by L. T. Smith
I didn’t know what to do.
Don’t get me wrong … I knew what I wanted to do … just didn’t know how to do it.
My face must have said it all. I actually felt my jaw drop and my face slacken. Sarah pulled herself away from me and ducked her head down to capture my gaze. ‘What’s up, love?’
I couldn’t answer her, but I did close my mouth … nothing more of a sexual turnoff than a gobsmacked expression.
Sarah looked at me intently, concern radiating from her. She thought I was backing out … that I didn’t want this. ‘It’s not you …’ more concerned looks, and I hastily added ‘I just … well … I …’
Confusion scrambled onto her features, suddenly to be replaced by a growing understanding, then a smile … a reassuring smile that warmed my belly and made me feel a little more in control. ‘Don’t worry, honey … you can leave that up to me.’ I didn’t know if I liked the sound of that, and my expression said so. ‘I mean … well … I’ll show you … guide you … and it’s a case of doing what feels right …’
That was better. I planted a soft kiss on her lips, and nodded my head in acceptance of what was to come.
Without a word, she took my hand and kissed the palm as I curled my fingers around her chin.
And from a distance, I could hear my voice saying ‘Let’s go.’
Nervous? You bet. Scared? Granted. Excited? Well … I think that’s a given.
Sarah had led me upstairs to her room, her thumb brushing the back of my hand reassuringly, taking shy looks over her shoulder as we neared the place where I would soon lose my innocence, and hopefully this ache in my gut, chest and groin.
Her room was like any other student’s room, but I could tell she had tidied it up for my visit, as the smell of polish still clung in the air. The lamp next to her double bed was on already, and the corner at the top of the duvet was folded back in invite.
I heard the door close behind me and then felt Sarah come up behind. I closed my eyes and waited for her touch.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Her hands slipped onto my shoulders, and she gently caressed them. My eyes fluttered … it felt good. Her body came closer to mine and I could feel her breath hitting my neck in short gasps. Then her lips … tentative in their quest … hovered over the nape of my neck, making all the short hairs at its base quiver.
I could feel her push herself into me, her breasts against my back, her hands slipping down my arms in one long stroke only to snake around my waist and up the front, to cup my breasts.
Nipples strained … I pushed into her hands … the butterflies in my stomach transforming into something more carnal … more wanting … more … just more.
Before I knew what was happening I was naked. Sarah had slipped my clothes from my body … and I allowed her, completely unresisting under her hands … her lips … her mouth … her tongue. My knees were beginning to weaken, all my energy concentrating on the building up of sensation that was crawling over me like a rash … a very … nice … rash … a very … demanding rash … an erotic rash … a consuming rash …
I turned in her arms and cupped her face to stare in her eyes. I don’t know what I was looking for, but for a split second I felt the rush of disappointment, as what I had been searching for wasn’t there. But … I carried on anyway. She turned her face and planted a delicate kiss onto my palm, reassuring me with her eyes.
Her lips were moist and inviting. Her flesh was pliant and warm. My hands were nervous … shaking … trying to fulfil a need that I knew would kill me or drive me mad.
I undressed her, marvelling at her body; the body of a woman; the body of the woman I was going to sleep with.
Well … not exactly sleep.
The bed was soft yet firm as I sat on the edge. Sarah sat opposite. Touching. Stroking. Caressing the fears and anxieties from me.
Desire was building and forcing the fear below … and down … and away. Mouths sought mouths … tongues sought tongues. Nipples were licked and nipped. Stomachs were treated to tentative fingers searching southwards. Southwards to the pooling wetness of want that had collected around my now dominant need.
Fingers parted lips and pushed down to the core of this moisture … this rising flood … this pit of delight. And like a good student I followed her actions, to be greeted with a short gasp from her parted mouth, the air rushing against my face.
I could feel myself falling backwards … in slow motion, the movements sure and steady … a complete juxtaposition to how I was feeling.
