Chapter Thirty-Three Understanding Aesthetics 4 страница

I could feel her laying and waiting next to me, her smooth skin visible out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to hurry up, to get this over with so I could enjoy the rest of the night. I had never used a condom before, and I really hoped she didn’t pick up on that. It was so awkward, placing it over myself; it was lubricated, and smelled really funny. I had no idea how Gerard had been able to do this when we had had sex, and do it relatively quickly. Finally, the fucking thing worked and I was able to roll it over my still hard cock, though I knew I was fading by the second.

When I turned around and looked at Jasmine, I nearly did a double take. She was fucking gorgeous. I remembered Gerard’s words about how the woman’s body was a work of art and holy hell, he was right. I had seen Vivian before, but she was older than me and that had only been for a few seconds that I had not been prepared for. I wasn’t really all that prepared for Jasmine either, but I had way more than a few seconds to gawk. I needed every last second.

Her body was small and subtle, everything fitting into the right places. She was laying down and waiting, propped up a bit on her elbows. Her legs were twisted together a bit, curling and uncurling her toes as she waited impatiently. I couldn’t help myself as I looked closely at the parts I had never seen before. Her breasts looked relatively the same, but I noted the slightly darker pubic hair, not as soft as the hair on her head, but definitely not as coarse as the hair on my own body. She looked even more fragile when she was naked, but she definitely didn’t look weak or small. She seemed to glow under the amber light, her pale and soft skin becoming an iridescent glow. Her blonde hair shined under the light, only a little messy from the fooling around we had done previously.

She smiled at me but when she noticed how long I was staring; she started to turn away, blushing infiltrating her already red face. Getting some composure back, I tried to maneuver my way onto her body, thoughts plaguing me. I honestly didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I had an urge when I first approached, to lift her legs and put them over my shoulders because that’s what I had to do with Gerard occasionally, but I had to remind myself that it was the wrong hole. I had to put it in the first one, and as trivial as that advice sounded, I needed it just then.

“You ready?” I asked, as I climbed on top of her for what felt like the fiftieth time that night, but each time never becoming any easier. I supported myself high above her on my open palms so I didn’t just jam it in right away. I could feel heat radiating around my cock from her entrance and thighs and I had to close my eyes, rolling them back in my head.

“Yes,” she insisted, just wanting me to get it over with.

She rubbed her hands along my bare sides, finishing at the small of my back and pushing me forward, giving the first step into our act. I tried to hesitate for another moment, realizing that I had forgotten lube, but when my head hit the tip of her entrance and I felt something wet surround me, I forgot about my first notion. I had remembered hearing in health class about this sensation, but I had never thought about it, let alone how it would feel. I began to slide into her with little difficulties at first, feeling this warm feeling surround me, causing my jaw to slack open. I was only in a little bit, going past the ridges when I felt some form of resistance. It wasn’t much, and I was able to push past it and get all the way inside of her, but I still had to ask if she was okay again. First penetration was always the most difficult – and I knew that rule applied for gay or straight sex.

“I’m fine, Frank,” she insisted, her voice not as austere as before. She was clinging to my back, her arms wrapped around and meeting at the nape of my neck. Her eyes were closed, and breathing heavy. “Just keep going.”

Following her request, I continued to go in, hearing her moan as I hit something inside of her. A voice in my head started to congratulate me for hitting her prostate, but I reminded myself yet again that this was not Gerard I was fucking. Or a guy of any kind. This was Jasmine, and the things I had learned about sex from Gerard were useless. I had to put him out of my mind entirely, and just go for it. I needed to stop comparing and trying to draw upon his lessons, because they didn’t work here. They didn’t work in the real world, or this world at the cottage.

Once I was to get that notion free inside my head, I began to thrust in and out of Jasmine slowly, becoming completely engulfed by the feeling of her.

