Ofelia Ch. 01 Pt. 09-11

Paul invited Ofelia over one other afternoon when his family was away. They kissed and played on his bed, and eventually Paul had his penis out and was begging Ofelia to do something with it. It was long and uncircumcised, and Ofelia was fascinated by it, especially when she took it in her hand and made the pink swollen tip come out. Paul asked her if she had ever seen a boy's sperm come out. In fact she had, she told him. But she didn't tell him that it was Manuel whom she had seen ejaculate. She had helped Manuel to ejaculate many times. Some girls found the whole thing disgusting, but to Ofelia it was nothing if not beautiful and exciting. But when Paul ejaculated it was different than Manuel. The sperm wasn't perfectly white like Manuel's, and it only dribbled out over her hand onto Paul's abdomen, whereas with her brother the stuff was white like coconut milk, but thick; and it sprayed out in a way that reminded Ofelia of shoelaces. Long white strings of it: clean and brand new, forcefully squirting, making squiggly shapes like question marks in the air. Ofelia found nothing revolting or sickening about it.

As she thought of her times with Paul, she realized that there was never a point at which she truly desired him. He was very handsome, had a muscular physique, and was known to be with many girls, and he was a good kisser. But what she had with him was not much different than what she had with Manuel: it was physical, it was fun, even exciting; and when they were kissing it was sometimes fiery and passionate, but it was what it was: exciting, thrilling, fun, play. She knew that she was never tempted to let him take her virginity. She thought it might be nice, certainly, but she was never truly tempted.

There were several other men with whom Ofelia had experienced similar things. There was an older cousin's husband, not a blood relation. There were four or five first and second cousins. There were other guys at the mill, and from other places: young men she had met at dances, or when she was out shopping. Altogether Ofelia reckoned there must have been two dozen or so men, just in the past year alone, with whom she had had some kind of sexual play. If she counted from when she was around thirteen, which was the first time she kissed a boy (her cousin, Miguel), there were too many to count. Probably well over a hundred.

With Daniel, suddenly things were different. Ofelia searched her soul and had to face one unsettling fact: if Daniel had enough time with her alone, he would almost certainly be able to make love to her. She knew it in her bones, that he was already well on his way to stealing the prize that she had put aside for her fiance. When she was absolutely honest with herself, she accepted the fact, the very brute fact, that she wanted Daniel inside her. She had never felt that before, not with anyone. Of course, she thought it would be exciting to try it with this boy or that man; but she was always safe and secure in the knowledge that she could go on denying this or that man the object of his desire, and go on denying it indefinitely.

With Daniel, however, Ofelia knew deep down that she would not be able to deny him the object of his desire, given enough time. She wanted him to try, to try harder. She would try to be the devoted fiance, of course, but a girl could only take so much. He said the right things, in the right way. He withdrew like a man, not like a frustrated boy, when he was told to stop. When he kissed her it was when he knew she was eagerly waiting for it, not when his explosive hormones told him to go for the lips hoping for some tongue. When he touched her breasts, he did it as one who deserved it, not as one who was being granted a favor. When he had his hand on her backside, it was because it belonged there.

What Beatriz, God bless her, didn't know was that when Daniel gave her those little pats on her rear-end, it was not just some perversion which he thought he could get away with because of his position of authority. He didn't do that with other girls at the mill. Daniel did it with Ofelia and with Ofelia alone, and he did it with the confidence and self-assurance of a man who runs his hand over the hood of an expensive automobile which he knows his hard work has earned him. Ofelia was his, and he knew it. She was a thing of rare and precious beauty, and she belonged to him, and he knew it, as surely as he knew the ground was under his feet and the sky was over his head. Ofelia knew this to be true, and yet it was this very truth which she feared the most. If she let herself fall in love with him, and he with her, what would become of it?

