Chapter 5
I miss two days of school because of Bill. I spend the two days in my apartment trying to sort out my flood of emotions. I am sunk in morbid anxieties the whole first day, images of Bill standing over me, forcing me into animal acts perverted beyond all that I have ever known. I see his cock stabbing into my mouth, feel the hard flesh against my tongue, taste again the salty brine of his semen, viscous and sticky, and I see him gloating above me as I wallow at his feet.
The second day I feel better and begin to examine my feelings with a more detached and rational frame of mind. For the first time since the dinner at Sandra's I think of Lilly again also, and I begin to compare Lilly with myself. I think how Lilly might have reacted to the scene with Bill. Certainly she couldn't have been any more eager than I was once I got his cock into my mouth, but the two crucial periods of difference for us would be the time just before the sex act and the time just after. I felt that what happened was dirty and perverted; my whole moral code and my sense of self-worth was deeply offended by what I had done, yet I imagined that Lilly might accept this kind of sexual act as normal and possibly even gratifying. I begin to see the worlds apart Lilly and I live in, and I also begin to understand how relative moral standards are. Then I begin to wonder what kind of moral codes toward sexual behavior other people hold. I realize quickly that I know almost nothing about how people make love, what is normal and what is perverted. I try to imagine my friends back in Topeka, the girls I grew up with, down on their knees with a man's cock in their mouths, sucking his semen out into their waiting throats and surprisingly enough I can actually picture a few of them in such a position, though the ones I can see doing something like that were not my closest friends. I realize also that those girls who might do something like that always caused me a certain amount of envy and jealousy, as if I sensed this possibility in them all the time I knew them only never knew until now what it was. Now I know that 1 envied them because I felt somehow that they would experience things that would be ever closed off to me because of my own strict morals. I remember what Bill said, that I have a good mouth, and I remember one girl in particular back in Kansas, Donna White, who had what was obviously a good mouth, full-lipped and sexily pouting, only before now I never even considered the possibility that her mouth might be used for anything other than kissing.
Still, emotionally at least I was what I was, what I am; after nineteen years of strict codes it won't be easy for me to learn to give in easily to strange sexual experiences, and I hate Bill for forcing me into such ordeals. I have seen other sides of Bill too, though, and I'm beginning to see just how ruthless he really is, like he said, and I admit to myself that I'm attracted by his ruthlessness, and by his sex. And I have to admit that a part of me enjoyed that degrading experience, enjoyed sucking him off. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink, as the saying goes; Bill stuck his cock in my mouth, but I was the one that sucked it and drank his come.
By Thursday morning I felt able to cope with myself and with school and I walked leisurely through the busy streets to dance class and ran into Sandra and Bernie as I entered the building.
"Hi," Sandra said warmly. "Where have you been keeping yourself? I haven't seen you in a couple days."
"I've been thinking," I answer, feeling upset at having to explain things in front of Bernie whom I don't know very well.
We walk into the dressing room together and I want to talk to Sandra suddenly, tell her all that has been on my mind, even confess, perhaps, what took place between Bill and I, though I don't know if I have the courage to tell her or anyone about that. In the dressing room I look curiously at Bernie and notice that her mouth might easily be imagined circling a man's penis. She has the same pout that Donna White had, and her eyes are dark and sultry with an expression of open sexuality. I wonder if Bill has fucked her too, if her lips have been parted by his jabbing cock. I feel a certain amount of jealousy at the thought of Bill and she contorted in love, and I wonder why I don't feel the same jealousy for Sandra whom I know Bill has screwed. Sandra doesn't have those kind of lips, but Bernie definitely does.
As we undress and change I look at Bernie's body. Her breasts are small and sharp like two erect cones, and I think that I have her beaten hollow there. It's her ass that attracts my attention the most, and I imagine that it attracts the attention of most men too. It is perfectly rounded and sticks out behind her in an almost obscene way, the cleavage between her buns apparent even under a skirt. It is an advertisement for sex, and she knows it and knows its effect. All during dance class I watch her movements, and she seems to use that hot ass to the utmost in every step she takes. Bill isn't there this day and I make a mental note to watch him next time to see if he watches Bernie's ass.
