Yesterday, the room.

Yesterday, the room.

The room’s door was closed by a drape that didn’t come all the way down. I wont say that I was there by mistake or that I was looking for something else… I was there looking for something morbid. I have always thought that I wasn’t born an innocent.

I opened the drapes a little and looked inside. There they were, two women. One of them, the youngest, was sitting at the edge of the bed. She was holding the other’s head on her legs. They were both naked… And the room smelled like sex, that sensation that you can smell with your legs, with the palpitation inside your chest that makes it difficult to breath.

The eldest had nearly her entire body length across the bed. She was looking straight up with a glassy sight. Her knees bent at the edge… at the end of the bed. The youngest stroke the hear of the other… describing little lines across her temples and behind the frontal part of her head. Like you would caress a child.

The youngest looked at me and said nothing… This was the specialty of the house… Exotic moments that looked spontaneous. It became increasingly necessary to fulfill some vices one picks up due to being alone for so long.

On the bed the lonely nakedness of the woman made itself visible throw rhythmic and slow movement. Undulating, lascivious, lost in the temperature of the ambiance…

I graved a chair and sat down.

From a far I studied the youngest body. Her hear was neatly combed and slightly curled. This communicated something that was beyond male comprehension… communicated the pleasure of sensible communication… physical communication… I don’t remember her features well (or could it be possible that I didn’t care to really look at that moment?… Sex for men enters throw the penis not the mind) But am inclined to say that her features were known to me somehow. I mean, features that you would expect on the face of one of this women… women on these “date houses”

The other one held a hand over her right breast, this covered maliciously the left nipple. Both were engorged and stiff… or would this perception of mine be something more than intuition on my part… a longing perhaps? The right hand disappeared and re appeared playing with her left leg.

I assumed that the masturbation had begun just a few moments before, because of the calmness of it… it hasn’t begun to be violent. It was nothing more that a caress of initiation. I would have bet my entire salary that the clitoris had yet to start pulsating.

The skin of the youngest had a brown color, copper, alive and smooth. Her nipples were of a darker color, almost black… The areola pushed forward by the trust of weight behind it.

A dirty cold passed behind my neck… it was the wind that came from the drape. My skin was telling me something… The hypersensitivity of the flux of blood… Everything got alert…

The atmosphere got damped… The woman who was sitting down started to transpire shyly. The hand covering the nipple of the one lying on the bed retracted. With evil hands the youngest caressed the naked breast of the other…

As for me I felt a premonitory itch, old friend that sent the call. Now the smell of the room could have been scratched with a spoon. I would have like it if I was on the other side… but it was too late to move the chair, and standing up would have been painful. One does not fight the erection, the erection calls and would eventually stop calling.

The youngest tilted her head. Not because of the sudden realization of nakedness in front of a stranger, but to look straight into the others eyes.

The other, straighten her right arm to make her entire palm go deep inside her legs. Her legs caressed each other one after the other. The movement made, at intervals, a small and lacteous foot appear behind the edge of the bed.

I couldn’t do more than imagine how her index finger would appear and disappear covered on a glossy substance. Or she would, possibly, hold her clitoris in between her fingers. Her flesh, right now, must have been pulsating. In a red-purple color. I have seen her… throw my minds eye… parting the labia between her index and ring fingers… A transparent droplet emerged from a hidden place, the contribution of the male…

Could I touch them? This idea passed over my mind, but I could not beat up the urge if I would have actually tried it.

The youngest moved her hand over the others body. Slowly, with that slow struck that only women know and makes men grow desperate. She passed her finger tips weakly over the others belly, staring deadly into her eyes. What was she doing? Was this part of the game? Who would win if this was so?

The clothing became more and more uncomfortable over my skin. Mi breathing had turned so impetuous that now it escaped my lungs with difficulty. It almost sounded like a cut but discrete moan.

A loud but distant sound of pleasure escaped her mouth… this made her turn her face. I had seen her face, lying down on the bed, for a few moments and delighted myself on the look of pain… In any case, this was not real pain. Her cheeks blushed and the color got deeper… then the first spasm had come… and with the second she got into the rhythm of it. With each twitch the pleasure became more selfish. She held her hand still after the violence of the orgasm stopped.

The youngest kept her breathing normal, while the other one seem to increase. It could be said that she wanted to catch her last breath or keep the last impulse of pleasure.

They both got up and with out looking at me walked out of the room. I sat still for a moment… with no will to move.

In a few minutes, the scandal in my pants subsided. Subsided enough to let me stand up. I walked to the bed where that woman had been lying and noticed a small dark, but Trans lucid spot. I looked at it. With the most care I picked up a sample (for sure, I thought, the rest had permeated throw the bed sheets) and I tasted it.

Salty.

My legs were still trembling when I got out of that house. I don’t remember exactly how I got home.