We didn’t last as long as I usually did, partly because the environment was extra sensitive to me, making me want more and more of it really quickly. I still tried to go as slow as I could, not wanting to hurt Jasmine and letting her have just as much fun as I was having, though I was unsure of how to ensure that fun. She had no prostate for me to hit, and no cock for me to jerk off. My arms remained propping me up so I didn’t just slam into her, while my lips kissed her face and neck. She moaned and panted a few times when I hit something inside of her, but nothing as loud as I was. I caught her laughing at me as I groaned particularly loud, surprised by how vocal I was during sex. I merely kissed her to stop her teasing, angling my body inside of her to hit a particular spot, my attempt to make her more vocal proving to work significantly well. She had a lot more sensitive areas in her body than I was used to, and I felt extra productive and proud each time I located one. I kept wanting to do it over and over again, just to see the look of ecstasy on her face.

At one point, she reached her hand down in between our bodies and started to touch herself. It confused me at first, considering I was getting plenty of moans from my thrusts inside of her, but I followed her lead, figuring it was something I was supposed to do and was part of normal straight sex. She seemed surprised when my hand followed hers, but she didn’t push me away. She positioned me, with her hand over my own to guide me at first, as I began to rub something. She took her hand away from the one guiding the motion and let me continue it on my own, her head lolling back as I did. The position was slightly uncomfortable when I touched her like that, but I figured it was worth it if it made her happy.

She was clenching around me a lot at that point, breathing pretty hard, too, and it wasn’t long before I had to stop touching her and brace myself for my orgasm. I felt bad leaving her alone for my own pleasure, but there wasn’t much coherent thought in my head. I managed to place a small kiss to her as I came in one final thrust. I rode out my orgasm, breathing heavily for a prolonged moment after, resting my head on her chest. It took me a while to realize that she had stopped all of her movement, too, other than her hands pressing into my back every so often.

“Are you okay? Did you come?” I diverted my attention back to her, looking up from her chest and not realizing how blunt the statement was. I was completely unable to tell if it was true, though, considering she was constantly already wet and didn’t have the sexual organs I was used to working with.

Instead of being repulsed or disgusted by my question, her face sort of lit up with a twist of surprise, and she started to smile sheepishly.

“Yeah, I finished a while ago,” she answered, her cheeks a bit red from the whole exertion. I stared at her for a bit, not quite comprehending that she had already climaxed. I couldn’t really remember any times where she had acted differently to indicate that, and there was certainly no evidence from it. I just tried to nod my head, and not worry over little occurrences like that. It was over now, and things could go back to normal.

In the next few moments, we untwined ourselves from each other and began to get dressed again. My thoughts were calmer than I had thought they would be, considering the circumstances. Instead of the frantic wonderings from before, I was at peace; at ease. It wasn’t just from the orgasm, either. There was a different center of peace inside me, quelling my nerves and rushing around me more than the endorphins ever could.

I had had sex. Proper straight sex that I thought I never would have. It had felt good, too. Really good.

The air in the room was different, or at least I thought it was. There was a tranquil, understanding environment. It was silent around us – a silent that was completely natural. There were no noises other than the shuffling of clothing, and light breathing fluttering out of our mouths. Things were not as tense as they were before, the act finally done and over with. We had admitted that we both liked each other, and finally done something about it, instead of just playing it off by chance. Looking back, I realized there was no such thing as chance or coincidence with us. We had both been dancing around a slight attraction for the other person, but didn’t want to admit it for feeble reasons (on my part, at least – I had no real idea why Jasmine was so hesitant to admit anything before, especially when her smile apparently gave it all away to begin with). Though we had admitted we liked each other, we were just friends even after this act. We had agreed to that at the beginning, though using different words and different people’s stories. Jasmine may not have known all the details of Gerard and Vivian’s relationship together, and even I may have not fully understood it, but we were both going to try, starting with each other. It seemed like the perfect arrangement; like everything was working out for once.

I still had my head in the clouds from my orgasm, slipping my boxers on over my hips, while Jasmine was almost fully clothed again. I found it odd how she could have been so calm and docile during the prep period for sex, walking around in just her bra and shirtless, but after the act was done, she was covering herself up quickly all over again. I merely tossed on my boxers, figuring she wouldn’t want to look at me after the fact, but I intended on keeping my shirt off, especially if we stayed down in the cellar for the night. I somewhat wanted to just sleep with her again, like we had the night before on the trampoline, only not wearing as much clothing. And definitely with a lot less tension.