If she went out him again, which she most certainly would (and she heard the phrase "going out" in her mind and she knew that --

Yes I went Out with Daniel on a Date Yes it was a Date I went Out with him on a Date a Date with Daniel --

there was every chance that she would betray her promise to herself and to Leonard, and that this would make her world come crashing down. When she thought about it she heard the sound of a thousand tiny glass figurines falling off their shelves and breaking into a million pieces, scattering like buckshot across the smooth tiles in one of those fancy curio shops she had visited in once in Monterey.

What if Daniel took Ofelia away from Leonard (who never possessed her in the first place) and married her, became the father of her babies, her loving husband? Ofelia knew herself too well. She knew that such a turn of events would be in all practicality a wonderful thing; but the sick and twisted side of her rebelled strongly against it. Yes, it was sick and twisted. It was perverse and crude and pathetic, but it was there and it was real. A part of Ofelia wanted to be Daniel's love, his wife, his carina; but another part of her wanted to be his hina, his whore, his cunt. She rolled that ugly word off her tongue several times in the growing darkness of her room:

--cunt, cunt, Cunt, cunnnt, Kunt, su kuntt, suu CUNT, Daniel, Your cunt --

Ofelia turned onto her back and wished Manuel would come blustering into the room and start fiddling with her, just to take her mind off of those things and to make those horrible beautiful sounds go away. Maybe she would just make the young man's day and let him lay down so he could watch her take his cock in her mouth. Let him be the very first to feel her tongue dancing at the pink tip of his cock, her lips kissing it and opening up around it and sliding up and down like those trashy gringas and cholas he milked himself off to. She would be able to do that. Yes she would. Not only able but willing.

Or maybe the Super would come in unannounced, like the old cretin was known to do occasionally. And what would he think to see Ofelia on her knees, her face on the bed sheet, sticking her ass up in the air and the pink crack of her cunt wet enough for him to slide his cock into it, her asshole in plain view like some prancing house-cat?

As she lay there her mind wandered, and she had brief fantasies, most of them slightly different versions of the same themes. She imagined herself as Mrs. Santiago, standing at her machine at the laundry mill. Beatriz was there, scowling at her from her machine. Daniel was behind her, kissing her neck, sweeping her hair back so he could see her soft, dark skin. She was just working as usual. Daniel's hands slipped up under her shirt. Beatriz shook her head as she watched the nasty gringo's hands caressing Ofelia's tender little tits, pinching her nipples, squeezing them and pulling them until they were swollen and stiff --

and Daniel reached down to her belly and unfastened the button of her jeans. He pulled her zipper down and exposed a wedge of Ofelia's white cotton panties, the kind that good little girls and good little wives wear. Then his hand went down the front of her panties and his fingers explored her pussy, slid down its moist, fleshy groove, touched the warm, wet lips, and finally sank into her vagina [...cunt...]--

In her fantasy Daniel wasn't the man she had started to fall in love with in the pool, but an entirely different Daniel, a Daniel who wanted her for nothing but her Cunt --

then there would be some other men there, watching the boss take his pleasure. Beatriz would be frowning and scowling. Daniel would pull Ofelia's jeans, and then her panties, all the way down to her knees so that the other men could see her bare ass. Daniel would laugh and say, "atta girl", as he playfully swatted her ass, the backs of her thighs

--Look at that tight ass. Yes that's a nice tight. Ass she has there. Look at that Tight little. Ass --

He would open her up and show her to the other men, and they would leer and whistle and cat-call like the silly little boys they were.

Ofelia's heart beat in her chest while she switched to another fantasy. This time she was in the pool with Manuel and a few of her cousins. Manuel came up behind her and unhooked her bikini top and ripped it away from her before she could prevent him from doing it. And the guys laughed and pointed at her naked tits, her nipples puckered and hard from being in the cold water

-- look at those tits those are nice tits look at those tits those tetas those tits --

but she didn't pretend to try and hide them like she did on the few occasions when that sort of thing actually happened. Instead, she went out of the pool and sat on the edge with her feet in the water, leaning forward so that her tits looked bigger because they were hanging down

and she would just laugh back at them and tell them what a bunch of sneaky banditos they were and they would surround her and she would sit back leaning back on the palms of her hands and just shake her head as their hands went all over her taking turns handling her tits pulling her nipples tapping her tits on the bottom so they would jiggle and they would dare her to show them her pussy

