Polar Attraction

Anya reached into her purse, cursing what's-his-name to the fierce wind. "Hates vegetarians, huh? God forbid he do something good for your body or society," she said with an unwavering sense of superiority as she pulled her pack of additive free American Spirit cigarettes and lit one. She entered her housing coöperative, cigarette smoked, her hair dazzled white, and arms clutching her stomach while she dragged her sleeping bag. Her boyfriend sat watching television in an adjacent room. He resisted the urge to smile at his leader's share in the delay of her latest cause for one night.

"I told you it was bad outside," he said anyway. Rightly Anya scowled but stepped right in front of him on her way to her room.

"I suppose you'll vote Democratic or worse yet Republican now?" she accused the faux anarchist with a slight chill induced slur. "And by the way Xylon, we're through! I'm getting some soy milk and going to bed..." she trailed off more articulately as her bones warmed .

When both Henry and Anya got to bed however neither could sleep. Their minds racing a mile a minute in the darkness, they combed through their argument for weakness in their opponent. They groaned at each missed opportunity to strike what they thought to be a fatal blow but smiled delightedly whenever they assured themselves otherwise. Neither however could truthfully convince themselves they had won.

In the course of Henry's argument, his large hands stroked his stomach and gradually slid down his body until they came to his throbbing cock. He habitually rubbed it through his flannel boxers. Stroking the length of the bulge for several minutes, he started to punctuate it with delicate squeezes until a few drops of pre-cum dripped out onto his thigh. His thoughts revolved around that dyed in the hair smug hypocritical liberal as he slowly started squeezing his thighs and resuming the light strokes of his penis underneath the boxers.

For comfort Anya always slept naked but since she too tried to argue Henry out of her thoughts, she could not rest peacefully. The hours dragged slowly but her lids remained light and eyes burned with furious anger every time she projected his smart figure on the ceiling above her. In the beginning, for lack of an adjacent object to hurl at the imagined target on the ceiling, her hands nervously kneaded the small amount of flesh at her stomach. Quite naturally they ventured lower to her inner thigh, massaging the growing fire between them until they reached her un-manicured pussy and gently rubbed it. Instantly the once concentrated anger spread from her loins to the rest of her body. Now spread thin, she was unsure if the dispersion had weakened the itch or merely made it more thorough. But whatever it did, she knew it pleased her like scratching an inch and a smile crept up her cheek as her index finger continued to slide up and down her aching pussy.

Absentmindedly her fingertip traced a line upon her tingling labium until it became raw from sensual stimulation. Arriving to the bottom near her hole, she pushed the finger in deeper and lazily circled it at the entrance of her moist pussy to collect its bountiful juices. Slick with her caress, her finger pushed upward along her inner labia as she had her outer but this time spiraling her motion and applying her self lubricant elsewhere. Sighing deeply, she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and nibbled.

"You think you're so fucking brilliant..." Henry groaned as he gripped the erect cock poking through his boxers' useless flap. His hand pumped it expertly with fluid movement while his body lay contorted in pleasure. Throbbing with each beat, his glans stood proudly but hurting for warm cum to rupture its head and spill about. "You're just," he loudly swallowed saliva collecting at the back of his throat, "a default liberal," he assured himself as his tempo increased and a hazy apparition of her thin face and the indignant words that came from it bounced underneath his closed eyelids, leaving a misty rainbow of colors behind it. "You're probably a fucking dyke anyway..." he told himself.

Normally at night no electrical noise came from Anya's room. Her alarm clock was digital with a rechargeable battery back up. Her computer was turned off when not in use to conserve energy. But tonight a steady whirring agitated the air. A small vibrator muffled by her clutching hand dashed inside her vulva as she hunted the resolution that would finally let her banish that awful Republican from her thoughts. "Ahhhh—haaaaa...." she sighed with relief as each careful stroke stacked upon others for the thunderous satisfaction she knew would come. "That damn little itch," her jaw dropped open and she moaned under her breath, her shoulder blades drawing closer and her thin body arched. The more she thought of Henry the more desperately she had to scratch the itch. Had it been anywhere else, her nails would have left her bare skin raw and pink but since she was using a vibrator in her wet pussy, the only pink was from the blood flooding her engorged sensitized lips. She mused that her vibrator was like the magnetic wand of a Wooly Willy in her thicket of pubic hair since she could merely shuffle the itch and not rid herself of it.