“Frank?” Jasmine’s voice cut through the air suddenly, curious tone clearly present.

“Mmm?” I asked, scooting myself over to where she sat, tugging her tank top over her head. I helped her straighten out the back folds and wrinkles as I waited for her to talk. She smiled at me and thanked me quietly for the aid, her brows knitting. It was a peculiar look; something I had never seen before in Jasmine.

“What’s up?” I asked, wanting to know what was bugging her, but still feeling tranquil about everything.

“How many people have you had sex with?” she spat out right away. She gave me a look, not an accusing one; just curious and skeptical. I pursed my lips together briefly, feeling my heart stop for a second. I knew she couldn’t have known about Gerard, but she was getting at something I didn’t know if I wanted to hear.

“One,” I answered, swallowing hard after and praying that she wouldn’t make me elaborate. The sudden cold in the basement took advantage of me, constricting my exposed skin all the way up to my neck, and I wished for my shirt. Jasmine didn’t make me elaborate, but what she did do was almost as bad. Her smile raised a little, shaking her head with small, barely noticeable breathy laughter.

“What?” I questioned feeling my masculinity threatened. I bit my lip, my confidence from before draining a bit. “Was I really that bad?”

“No,” she answered almost instantly, the sincerity in her voice unmistakably evident. She looked at me, placing a hand on my cheek and brought our lips together quickly, showing her serious nature. I smiled into the kiss, thankful that I had not been the worse lay of her life.

“What was so funny then?” I asked moments later, our faces still close together, her hand still on my cheek.

She sighed again, rolling her eyes. “This is going to sound stupid, but…” She paused, took her hand off my face, and started to squirm with it in the center of her lap, her eyes focused there. “I think you were probably one of the nicest people I’ve had sex with.”

“Really?” I was completely shocked, though I wasn’t sure what she meant exactly.

“Yeah, like, you kept asking me if I was okay. You were so gentle and kind and it wasn’t just about you. You stopped a few times just to ask if I was okay, and if there was anything you could do for me. It surprised me – not because I don’t think you’re a nice guy now, because I do, but it’s just…” She trailed off for a second, not because she didn’t know what to say – I could almost hear the words on the tip of her tongue before they finally reached there. She didn’t want to say them, but the reasoning behind it was lost on me.

“Sex changes people,” she stated hollowly, her hands starting to turn a rose shade of pink from fidgeting so hard. I reached forward and grabbed her hand, nodding solemnly.

I knew that sex changed people – I had changed a lot since Gerard and I had started a physical relationship. I was a lot more at ease with my body, and there was more security between us – as well as a sense of urgency. He had seen me naked, he had taken so much from me, and I was still giving so much to him. We were so intense, the smallest thing could break us, and the smallest thing could keep us together. I knew sex changed people, but in my case, I really hoped it was for the better. I couldn’t tell for Jasmine; all I could do was take her hand.

She stopped fidgeting once I gripped her, and she brought her eyes to me. She brushed away her emotions from before, blowing her sigh out of her bottom lip upward, flipping her bangs across her face.

“With my other boyfriends,” she started speaking slowly, finding it hard to keep eye contact, “it was always about them. They were nice guys on the surface, but when they got their dick in something, it was kind of hard to control them.” She scrunched up her face, almost comically. Her voice before hadn’t been somber by any means, but the face gesture seemed entirely out of place. We were having a serious discussion, but Jasmine hated serious things. She had experienced enough of them in her life, and didn’t want to dwell too much. If she had an ice cream with her, I was pretty sure she would have shoved it in my face, if only to break the intense gaze I held on her.

“You were really different,” she concluded, her eyes meeting mine with a smile, then glancing down again. “This is weird, I’m well aware, but no one has ever asked me if I came before. I dated my first boyfriend for a year. We had sex countless amounts of times, and never once did he ask me that. It just never seemed important.”