-- show us your pussy Ofelia yes that's right your Pussy there's a good girl what a good Kunt pucha Cunt pucha mira!--

Ofelia became more and more restless until finally she was in a sweat. It seemed awfully hot in the room, even with the windows open and the cool air coming in. Ofelia lifted her bottom and slid her pajama-shorts off, kicked them off her feet. Then she sat up briefly and removed her top. That was nothing too out of the ordinary. During the summer Ofelia sometimes went to bed with nothing on but her panties. She lay back with her arms out, feeling herself wet and hot between her legs. Her nipples were standing up in the air, brushed harder and harder by the swirling breeze. Her right hand went up so she could play with the open end of the pillowcase. She liked to feel the cool, sharp edges on her fingertips. It was a habit she had not been able to shake. She was lying like that when she heard her Mom and her brother come home.

"Is she still out with that man?" she heard Dominga say, as if to herself.

"She better not be." Manuel answered, and immediately set off down the hall. She saw his slender form in the doorway. He could see her lying on their bed. Thinking her asleep, he went back and said something to Dominga in soft tones. Ofelia could feel his relief, his gladness at knowing she was safe and sound and in his bed.

Their bed.

xi.

For a while Ofelia drifted in and out of a shallow sleep, a fitful sleep filled with Daniel's face, his arms and his white chest, his hands. He was kissing her and she was running her hands through his hair, telling him not to stop, that he could kiss her as much as he wanted, that she belonged to him. She became so wet the seat of her panties was soaked through. It was around eight-thirty when Manuel came back into the room. He lay down on the bed and was very still for a few moments, just listening to the sound of his sister's irregular breathing, enjoying her presence.

"Hola, Papi." Ofelia said, so softly and sweetly, and turned onto her side.

"Hola, mi amor." Manuel replied, pleased that she had wakened.

Dominga had gone into her room to read, and closed her door. Manuel turned onto his side so that the two were facing one another. It was dark but not too dark that they couldn't see each other. Manuel had left their door ajar and the hall-light was on, as it always was. Manuel raised his arm and brushed some of Ofelia's hair off her cheek. He took a long time to tuck it around the top her her ear, sweeping his fingers along the soft tress around her ear's curve. He touched her earlobe, the little ring there, then moved his finger to her shoulder.

Ofelia giggled, "It tickles, Papi."

"You're supposed to say, calmate!" Manuel reminded her.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot." Ofelia said, sleepily. She cleared her throat, and said, "Calmate." in the tiniest voice Manuel had ever heard.

They laughed, and Manuel maneuvered himself so that he was close enough to his sister to feel her breath on his face. Butterfly-breath, he called it, and only Ofelia breathed it. She opened her eyes because she knew how close he was, because he was holding his breath. That's always what gave him away. Manuel stared at Ofelia and moved still closer, so that their noses were almost touching. He felt himself grow hard down in his shorts, and he was sure he could smell Ofelia's flower. He was smelling it on her fingers. When he had that smell on his own fingers he wouldn't wash until it had faded. Ofelia turned onto her back again.

"Papi."

"Que?"

Ofelia found her brother's hand and put it down between her legs. She had never done anything like that before and Manuel's heart trip-hammered in his chest. He gave a short, soft cry. She moved his hand so that his fingertips were outside her panties at the top of her vulva. She applied pressure and moved his fingertips for him, down into that soft groove between the thicker lips, and up, up until she had guided him to her clit, which was swollen and firm.

"Can you feel that?"

"Dios mio, si." Manuel's voice was shaky. He was breathing harder.

"Relax, Papi."

