it sent glorious stinging waves of pleasure all through me.
“Penny, don’t you dare come yet…” be breathed, and I tried my hardest to obey him.
He had to push hard to get inside. It hurt like hell. My ears whined and I strained at the knots on my arms as he jammed it inside. I was so wet that it slid in easily, but as the bulk of him plunged into me a sharp, tearing pain rippled out all through my pelvis and up my spine. He froze where he was and tenderly stroked my lower back for a moment.
“Shhh… just stay here with me…” he whispered. I relaxed and the searing pain melted into the most delicious pleasure. And then I wanted more. He felt my body loosen and open to him, and pressed in an inch more, then another. I felt like I could barely breathe, with all of that immense cock buried in me. My pussy was raw and open and twitching madly with pleasure, but all I could focus on was the deep, dirty feeling of his fat cock trying to wedge inside me. He pressed in a little, I breathed, he pressed in more. Eventually, by some magic, the entire shaft was inside me, and it felt warm and hard and naughty as hell. I was so thrilled to have him in me, to have that gorgeous part of him so deep in me, that I nearly came there and then.
“Penny…”
His voice brought me back to earth. I breathed in hard.
I looked down at a sight so unbelievably hot I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. My tiny ass had somehow swallowed the full length of his wide, dark dick and it was all the way inside, so that his tight abs were pressing up as close as they could to my body. I felt a silly thrill of pride rush over me.
He pulled back a little to thrust in again but I whimpered in pain. That was too much. Even I had my limits. He smiled at me and kept stroking my back.
“Look, you did it,” he said and I smiled down at the raw place where our bodies connected. I felt the soft skin of his balls press against me. With a single fingertip he planted the daintiest, faintest touch onto the tip of my clit, and lingered there for a mere moment…
The effect was out of this world. It was as though he had pushed a button and detonated a bomb inside. I rushed up to the edge of the orgasm again, except this time with so much energy I spilled right over, and before I knew it a merciless, pulsing orgasm was washing right through me. My pussy clamped down hard but the weight of his immense cock in my ass resisted me and anchored me open, sending deep, dirty waves of extra ecstasy through my stretched body. I cried out as wave after wave beat through me. My bound arms flailed around helplessly, and my hips were held down hard by both his hands, as he pinned me down with his cock. I couldn’t go anywhere. There was nothing to do but ride through those surges of pleasure-pain.
My body convulsed hard, and the twitching slowed and morphed into heavy, delicious shudders. He was still in me, and I could feel the engorged head of him somewhere still deep inside my guts. It was the nastiest, most delicious feeling in the world.
I cleared my throat to say something to him, to thank him, to beg him for mercy, I wasn’t sure yet; but when I turned to face him I saw his flushed, contorted face. He was coming too. With one last savage pump of his hips, he tore into me and I felt, deep inside, one hot spurt after another flooding into me.
“Fuck!” he growled, and the tendons in his neck looked stretched tight enough to snap.
I smiled as he dug further into me, then collapsed down onto my body, one last stab of pain as he slid slowly out. As he slid out, I felt a curious mix of relief and instant yearning. I felt empty without him. My hands still bound, we lay there a moment, and I swear I could hear his heart beating.
We looked at each other, slick with sweat, and laughed.
“I think these can come off now,” I said with a smile, wriggling a little to gesture to my bound hands. He undid the knots and we watched as the circulation came back to my arms, erasing the white marks where the strap used to be. He held me and I nestled into him. Judging by the light outside, we had been at it for a while. It was almost dark.
He sprang up and went over to his makeshift kitchen counter, and started clanging pots. I closed my eyes and dozed a little, warm, indescribable feelings washing all over my exhausted body. In a few minutes he had made some tea, and we sat together, against the wall, and drank in silence. He had his hand on the floor, one finger extended just enough to touch my leg. Just to keep contact. It made me smile inside to see it.
“Vik, what do you keep in that tin, the locked one right at the top of the shelf?” I asked, blowing the steam off my mug. He looked up at it with me. I had always wanted to ask, but he was so secretive about everything.
“That’s …stuff from my mother” he said eventually.
“She’s from Russia?” I had heard people in the village say that. He seemed a little uncomfortable by the question, but he smiled at me, that one little finger still keeping contact.
“Yes. She was. She came here from Russia when she was about twenty years old…” he started.