A hot body covered my own … smooth and supple and ripe for the taking. Skin brushed against skin, the sweat mingling in a growing sense of neediness … the rhythm becoming erratic.
I pushed my thigh between Sarah’s leg and she clamped her own around it, capturing our foraging fingers inside, and her hips picked up the tempo, her breathing hoarse and fast … my breathing keeping pace … my hand rubbing her clit with growing confidence. I was mimicking her actions … nothing was truly me … nothing was what I had thought of myself … just a copy.
But that didn’t stop it from feeling good … from feeling incredibly good.
I looked into her face … grimacing with promise … her teeth biting her bottom lip as she thrust herself into me … onto me … her hand becoming more confused. I knew she was close.
‘Fuck me, Lou … for god’s sake fuck me!’ But … I thought I was? I was doing everything she was doing … ‘Fingers … God … fingers … inside … now …’
Ah!
I lowered my hand to her entrance, and waited outside, revelling in the feel of her juices dripping down before pushing myself into her … just one finger … slipping effortlessly … ‘More …’ Just the one word, which was gasped out into my neck, her own hand raging with tension on my craving desire.
A second followed, then a third. I could feel her pushing down and swallowing them inside, the tightening of her walls crushing my fingers. A low keening moan broke free from her. I knew she was cumming … and I forgot my own want and watched her … watched her … mesmerised by the agonisingly rapturous expression distorting her beautiful face as she came … falling forwards … her mouth open on my throat … the wail of her orgasm bouncing off my skin just before she sucked on my flesh.
Then I felt her smile, her lips twisting in the post-coital smile of the satisfied. Teeth nipped my neck and travelled upwards, along my jaw line, until they reached my mouth, where they covered my lips in a wet, contented kiss … soft and consuming.
Her hand came up to my breast and teased around the edge, slowly, until expert fingers rolled the nipple around, gently pinching at the same time. A spark of adrenaline rushed from all parts of my body to dissect itself and charge to my breast or a more southerly region. Both were ready. Both were willing. Both were stoking a fire of expectation.
‘Your turn, love.’
With that, Sarah began her descent … kissing and nibbling all my exposed skin along the way, building and prepping the fire burning below decks; the once smouldering heat was turning into something a little out of control.
And it felt good. So fucking good.
Fingers reached their destination before her head, and began to slip through the waiting wetness before moving to one side as her mouth lowered and … a tongue … licked …
‘Jesus…’ The sensation was mind blowing. Tender yet perfectly pressured along my clit. Just the tip of her tongue slipping with practiced ease along the top. My backside pushed upwards, forcing my want into her face. She just pulled back and kept the same amount of pressure.
I felt a flicker at my wetness, shortly followed by a moan as she dipped at my opening. I wanted to spear myself onto that thick, wet muscle, allow her to sample the juices I had conjured just for her. The flat of her tongue rested at the base until it began its ascent, coating my clit in an unbearably slow movement that was … just … right.
And then she went down again … then up … then down … up and down … slow and sure
… then a little quicker … and harder … and my hips joined in the dance of the mouth and the tongue … making a threesome of rhythm … a glorious rhythm … a tempo leading to the upcoming crescendo.
Her hands grasped my hips and pulled myself into her face, making the contact exquisite. Lips covered my clit and sucked and I could feel the orgasm raging … racing … ravaging through me like a stampede … unstoppable … dangerous … I watched her head bobbing up and down; saw the whitening of her knuckles as she gripped my pelvis stopping me from meting out my desire in panicked thrusts.
Then it all changed. The image I mean. The dark brown hair seemed black in the light; the rounded cheekbones looked chiselled … the eyelashes darker … the arms more toned and longer. She flicked her eyes to meet mine and I saw them lighter … I saw them twinkle …
‘FFFFFuuuuuuuccccccccckkkkk yeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssss!’ I was over, my hands tangled in her hair, fingers twisting the thick locks into a frenzy of knots … hips grinding into her with a need to satisfy. My eyes were tightly closed, and they were begging my brain to keep the image of those cheekbones … those eyelashes … those eyes, as I rode out my cumming on someone else’s face.