Ofelia opened her legs. Slowly, and still holding his fingers against her clit through her panties, she pushed her bottom upwards, pressing herself into Manuel's touch. Her narrow hips moved in a slow circle, and her taut little rear-end tensed and pushed and slid on the bed sheet. Manuel was too astonished to do anything of his own volition. Ofelia had to keep his fingers where she wanted them and move her body in accordance with that. Her eyes were closed. She moved her head slowly from side to side on her flat pillow, licking her lips, falling back into the darkness behind her eyes, her breasts going up and down to her quickening breath, her nipples standing up dark and hard like black pawns on a chessboard.

In a very fluid motion Ofelia moved her brother's hand up and back down, except when his fingers went back down she made them slide under the elastic waistband of her panties. Manuel gave another muted cry when he felt how smooth she was. She had shaved her flower. Manuel pressed his fingers into Ofelia's shorn flower, up to the very top where it started to divide, and he made her gasp loudly when he found that hard thorn again. She only held onto his wrist now, and Manuel was looking down at her face in the dim light while he caressed her gently, dipping his fingers lower, rubbing a slow circle around

-- the small hole inside at the bottom of her pussy, Ofelia's pussy, feeling it cling to his knuckle, wet and very hot, pushing it into that hole, making a funny wet sound down there like a fart, then back up to her clit, feeling the small lips of her pussy, Ofelia's pussy, her pink lips, spreading them open, rubbing the whole soft smooth mound of Ofelia's pussy as she swiveled her hips, feeling her culita with his fingertips, Ofelia's secret asshole, Ofelia's asshole, and she was like the tied end of a balloon there, and he could smell it, and Ofelia was breathing harder and faster, moving her hips like those putas he stared at grinding on the internet, those tattooed gringas and cholas with rings in their --

--then his sister was fucking his hand, fucking his fingers, her pussy getting its slippery sticky juice all over, and she was crying out and sucking her cries back in at the same time, and he felt her squirt between his fingers from her pussy and spray against his palm as she let herself come finally, let it tear through her like a tornado, let herself fuck her own brother's hand [his cock] with her --

The two of them lay still for several minutes without saying anything. Ofelia's bare bottom was in a puddle. Manuel had marks from her fingernails in his hand, wrist, forearm. Finally Ofelia turned onto her side, facing him, and said, "Papi?"

"What?"

"You want to make shoelaces?"

"Oh, my God."

Ofelia helped him get it out of his pee-jays, still lying on her side, then wrapped her long fingers around the top few inches of Manuel's penis and slowly began to move the skin sheath up and down, rolling the circumcised foreskin up and down over the fat head that looked to Ofelia like the head of a King Cobra. She knew exactly what to do, exactly how much pressure to apply, exactly the right motion, even the way she tipped his penis backwards so that she could see the slit opening, so she could milk it better, and so his sperm would spurt out onto his chest and make a big arch in the air, so she could see it, so she could watch it and he could watch her watching one shoelace after another, spitting and spurting out of the snake's mouth, white ribbons out of the pink dragon, splashing and quivering like pudding on his dark skin, like sea foam, like warm pearls, clean and fresh and hot.

It took only a minute. The first shoelace spat out with a barely audible thwiiiick and cabled itself almost perfectly straight from his navel up to his collar. More and more shoelaces spurted, curved, looped, splashed, white and thick all over his upper torso, even his arms. Manuel just moaned quietly and stroked Ofelia's bare shoulder, her back, the top of her panties.

"There." Ofelia said, still holding his penis but not moving her hand, just letting the last droplets bead down over the webbing of her hand between her thumb and forefinger. She didn't mind the warm feel of it on her or the pungent smell it wove into the air. Truthfully, she liked to feel it on her skin and she liked the smell of it.

She was careful when she took the toilet paper to clean it up, dabbing at it gingerly from the oozy tip, sopping up the rich nutmilk, white, smearing the cockmilk, wiping it from his belly, his chest, his nipple. Lastly, she wiped it from her hand. She put several little balls of sodden toilet tissue on the night-stand.

Ofelia curled up into a little ball and Manuel curled up behind her, and in this way the two slept very soundly and very peacefully.

this concludes chapter one.