Both clenched their free hands into their respective bedsheets and silently exclaimed their ecstasy as their orgasms exploded within their loins and their muscles spasmed in joy.

Henry's pre-occupation with Anya melted like the snow outside would in a few days time. Her image disappeared like a puff of smoke dispersed by a swinging hand. He took off the soiled boxers, got up from bed to throw them into his hamper, and put on a new pair before hopping back into bed and falling asleep. Anya however lay stiffly spread eagle, her eyes slowly opening and closing as they gazed into space. Unable to move, her body lay quickly chilling in the sweat soaked linen even though she felt she could easily have dissolved into it. Closing her eyes, the specter of her tormentor disappeared and she started to sleep without a social agenda.

Night after night thoughts of their rival steeped inside their inflamed minds. Cheeks red and eyes ablaze under their weightless lids, visions of their tormentor caused violent fits as if to physically expel them. This only accomplished to keep them awake for even longer and increase their pre-occupation all the more. Remembering the peace that masturbation brought them that first fateful night, they both eventually realized the solution to their budding problem was in the power of their nimble hands. Two restless nights and exhausting days were all it took to delve them into a pattern of hushed but angry arguments with their imagined foe, complete with straw man replies and bad voice imitation. They filled a store of counter arguments not conceived during the initial encounter and practiced them as they experienced the loneliest kind of love, emptying their sexual reserves.

This torment slowly creeped into the daytime as well. The other person's disembodied voice periodically whispered propaganda into their ears. Henry, engaged in conversation with a fellow College Republican friend, snapped and accused him being an in the closet liberal. He quickly apologized but did not offer an excuse for his outburst. At one point Anya, while in a bakery, nearly scourged herself with her purse strap when she bought a white sugar treat instead of a vegetarian one made with the unprocessed variety. Three weeks later, their hatred ever ready to spill over the cusp , they had their chance to settle the score and finally unleash the wealth of carefully crafted solo debate.

"On behalf of the College Republicans I'd like to thank the panelists for coming," Henry said from behind the podium as he gestured to the four men and one woman sitting at a long table to his right. "Oleanna University is notorious, like most campuses filled with young people, liberal minded people, for students whose hearts are in the right place but are misguided by the media." The applause sounded scattered despite all attendees clapping enthusiastically; out of nearly fifty seats, a mere twenty were warmed. "Thank you," he urged the raucous crowd to settle and let him speak. "The setting for our panel discussion is indicative of this environment. Over the years I've learned to skip requesting rooms for the CRs anywhere outside Business Hall." As it was intended, this drew appropriate boos. Though the panel technically was supposed to be neutral, the toothless "Yes" vote for withdrawal was a foregone conclusion and the Hall let him tilt it however he pleased. "We first should thank our veterans here. They did their tour..."

"Tours actually," one veteran with a bold mustache and a shaved head corrected. "All of our tours were extended."

"Right, sorry. They did their tours..."

"And a couple of us are going back in a few months," another veteran continued.

"Sorry again. They fought and continue to fight for the security of our nation and its flag that is so often desecrated by leftists who hate the president, hate our troops, and most importantly, reject God." More unanimous but scattered applause from the dress casual and predominantly male crowd. A few veterans winced when he told the attendees what their own personal reasons for enlisting were but Henry did not notice. "I'd like to start with Mrs..."

"'Ms.', actually," the burly woman corrected him.

"Right," he brushed off. "I'd like to start with Ms..." he was suddenly interrupted by a burst through the door. All heads turned to investigate. An undergrad dressed in cut off cargo pants, Keds, and a tattered black hooded sweatshirt in defiance of the Indian Summer outside marched into the room with a train of similarly dressed compatriots.