After class I ask Sandra if she's seen Bill, in a casual way so as not to show how curious I am as to where he is.
"He said he was going to stay home for a few days and work on the script," she answers.
"When did he say that?"
"Day before yesterday."
"Oh," I say, and despite myself there is a certain disappointment in my voice. Sandra seemingly picks up on it.
"Why don't you go see him?" she suggests.
"Oh, I couldn't do that."
"Huh? Why not?"
I look at her and I don't want to say that I'm afraid, and I don't know what else to say. What I want to say is that I'm scared of what will happen if I go there, what he will force me to do with him. Yet I don't even know what would happen, but I know it will involve sex and I'm scared of sex. Yes, that's it. I'm scared to death of sex.
"Well, he might not want me to come," I say, copping out. I immediately berate myself for being so weak and dishonest but I can't seem to help it.
'If I were a man, baby, I'd want you to come, day or night," Sandra says with a slight edge in her voice, as if she knows I'm lying about why I'm hesitating to visit him. "And both of us know damn well that Bill would like to see you, for more reasons than one."
I feel ashamed of myself for being such a baby and I'm just about to confess my fears when Bernie walks up.
"Where's Bill, Sandra? I want to talk to him and I can't find him anywhere," Bernie says.
"I haven't seen him lately either," Sandra says, telling half the truth but not all she knows, not telling Bernie where he is.
I look at Sandra curiously. She's in effect lying to one of her best friends, and I know she's lying because of me.
"Oh, well, let's go get something to eat," Bernie says to Sandra with a frown as if she's momentarily tired of looking for Bill, as if it doesn't matter that much to her whether she finds him or not.
"Good idea," Sandra says, then she looks at me. "I wouldn't wait too long if I were you. She who hesitates loses."
I watch the two of them walk off, watch Bernie's ass bouncing sexily behind her, pushing her away from me, and I hear Sandra's warning ringing through my head like a gong has been struck inside my skull. I've been hesitating for nineteen years and I've gained nothing by it; I've felt and learned more about myself in the last two weeks than I have in my entire life before, it seems. I think of Bernie; she wouldn't hesitate, not for one second, I know. And she would damn well enjoy whatever happened to the fullest.
Then I'm out in the streets walking toward Bill's apartment without having even made the decision to go see him, walking as if something inside me is compelling me toward him, something in my belly and my cunt, not in my head, something in my womanhood. I feel as if I've come awake after a long sleep, risen out of a nightmare of fear into a morning of possibility. Only as I get closer to his apartment the fear creeps back into my mind and I hesitate at the last moment before ringing his bell, my mind in a turmoil of confusion and doubt.
The thing that has driven me this far won't give up so easily, though, and my finger presses the bell and in a matter of seconds the buzzer sounds and I push open the door and walk up the stairs and knock at his apartment door. I hear music coming from inside and I wonder if he'll be alone. I know that if Sandra hadn't lied Bernie would already be there with him.
The door opens and Bill looks at me as if he's expecting me, motions me in without saying a word and closes the door behind him. He walks past me and sits down in the middle of the floor and opens his copy of the play to where he's been reading. He's wearing only pants, his muscular chest bare and his long arms loose at his sides as he bends over the script. I feel a catch in my belly as I look at him and my eyes drop uncontrollably to his crotch, to the ever present bulge in his pants. He sits like a rock in the middle of the room ignoring me. I go sit on the couch and look out the window at the street below, staring at the people and feeling embarrassed and almost hysterical at being there, at coming unasked for something that I'm desperately afraid of yet desperately desire. A half hour passes without so much as a look or a word from him and I calm down, slowly gain control of my racing pulse, and I begin to get curious about what he's thinking but I'm afraid to ask him anything. Finally I clear my throat and speak.
"Are you reading the script?"
He looks up at me but doesn't answer. It's as if he's looking at a tree and is mildly surprised to find that it talks. The look in his eyes is neither friendly nor hostile, merely removed, distant.
I try again.
"Can I read with you?"
"You can get undressed," he says.
"I asked if I could read with you," I counter with my voice shaking with apprehension.
He looks at me coldly and stares me down with little effort. I'm too scared and nervous to take him on and he knows it.
