I had a lover whose touch was as comfortable as that of a brother. His face had a youthful look and his body the flexibility of the eventual surfer. He was restless, wilful as a spoiled child and never seemed to focus on anyone or anything. Artsy and sweet on the outside, I wonder how couldn´t people see the abusive little brat he was! When I think of him, I feel the sun on my skin, burning with the unbearable heat of summer, and I smell the sea breeze that was often in his hair. He is “wild civility” unveiled when undressed in anonymity.
He swiped the screen, one after the other in search of the right combination. One whose colour matched my own, whose body was beautiful, but not so young and perfect that I´d feel diminished, one who would please us both, who would please me even more eagerly. He showed the item and had me call the agency, and let me negotiate it, the rate per hour, transport, place of service, everything. It was a gift for us both, he said, so we´d both be served: extra pair of hands, or teats, another pussy and ass, lips and legs, all devoted to our fantasies.
The look in his eyes was full on mischief but also of complicity; I was his accomplice, I knew. My pleasure was as important as his own, and we were two slave masters, benign masters, yet looking at the oncoming girl as mere accessory to our pleasure.
We loved that feeling of power, the way we did not have to speak to communicate with each other. His cat´s eyes, mischievous, dangerous, always smiling… my Cheshire Cat.
On moments like these I loved him madly, I wanted to gauge his eyes off, and keep them in a jeweled box, as some holy relic of a trickster God.
When the call girl arrived we were already naked and touching each other. We let her in and she went to the toilet to “get ready”. There was an awkwardness in all that small talk and half flirtatious moves and smiles. It was paid sex on her side, and I am not the kind of person who plays with food. His eyes on me, I asked her to kiss me and there it was, a woman´s tongue in my mouth. Who cares where that woman came from, her name, how she came to her profession, whether she likes it or not? Frankly, I didn´t give a dam.
A sweet kiss, soft, soft lips, soft tongue, even when I pushed her harder, she was soft… as a woman is supposed to be. I wondered if I was as sweet and soft as that. I could barely tolerate it, and pulled him into our kissing. Three tongues entwined, six hands groping each other´s bodies and that felt much more exciting. She wasn´t enough, I needed him: she was his surrogate, a different part of his body for me to play.
I tried her pussy, but it was weird how her anatomy, so equal to mine, did feel strange to my lips. My clit, which seem to grow and harden when touched, at least I have this impression, my little cave that sucks and squeeze and release… Hers were different! Was she faking? I don´t know, but she seemed to have had more pleasure while pleasuring me than while pleasuring my friend dearest. I am a phallocrat. Her disdain for his cock was expedient but also a sin.
We both licked and sucked his cock and it felt good. She touched my breasts and caressed my pussy, playfully, until I sat her down and wrapped my legs with hers, rubbing our clits against each other. I came quickly, he rubbed his cock on our lips, she pinched my breasts…
So hard to remember all that we did! Hands, lips, sex, legs and skin… so much and so intense, that my mind, high with orgasms can´t completely recall.
He fucked me and came inside of me and we had her lick his cum from my pussy, and I came on her mouth time and time again, while my dearest fucked her from behind.
His eyes are of an exquisite shade of hazel. They´re greenish, and shiny, and change colour depending on the angle of light. We have always had this instinct of looking at each other, of communicating with each other with our eyes and smiles. We could have been incestuous brother and sisters. I was a child by his side, and a happily wicked one.