“Vik,” I said and looked at him earnestly. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to” I said.
He smiled. “I want to.”
He took a sip and contemplated the box on the shelf.
“That’s my passport. Some documents. When my mother came to Malawi, she met my father here. She was ill and he was the doctor who saved her life. They ended up falling in love. And, well, the rest is history…” He looked back down into his cup.
“But
where’s your mother now?” It was a question I had been dying to ask. He so rarely spoke about any of this that I thought I might as well ask it now, while he at least seemed open to the idea. He sighed loudly and swirled the tea in his cup.
“She left,” he said, and then we sat in silence for a while.
He took a few more sips and started speaking again.
“I never really knew her, to be honest. I remember a little form when I was very young. She left when I was five or six. I can remember a few things. I remember her face, sometimes. Her name was Oksana. She worked with one of the NGOs that was big at the time. But the thing you have to remember is…” here he stopped and looked a little pained. “Well, she was ashamed of us, what can I say. Back then people were worse about mixed relationships, and my father was as black as they come. She didn’t want a baby either. I think she wanted to pretend none of it ever happened. She was …how can I put this? She was a “society lady”, very prim, she was supposed to go around and do charity work. Honestly, she just saw me and my father as a big mistake.”
“So she just left her child?” It seemed inconceivable to me. And what’s more, I was suddenly madly uncomfortable with the parallels between her story and mine.
“Well, I don’t think it was easy for her. But she had nothing here. She was spoiled, from what I hear. She wanted a life of luxury. She wasn’t made for this place, you know? So her and my father fought. She said she would send money. Do what she could to help. But that she never wanted to hear from us again. My father told her to shove her money. Growing up here was hard. I didn’t belong. I told myself I’d leave one day, and go to Russia and find her” he said.
“And so? You never did?”
“The older I got the more I realized that …well, she was gone. There was no point in finding her. Before he died, it was just my dad and me. To be honest, I’m sure she doesn’t even remember my name.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. How could a mother forget her son?”
He scowled a little, then leaned forward and kissed me.
“No, it’s fine. When you think about it, why would she have stayed? For some two-bit life in the jungle with a kid who was an embarrassment? She had a wealthy family. A whole life in Russia. What was she going to do, come live here in the middle of nowhere with us?”
“That doesn’t sound like such a crazy idea” I said, and he kissed me again.
Chapter Eighteen - Penelope
“And that one?” he asked.
I peered up at a chaotic looking tree with sausage shaped pods scattered in its branches.
“Too easy! It’s tamarind, obviously!” I said, and carried on walking.
There are herbs for everything. Herbs to make you sleep and those to wake you up. Herbs for broken bones and sore eyes and insect bites. Herbs to make babies come, or to keep them away. Vik knew them all.
“Ok, then, smarty pants, what about this?”
“Honeybush. Easy.”
“This?” he asked, walking on and pointing to something I didn’t recognize. I peered at it for a moment.
“That’s a rusted piece of can” I said and laughed.
“Just seeing if you’re paying attention.”
I loved these walks with him. Back at home, the sum total of my gardening experience started and ended at buying a basil pot from Walmart and putting it in the kitchen window. But Vik had shown me a whole new world. That for so many things in life, you didn’t need to garden at all. That mother nature was already her own garden, complete and wonderful, and all you needed to do was know what you were looking for. And where to find it. Coming out with him in the mornings like this to fetch ingredients was a little like going to Walmart, I thought with a secret smile. Shopping in the wilderness.
He handed me a yellow pom pom flower and I put it in my basket, but not before holding it up against my blue kitenge and marveling at the contrast.
“Look how beautiful we look together.” He looked, smiled and carried on walking.
I could tell people in the village thought it was dumb for me to wear things like this, but I simply didn’t give a shit. The wax batik fabric was sturdy, easy to clean and incredibly hard wearing. It held its shape, was cool to wear and came in festive prints. What’s not to like? Little did they know, I was fully planning to start wearing one on my head soon, just as soon as I got the hang of tying it properly.
“If you lived in America, you could be on TV. Like, you could have your own reality show, where you teach people about how to survive in the wild and stuff,” I said, merrily walking after him in the warm sun. I loved these kinds of days: broad, warm and bright. A day that was like a hug. Nobody outside except us two.