God I felt alive. I felt every nerve ending stand up and scream ‘YES!’ as I dragged out all the sputtering sparks that had helped me to reach my goal. Blood pumped to the key spot and collected, swelling the bud that was safely captured in Sarah’s mouth. My breathing was erratic and my chest heaved in labour.
But my heart was empty. I felt as if I had sold myself for a quick fix … sold out my heart for an orgasm. I felt shallow.
Sarah lifted her eyes to meet mine and a stupid grin covered her face. And my heart ached with guilt. I had used her. Used her. Used her to forget my attraction to Ash.
I felt awful.
My smile was weak to say the least, but I don’t think Sarah noticed … just thought I was weak from my climax. She clambered up my body, placing soft, wet kisses along the way, until she reached my mouth. I could taste myself on her lips … musky … a little sweet … different.
And evidence of what I had just done.
But it didn’t stop me licking around her lips trying to capture the taste of my traitorous body.
I think Sarah wanted to go at it again, by all the soft stroking, kissing and nuzzling she was doing, but I just couldn’t … not then. My kisses became more chaste, intermittent with shy smiles and tentative strokes, until she finally accepted there was going to be no round two … well … not right away.
She slipped to my side and pulled me over to her, my face pressing into the dip of her throat. It felt comfortable lying on my side being held by her. Not fantastic, or that it filled me with peace or completeness … just comfortable.
Deft fingers stroked my arm, calming me for some reason, lulling my eyes closed … chasing away the demons of doubt … allowing me to doze off …
And that’s how the evening ended. Me in Sarah’s arms, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted.
Although, the exhaustion came through the depletion of emotions that had ravaged my body, the guilt, the yearning … the longing for something else … something different … someone … different.
And the knowledge that that someone could never be mine.
Dawn found me lying on my side with my back to Sarah. She was spooned up behind me with her arm draped over my stomach, and I could feel her breath on my skin. It was pleasant, but not the all-consuming emotion I had been expecting after making love for the first time.
I liked Sarah. A lot. She had introduced me to the part of me that was so well hidden I would have needed an archaeologist to uncover it. I liked kissing her, touching her … making love to her. I liked the sensations her mouth, tongue and fingers brought out in me. I enjoyed the orgasm … the first one I’d experienced with someone else other than myself.
But I didn’t like the fact it wasn’t Ash.
And I didn’t like the fact I had used Sarah to fulfil the constant craving I had for my friend.
What to do?
Did I tell Sarah? Tell Ash? Go without sex? Rely solely on my right hand for comfort and contentment?
Or did I play the game … accept what I had with Sarah and just carry on.
Thoughts whirled around my head, thoughts of Ash versus Sarah … and although I really wanted Ash to win, reason made me go with Sarah. The old adage ‘Better the Devil you know’ was the only thought I could muster.
A sigh escaped, and I felt Sarah’s arm tighten around me.
Here goes nothing … or everything, depending on how you looked at it.
I turned in her embrace and began to kiss her throat. A contented whimper broke loose from her and I could feel her fingers trailing themselves along my spine, down to my arse to cover the flesh with goosebumps.
The fire began once again … at first a flicker … then a flame … and then control was given over as I fell into her and her desire for me. Hungry kisses, touches and whispered words spewed forth into this fire.
I just had to be careful I didn’t get burned … or burn Sarah along the way.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LATER THAT DAY saw me leaving Sarah and making my way home. My heart was heavy, but I was definitely sore in certain places … a nice kind of sore, if you get my drift.
Jo was waiting for me as I entered the bedroom, and hardly gave me moment to catch my bearings before she bombarded me with questions. Mainly, where had I spent the night.
It was too much. The heaviness in my chest split open and seeped throughout the rest of my body seeking release. I stumbled towards the bed, bag dropping to the floor, and fell into a heap, barely catching myself.