When she gazed at me this time, it was a little longer than a standard blink. I knew she wanted me to say something, but I was at a loss for words. I squeezed her hand instead.

“I don’t know, but it was really nice.” She shrugged her shoulders, getting rid of the topic.

“It was no problem, really,” I said, gathering up the only other words I could think of.

A lot of what she was saying was really disturbing me. I knew sex changed people, and I could understand how a guy could be so preoccupied with himself (and his dick) during sex that he forgot about the girl – I had done it a few times that night – but didn’t you remember eventually? Wasn’t it just as important for both partners to climax? It would get dull if it was consistently about one person. I knew the pleasure in diversity and change, and most of all, giving during sex. Didn’t everyone do those type of things during sex? Especially if you cared abut someone, wasn’t it common knowledge?

Apparently not.

“And you’ve only had sex with one girl!” she added at the end, trying to bypass the serious aura in the room. Unknowingly, she made me cringe internally at her slight mistake in the remark.

“Whoever you had,” she started again, still off on her tangent. “I want to thank them, because they taught you very well.”

She leaned in to hug me, and placed a chaste kiss on my lips, before she wandered away to get some more blankets to keep us warm while we slept down here.

Those brief seconds she left me alone felt like hours. My mind and body reeled, and I could hear nothing but her words inside my head. They taught you well. She had no idea who this person was, and she was congratulating them, wanting to thank them. They had taught me well. Gerard had taught me well. Hearing those words, though indirectly, come out of her mouth, made me stop right there in the middle of the world I was in. And this world that I was in at that very moment was still the same one at Gerard’s apartment. There was no distinction. They were not two different societies. There was barely one; there were so many holes and shadows and corners to hide in. I had thought that Gerard was the minority, something unreal and unattainable, as well as Jasmine; something I should ignore and not contemplate much further. I thought Sam and Travis and all the other dickweeds that I had to deal with were the constant factor in everything; the things that I could not change, because that was how everything was supposed to be. But I had been wrong. Dreadfully wrong. My friends were just asses infecting the same world and screwing it up for everyone else. Screwing it up for me. They had taken me away from my niche and let me loose in a new place with new faces. That was all that had changed. The rules and lessons still remained the same. Just because some people didn’t play by them didn’t mean we all were fucked. Just because some people were dicks and trying to hold power over me, didn’t mean that the ones who were nice suddenly were void. They still mattered; they still counted.

I looked over at Jasmine. She had brought back the blankets and was now working them over our legs and getting us ready to go to sleep in this cold basement. She had listened to me talk about art culture and other things that Gerard had taught me. He had taught me so well that I was able to convey something to another person; I was able to teach someone else, too. His lessons had not been futile, they had been necessary. He may not have taught me everything I needed to know just yet, but he wasn’t done. I hadn’t given him a chance to finish. I wasn’t ready to fly and I knew that. But I had tried anyway on that trampoline, with Jasmine, and I skipped ahead with the lessons he was trying to teach me. I wasn’t patient enough, thinking I was living in a different parallel, when I was still trapped in the same maze. The rules still applied, and I had broken the biggest one there was.

I had cheated on Gerard. And as Jasmine and I laid ourselves down to sleep that night, I cheated on him again. I kissed her and touched her all over like before, until we ended up in the same position we had been only hours previous. I had still been gentle and kind, using what he had taught me, but I was still breaking the rules. It seemed like once I broke the rules in the first place, there was no limit anymore. I could keep going and going and it wouldn’t matter. I had already screwed up, I might as well make it worth while. Artists wanted everything, and that included the bad things in life; the things they knew they shouldn’t do. I knew I shouldn’t have done this, but instead of covering up my mistake, I repeated it. I needed to remember the pain I felt, because I couldn’t forget this, no matter how hard I tried.

There were a lot of things I didn’t realize until I hit the ground. I may have thought I was trying to be ready, trying to fly on my own, but when my wings were too weak to support a body smaller inside them, and I though I had nothing to lose, there was only so much falling I could do. Now that I was on the ground, with her by my side, I realized how high I had been to begin with.