"Get undressed," he says again, only this time he continues to stare at me until I stand up and slowly obey his command like some puppet to which he holds the strings, hating myself for doing it yet flushing with excitement as I strip my clothes from my body.
To add excitement I watch his crotch as I throw my clothes off, and as I let my bra fall and bend to pull my panties down I feel a pulsing in my pussy that makes me blush.
"Stand up straight so I can look at you," he orders, and I stand erect and see my breasts lift and jut out provocatively. I feel more naked than I ever have before and turn red under his eyes. My tits contract and harden as his eyes fondle them and I watch as his gaze drops to my cunt.
"Spread your legs some, I want to see your I hesitate, the blood pounding through me like water through a fire hose, then I spread my legs and feel his eyes wash into my slit. He stares at me for a long time then motions me to come to him. With rubber legs I walk over to where he sits, stopping about three feet away, my cunt at his eye level, my thighs quivering.
He reaches out with both hands and grabs around me and I feel his fingers digging into my buns and he pulls me closer to him, so close that I can feel his breath on my belly. He takes his hands from my ass and spreads my thighs apart, forcing my feet wide apart, and with a careful motion he leans forward and puts his mouth to my open cunt, and I feel his tongue wet against my pubic hair and feel it slip wet into my raw crack and wash back and forward. He finds my clitoris and licks playfully at it, around it, and I feel it come erect and feel a spasm of pure burning in my pussy and for the first time I know what it is to want a man inside me, screwing the hell out of me.
He pulls his head back and grins up at me.
"You like that, don't you?" he asks, almost mocking me.
"Yes," I whisper, my voice catching.
Then he puts his hand between my legs and I feel him spreading the lips of my pussy and feel a finger poking into my secret hole, wiggling deeper and deeper up into my vagina, poking and pushing inside my flesh, and my legs go limp and I put my hands on his head to brace myself, to keep from falling in my excruciating pleasure. My eyes close and my hips begin a slow dance of love balanced on his finger; my ass pushes back and forth and I realize that I'm fucking him, fucking his finger, and the thought of it terrifies me but I can't stop. My body is in control of me now and my body says yes, a hundred times yes, while my mind screams no, it can't be me doing this! Then my mind is down in my body and I become all sensation, a voracious cunt opening to whatever he's willing to stuff up me.
He stands up and drops his pants and I see his cock spring out stiff and beautiful and I don't need coaxing this time; I'm on my knees before he even has time to order me down and my hands are around him and my mouth is pressed over the bulging tip of his penis and I'm slobbering up and down his pulsing stem like a bitch in heat, like a whore, a nympho, a slut. I squeeze his balls in my fingers and feel my cunt drip with excitement, with need and desire.
I can stand it no longer. I squeeze his cock tight between my fingers and beg him to put it inside me. He grins down at me lewdly, his eyes full of power and lust.
"Get on your hands and knees. I want you like a dog."
Helpless in my heat I obey, crouch down on my hands and knees on the floor, my ass sticking lewdly out behind me, watch while he circles behind me; he sniffs at my cunt, pressing his nose into the pubic hair from behind, fingers my slit and fondles my ass, then he takes his penis in his hand and places the tip at my hole and pushes deep into my vagina. I scream at the pain and at the excruciating pleasure that follows, and as he bangs into me and out and back in I moan and thrust my ass into his loins, feeling his fullness and his power separate my body and dig at my dept and reaming into me like a pile driver. And, Lord, oh, God, it feels so sweet, even the pain! His thrusts grow stronger and faster and a new sensation builds in me, a terrible pressure fills my body and my muscles tighten and strain against it, against him, and my blood rushes to my head and my cunt and the room and the floor spins before me. He has his hands around my hips now, holding me up, holding my ass high, so he can batter me down. He is deeper now than anything has ever been, deeper than anything could ever be, and I feel the pressure boiling inside me and I scream as it centers in my cunt and bursts, and I cry and moan and thrust in my ecstasy, in the terror and joyous agony of my first real orgasm, and I feel him ripping into me and coming too in an ecstasy that equals my own, and everywhere he touches me is alive and electric as if all my nerve endings are on fire.
Then he lets go of my hips and I drop to the floor panting.