Primal Scream (Box Set #1, Taboo Sex + AFF) (10 page)

Andy wanted to strike them both across the face, which would promptly wipe off the smug, indulgent grin on their faces. Sure, it was always “great” to hear about an office romance that led to a wedding, kids, and a “happily ever after”…except for the co-workers who had to put up with the romance itself, while it was in its initial “passionate” stages.

Happily ever after’s a fantasy. And so is just a single night, wrapped up in...

The rest of the meeting was like a bad movie in slow motion…elastic and spastic, all at once. Nothing made sense, except for the drone of surging pulsations within Andy, surges that came back all the more stronger, the more he tried to curb them. It was almost like there was an animal clawing away at the walls of his gut, to eat him up from the inside.

He was a ghost in a shell, dreading for evening to approach.

He wandered around the street outside his office for a while, after work, walking around to nowhere in particular. Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be couples: holding hands, snuggling up to each other, nose kissing. Love was in the air; life was so unfair.

Andy thought the train he was on might crash. He could feel his cold, sweaty palms on the handle of his laptop bag. It wasn’t going away. He didn’t know what to do. He had to hide it. But running away from things never helped anybody, in the long run.

He dragged his feet back to his condo later in the evening, like one entering a slaughterhouse. He’d die, any way you looked at it. He’d already pieced it all out rationally, on the way home.

A part of him would die, if he never mentioned anything, if Christina never knew of the overwhelming lust that threatened to consume him. It wasn’t derogatory to Andy—quite the contrary, if looking at it just in that aspect. Sure, other girls were available, but there was a special bond with Christina which he didn’t have with any other person on the planet. They’d always been able to confide in each other, and be around for each other, just because. He knew he’d look out for her and always be there for her, even if it ever reached a point where she didn’t deserve it. The point was not whether or not she deserved it, but that he felt obliged out of a sense of respect to her as a person.

Unbridled lust was his untainted response with regards to Christina’s newfound feminine sexuality.

How’d she do a 180? It seemed like it had happened over night. The transition from innocence, to sexual confidence, and she didn’t even need to bare a lot of skin, wear a push-up bra, wear pounds of make-up, or be overtly sexual to get that message across.

Most of him
would
die, if he did mention something, and freaked Christina out good. That would damage what they had as friends and siblings. Did he really want lust to get in the way of something that needed no fixing?

He didn’t think she’d tell everyone she knew about it—if he did “make a move.” She respected him that way. But it wouldn’t be the same. She might never get close to him again. The torture from a comforting hug was better than no hug at all.

Or was it?

And he’d kill himself if he raped her, if only because he “couldn’t stop himself.” He’d consider it a pathetic excuse. But what was one to do, when one was simply following the directions of one’s most important organ?

It didn’t look good even if Christina did, miraculously, reciprocate. Would it be a one-off thing? Or turn into something addictive?

Andy closed his eyes, taking a long deep breath, as he stood in front of his apartment room door.

“
Meiiiii!
”

He jolted to his senses when the neighbor’s kids came running out to head off to the swimming pool. They were a brother and sister, maybe about 3 years apart. They were pretty rough-and-tumble most of the time. They usually referred to each other as “mei” (little sister) and “kor” (older brother). They called Andy “the tall Swiss man.”

The girl and boy gave a wave to Andy; he gave a slow obligatory wave back, noting how close they always seemed to be. In terms of both friendship, as well as physical proximity.

Nuttesohn—the punk son of a bitch!
Andy had seen the brother tackling the sister a few times, on the public corridor space. It was in good humor and not out of violence, of course, or he would have talked some sense into the boy, and/or informed the kids’ grandmother, who was a kind and friendly woman, living with the kids in the same house.

Andy kept looking at the brother and sister, walking off in the other direction, till they turned a corner. The sister had the brother’s head in a light, playful headlock.

Being a kid was so much easier.

Andy wished he could annihilate his lust, and start all over. At the moment, he only saw Christina as a sexual being, which overshadowed knowing her as his friend and sister.

Andy had a wild solution: he wanted to purge and get rid of the temptation, by yielding to it. It came almost as a kind of epiphany. After all, human behavior, like physics, flowed along the path of least resistance.

Andy stepped into his house, leaving the hectic non-stop-activity world that he knew outside, and entering the unknown and unexpected that enveloped his own living space. He’d thought of his own house that way ever since she’d gotten here, which was slightly less than a mere 24 hours ago.

He was in a slight headspin—he thought he was hearing things at first. There was a hypnotic tune in the background, with a powerful thub-thumping drum and bass beat—when he recognized the track from one of his CDs:
Bamboo Banga
by the British rapper, M.I.A. It was an energizing dance/electronica track regularly used on fashion runways around the world, a song both he and Christina enjoyed spacing out to. If they listened to it enough times on repeat, they’d feel so giddy they’d no longer feel a sense of connection to what was going on in the real world.

He found Christina seated in the kitchen. Her soft, blonde hair fell gently over her shoulders. Except for the tip of her nose, her hair covered most of the delicate features of her small, pretty face.

She was languidly sipping on a glass of red wine. Andy thought she’d opened one of his bottles, but realized she had gotten it from one of the duty-free shops at the airport.

The lights were dimmed. Her white hand looked as delicate and fragile as the glass she held. But he wasn’t fooled. Her sexual energy still simmered underneath, all the more strongly, in the warm, inviting glow of the lit room.