The sob wracked through my body and broke out into the stunned room. A distinct wail … a howl of agony … a definite realisation of what I had done. I had had sex with someone for the wrong reasons … used someone to satiate my own longings. And I was ashamed.
Ashamed.
Ashamed of my own inability to say no. Ashamed because I used that sweet girl. Ashamed because I enjoyed it.
But mainly I was ashamed because I was gay … and I had held it inside, bottling it all away to fester and become something sordid and freakish. I knew it wasn’t … how can two people loving each other be wrong, whatever sex they are.
The thought of telling anyone made me nauseous … collected in my throat and physically choked me. Tears rained down my face, and I could feel the heaving sobs rattle and spill onto and into the covers of my bed. Jo was behind me, her smooth comforting hand on my shoulder softly rubbing along the heaving muscles trying to soothe me.
Which, obviously, made things ten times worse and my sobbing increased. I could hear her trying to shush me … calm me … comfort me … words jumbling over each other in an attempt to redeem themselves … in order to redeem me for some stupid reason.
I felt her lift me, turn me, capture me in her comforting embrace and I buried my face into the safety of her, believing this would be the last time it would happen.
I cried … and cried … and cried some more. Jo stroked my face, removing the tears with loving fingers, planting soft sisterly kisses on my head, gently rocking me into a disturbing sense of oblivion.
‘Come on, Lou … it can’t be all that bad.’ And I was off again, turning my face into her and burying deep, trying to hide my shame. ‘If you are crying for what I think you’re crying for, then don’t. It doesn’t bother me who you sleep with.’
I stopped mid sob … it kind of jammed in my throat in surprise, until I trickled it out, all the power from it evaporating.
I lay there. And …
… waited.
All I could hear was our breathing (mine definitely more ragged), and the sound of my heart chasing the blood back into the shocked veins in a dire attempt to bring all my senses back to life.
‘What do you mean?’ It came out small, distant, accusatory.
Jo sucked in a breath. Deep and full. ‘I mean … I don’t care w
ho you sleep with … I’ll still love you no matter what.’
I lifted myself up and stared into her face. She couldn’t mean what I thought she meant. How on earth would she know about whom I slept with, or whom I wanted to sleep with for that matter?
Hiccupping sobs broke free, sobs of the child who has cried too long and too hard, and I met her eyes full on.
Clear and focused. Truthful. Caring. Open.
Just Jo. My Jo. My sister, Jo.
I felt exposed. All the experiences from the night before came back and played themselves out in my head. I felt my head shake itself from side to side, trying to dispel the image of Sarah between my legs … my hand on her wet …
‘Lou?’
Reality snapped back and I just stared at her in awe. Once again Jo had shown she loved me … whatever. And at his moment I needed all the love I could get. But did she really know what, or should I say whom, I was crying about? How would she feel when she realised I had used Sarah? Would she be as forgiving then?
‘Tell me … whatever it is, I will still love you. I’m your sister … you should know me by now.’
Images of Jo comforting me when my life crashed ten years ago. Sounds of her voice comforting me after bad dreams … words of advice … caring messages over the years. The feel of her hugs when I felt low … the pat on the back when I had done anything good … the ear I moaned to when I felt like a moan. Her laughter when I told her a funny story … the tears when I explained why animal testing was cruel … the jokes … the friendship … the always knowing she would be there …
… no matter what.
And she had been.
Always there … always there … for me. In every way, shape or form, she had always been there.
So why would now be any different? She loved me. And I loved her.
The breath I sucked in seemed ice cold in my throat … like the winds of change. This was it … I had to tell her what had happened. I had to let her know who I really was … what I had done.
I sat up, leaned over to my bedside cabinet and snatched a tissue from the box. Jo watched intently as I wiped my eyes, and then blew my nose vigorously. I was shaking inside … quaking with fear, but I knew this was the right thing to do. I had to come clean … had to share this secret with someone before it burst from me.
