Opus

8. Recess

I stare at the ceiling as Bree goes down on me. After days of incessant whining (on her part, do I have to specify?), I finally caved in. I'm not attracted to women in general, but a mouth is a mouth. I wonder how Jasper's mouth would feel. Don't go there. The fourth set ended days ago, but he has not shown up 'on the other side' as promised. Hence, the whole idea here is to wipe the jerk's touch off of me.

I lay on my bed, legs slightly opened−or not offered per se, but... willing? Hum. Too strong a word. Agreeable? Indeed. Exposed? Definitely. Amenable? Not so much. Excited? Only marginally. And bored, somewhat. I sigh at the realization. Bree takes it as a moan of pleasure and munches on.

The flicks of her pink tongue send teeny tremors to my sex and help me focus. As if my lack of lust allows me to escape my body. Twisted, right?

"You like that?"

Even now, all lusty and soulful, Bree's voice triggers images of Betty Boop in my mind. Bree's a willowy Betty Boop on helium.

My predicament is quite ironic considering everyone who knows me would tell you I tend to overthink everything to death. Thank fuck nobody knows me well these days. I've learned long ago that I get my best ideas when I don't think about anything. Like now. Agreeable, exposed, marginally excited and somewhat bored, I concentrate one hundred percent on the ceiling. Thus, one can't say I'm entirely counterproductive here. Such is my life outside the competition.

"Your skin is sooo soft."

I roll my eyes at her, but Bree doesn't notice. Hence we go on, my eyes glued to the plaster above, Bree's sweet pouty kisser glued to my labia, eating away. She makes those silly noises as if she's licking some delish ice cream or had been starving for days.

"You taste sooo good."

I don't get it.

Granted, I've never tasted another woman's cream. I've tasted mine on some guy's lips, and yes, I'll admit it can be sexy, but to lick it off directly at the source, so to speak? I'm thinking yuk. Way too intimate.

How did I get here?

Rule 8: The prizes include a ten-unit credit from the City, a full refund of expenses (receipts required) and a plaque (model and colour of the winner's choosing, subject to availability) with the winner's name, said plaque to be affixed on the Competition's Wall of Fame.

Both a hunter's daughter and a king's daughter's daughter, there are worse things in life. More wealthy than rich, nor spoiled nor denied, I had adequate parental figures. Not too lenient, not too strict, the court left me to my own devices as long as I didn't burn down the castle−I only came close the one time, people, get over it already! To this day, I don't understand why I didn't get an honourable discharge. My ingenuity alone should have been commended. Do you have any idea of how difficult it is to set dank, centuries-old, stonewalled donjons on fire? I almost achieved the impossible that day.

"You taste royally divine." Bree chuckles at her jest even though she laces every other sentence with the royal adjective or its synonyms.

How the fuck did I end up here, in this dump, on this day, hours from another set, a woman's head between my legs? Destiny they call it. They are full of shit. I blame Kendrick. I blame wee. Mostly, I blame myself. Couldn't I leave well enough alone like a normal human being would have? Nooo. Growing up in a castle nestled in an endless forest screwed with my perspective. I want to one up my ancestors. They're dead! Ken's dead!

"So, so good, Silk."

My gaze falls back to Bree. I can't see her face now hidden by her hair. Leaning on her forearms and knees, ass in the air, she's intent on her task. I realize how rough the fabric of her pants is against my leg. How uncomfortably wet I am from her saliva. How unpleasantly small her left hand feels on my knee. Her tush wiggles in my line of sight drawing my attention. Her right hand is busy stroking between her thighs. Good. About time she gets done.

From then on, her suckling intensifies. Before long she's moaning and slurping open-mouthed. She comes as she talks. Shrilly.

"Did you like it? I want to make you come again."

She can't make me climax again since I haven't climaxed yet. That girl is clueless. "No thanks."

"But I want to."

I can't stand whimpering. Me jumping out of bed shuts her up effectively. She turns around and sits on the edge of the mattress, watching me with her flush cheeks and moist lips. Did I mention she's naked? Of course she is. She thinks I'll follow suit at some point. It has not happened once nor will it. Mouth on sex? Tolerable. Female soft bare curves against female smooth bare skin? No fucking way. Like I've said. Yuk. She caresses her breast, pinching her nipple, and smiles at me. As if that's going to excite me more than her mouth on my labia.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Can I join you?"

I snap the door shut in her face. Must we go through the same shit every damn time?