Christina was in a thin, short-sleeved top. A nightwear kind of shirt, with some artistic print on the front, which ended about midway down her thighs. Her nipples were hard, and popping out through the thin white fabric—Andy couldn’t help but notice. He couldn’t help but stare, for a couple of moments. He then concentrated on his breathing.

Concentrating on anything, but the image of his cock coming to life in her mouth, inching it slowly down her warm, wet, inviting throat…

She rested a cheekbone on her hands, as her elbows rested on the tabletop. She turned to look at Andy, with a fixed stare, like she was scanning his inner thoughts and soul with her very eyes.

“
Hi…” she said to him, ever so softly, in a slightly husky tone of voice. With a slight tilt of her head, she exposed to him a little more of her bare neck.

Andy took a step forward. He said he’d take her out to wherever she wanted to go, while she was a guest at his place. Was this how she acted nowadays, out in public?

Was she intoxicated? He couldn’t really tell. Her face seemed a little bit reddish, but she didn’t have the unfocused, slightly in-another-world look that characterized the eyes of a staggering drunk.

Andy put his laptop bag on the table, and calmed himself down. He clasped his hands together on the bag’s handle, mouth curving upwards in a slight smile to Christina.

He felt more cleansed that he had been throughout the entire day—enlightened, almost. By facing his temptation straight on, and just accepting it as it was, he felt less of an urge to resist or fight anything.
Path of least resistance was one of the laws of physics, after all.

He silently praised himself. So he was above the masses, after all. This moment was proof. He was not taking advantage of his sister.

She swung both her legs out—Andy looked down at his feet for a moment, thinking she was going to stand up or walk away from the table. Game over.

But she put one leg up on the seat instead, resting one elbow on that leg’s knee, and fixed him down with another stare. A slightly indolent stare, almost.

He noticed she was well-groomed, before noticing she hadn’t been wearing any underwear underneath. He re-focused, snapping his back upright and drawing his shoulders back, rolling his shoulders back once, to ease the tension.

He kept his gaze on Christina’s face. The hypnotic M.I.A. track had been set on repeat. Had the song gotten Christina into a trance? A trance that was working its way into Andy’s mind as well?

Christina leaned back, resting the back of her head on the top of the chair’s backrest. She was teasing him continuously—with the way she talked, the way she moved, the way she used her eyes—luring him in—and he didn’t even know if he’d end up succumbing to her personal charm, and if it’d be this to lure him into a downward spiral of spiritual and physical destruction. Many men throughout history had already met such a fate as a result of a charming female.

One of Christina’s hands lazily slapped up against her stomach. She had a flat tummy and a toned, straight line down the center of her abdomen.

Then she lifted her shirt up, a little, at first. He saw her unpierced naval. Then she lifted it all the way up, flashing Andy her bare breasts. They were full breasts, with a slight natural hang, and they were on full display. They were begging to be touched, played with, worshipped, kissed, caressed. Any dude would worship those huge, soft, hanging, bouncy natural breasts.
They’d hang and shake while on the floor hardcore doggie style—

“
Power, power,”
went the lyrics from the song in the background. It was the slow-building prelude to the hard-pumping section of the track.

Andy brought a hand down onto the tabletop, for some balance. He hadn’t teetered over, but felt the strength in his knees dissipating.

Christina played with her hair, twirling one of the strands and letting it rest on one side of her face, before she started twirling it round her finger again.

“
What’re you doing?” Andy asked as softly as she’d said “hi” earlier. He hadn’t said anything since she’d greeted him.

“
Ha, ha, ha!
” went the rapper in the song. Andy knew Christina liked M.I.A., but was this an effect of the unconventional, offbeat (but upbeat) rapper’s music? If so, that was impressive, but Andy kept his mind on Christina.

He rested his fingers on his temples, then at the spot where his eyebrows almost met, trying to consider what he should or shouldn’t do. He thought it was ironic M.I.A. stood for Missing In Action.

Christina had brought her shirt down again, and was staring at the wall. Andy looked at her closely. She seemed a little far away…but not crazy ass drunk. She just didn’t seem to be.

“
Do you want…something…from me?” Andy asked a little coyly, getting as close to the point as he dared, implicit as it was.

Christina nodded, bobbing her head up and down, with a slightly wandering, hungry look. And she wasn’t headbanging to the drumbeat of the music.

Andy went up close. She could lean in and press herself against his body if she wanted to. Or sit on the table, and position himself in front of her, whereby she could…

She looked at him one more time, then down, as another loop of the song faded out.

“
What do you want?” Andy asked casually, with a touch of the confidence that all smoother talkers were gifted with.

What if she played him on all night long? But he suddenly felt like he really had let go, and was living totally in the moment, though he didn’t know it for sure, right then. All he knew was that he was going to take the moment for whatever it was.

He’d always be there for Christina.
Perhaps she wanted that in more ways than one. Like he did.

He gently ran a hand under Christina’s chin. He tried to search Christina’s eyes for her answer, because she wasn’t saying anything.

She had an open expression too. They were both open with honesty. Andy was open to whatever she wanted to do, with or without him. Christina saw this, saw her step brother was indeed a man of his word, a man who’d stand by her side, for a long, long time.

He reached in, lightly grazing his lips on the side of her face, kissing the tip of her high cheekbone. He’d be satisfied, if an unadulterated kiss of pure, heaven-sent bliss was all he got.