“Well, thank God I don’t live in America then” he said, a little gruffly.
“Hey I was just joking. Just saying.”
We walked on in silence.
“Still, I think you have such amazing skills. You’re really going to make something of them one day.”
He stopped in his tracks.
“One day…?”
“Yeah. One day. I mean when you finally leave her or …whatever.”
I saw his hand swish with agitation through the grass, trying to shake the seeds loose.
“Why do you assume I would leave?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t assume, it’s just that …well, don’t look at me like that, surely you’re not going to stay here forever?”
His hand went roughly through the long grass as he started walking again, picking up the pace.
“Well, are you?” he said to me, still not turning around to face me. I had to trot a little to keep up with his long, muscular strides through the bush. His big, hard thighs were mostly bare, but the grass never seemed to bother him.
“Jeez, Vik, I don’t know. I’m just saying. Maybe you could come with me back to America. We could organize something…”
“But who said I want to go to America with you?” he snapped. The conversation was beginning to hurt.
“Nobody. Nobody said anything about that. I’m just thinking about, you know, down the line. In the future…”
“Are you happy with me here, right now, Penny?”
“Of course I’m happy! I’m happier than I’ve ever been, you know how happy I’ve –”
“Then why are you already thinking of leaving? Why does everything have to lead somewhere? Why does everything have to be something else?”
I had never seen him angry before.
“I …I don’t know what you mean,” I sputtered. He was turned towards me now, and his figure was imposing. A quick, ugly thought flashed into my mind. There was nobody else here but us two. He could do whatever he liked with me.
“I’m just saying that …eventually we have to think of the future, right? I don’t understand why you’re angry,” I said at last, my voice cracking. I was meant to go home a full week ago, but had extended my stay. Dylan was giving me the silent treatment, but nobody in the village had said a word about me staying on.
“So, how much longer are you going to grace us with your presence for then? Another six months? Three?”
Before I could reply he was speaking again.
“Maybe we should all just wait to see what your plans are and then adjust our whole lives for you?”
My face grew hot.
“Ok, what in the hell is your problem?” I said, raising my voice. I would argue till I was blue in the face that I had not stayed just for his sake. I hadn’t. But he was certainly part of the reason. In fact, I had more or less thrown away my relationship with Dylan to come here and work on this stupid garden, and spend time with him. So why was he being like this?
“Do you realize how much I’ve had to give up to stay here?” I said, my voice matching the bitterness in his.
“To give up? You poor thing.”
“I’m serious Vik. You’re acting like all of this is easy for me. There’s no way I can ever marry Dylan now, and it’s all beca--”
“Oh? How sad for you. How will you survive without a husband?”
My eyes prickled with tears. He recoiled a little, and looked sorry to have said it.
“Look, I’m just confused about why you’re talking about ‘a future’ like that when you’re going to leave anyway”
“But…”
“You’re going to leave right?” he barked.
“Well, eventually, yes.”
“Then, there is no future,” he said and spun around to walk on again.
“But …we could work something out. We could find a way to…”
“Yes? To what? Live happily ever after? Are you going to put me in your backpack and take me home and keep me under your bed?” he said.
“Vik. That’s unfair.”
His face sunk a little.
“I know. You’re right, I’m sorry. This is my fault. I already knew all of this was going to happen.”
“All of what?”
He was turning into a big pouting child before my very eyes. This was a side to him I’d never seen before. Did he want me to stay? To go? I was so confused.
“That we’d just have some fun together and then part ways. That’s just how these things go,” he said, his voice cold.
I walked after him for a few paces, the ground beneath me suddenly seeming so much drier and cracklier than it did a moment before.
“So …let me get this straight. You don’t see us, like, staying together,” I said, hating how young and naïve I sounded. I heard my own voice with his ears and hated myself for it. He turned again and looked at me. His gaze was hard, and all the warm depth I was so used to finding in those beautiful blue eyes seemed closed off to me now, and everything became hard and flinty instead.
His jaw looked so tight. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something. Waiting for me to utter some magical words that he needed to hear. But I was at a loss.
I had held the full heft of his body between my thighs almost every day for months now. I had anchored against this same chest over and over again as he pummeled into me, and shuddered and came in my arms, and we had fallen asleep together, his great big body beside mine, and he had said he loved me. I started to cry.