"No blood for oil! No blood for oil! Stop the drilling, stop the war, get our troops out! No blood for oil! No blood for oil! Stop the drilling, stop the war, get our troops out!" they chanted as they stomped inside and encircled the chairs like a moat of unwashed liberal activism sieging a castle.

"Oh please for the love of God stop this! This is a panel meeting and we don't bother your love-ins do we?" he mocked them as they raised their fists into the air.

"No blood for oil!" They repeated. Henry raised his fingers to make another point but stopped when he recognized one of the androgynous looking protesters underneath a cap bearing Ernesto "Che" Guevara's silhouette. The soldiers and Republicans in the room shifted in their seats, unwilling to recognize the protest as legitimate and give fuel to the fire. Henry was quite willing to join them until he confirmed that, in the shouting liberal swirl, he found that familiar face staring contemptuously right back at him. The veins in Henry's forehead bulged and his fists clenched when he saw the thin face of his tormentor in the flesh, recalling his night-time anguish ten fold.. He ran forward and grabbed her by the sweatshirt, removing the offending hat simultaneously. As he plucked it, he could not help but notice the fruity bouquet of her shampoo waft with it.

"This is the hat of a man who fought for nationalizing private property! He fought against America!" Anya's friends looked horrified at the prospect of violence erupting and cautiously looked on, their chant trickling away.

"Property that belonged to the mob and corrupt corporations feeding off Batista's leniency to them!" she reacted with loud but non-hostile calm. He threw the cap to the floor, drawing gasps from the youths. One degenerate plucked it from the ground, handling it like a bomb that might explode.

"What're you even doing here? You own the rest of campus, why not give us some space?!"

"So we remind you! And besides," she said as her eyes pretended to count the empty seats, "it doesn't look like too many agree with continuing the war," she sneered. "War has never solved anything."

"Hitler, to name just one"

"War created Hitler."

"But that still doesn't mean it's not constructive!"

"It's DE-structive!"

"Oh that is complete bullshit!" he ended childishly to conclude the argument. He released her from his grasp. Anya lightly touched her fingertips to her chest and nervously coughed at the new breath of freedom. The angry squeezes of such a determined and intelligent man flustered her a bit and she secretly wished he would not have let go—for protest purposes of course. The violent nature of the conservative patriarchy would have been further highlighted.

"That's the best you got." she egged him on.

"Yeah. What we talked about last month. Veganism," he mistakenly remembered her to be, "is futile and not healthy as evident by your skinny body," he stuck out his left index finger and tapped it with his right's to count. "Global warming is nothing but scientific scare tactics from the liberal elite to make us ride bikes or use hydrogen cars," he struck two fingers, "A flat tax is efficient," he struck three fingers, "And as far as I'm concerned, the homeless can sit and rot!" With each counting strike of his fingers, Anya's friends gasped in horror at their leader's challenge. For the whole tirade she stood patiently, crossing her arms and tapping her feet but with a tight mouth and glaring eyes.

"Global warming isn't conclusively proven yet but neither is relativity or plate tectonics but that doesn't mean it, one," she imitated him mockingly by counting her fingers, "doesn't exist. And two, shouldn't be studied!" She used those two fingers to point straight at his face, making him gently push them aside to avoid a scene. Her light brown eyes glinted in the humming fluorescence but possessed all the warmth and beauty of an intelligent and determined person passionately fighting for a cause. Even in the sterile white walled classroom, her skinny frame shown underneath layers of clothing, and her thin lips punctured by a ring and spouting nonsense, she entranced him and drew an equally passionate reaction. She forced him to defend the very ideals that composed his world and strengthened his own faith since Republican givens were under attack. It was painful at first, those long nights she entrenched into his mind, but once that bridge was crossed, his heart would sink and beat heavily until his politics aroused him and filled his mind with euphoric ecstasy...

"Get with the twentieth century!"...she felt the same way and her pussy warmed and quivered at the sight of him.

They continued fighting, oblivious to audience and protesters sitting in numb shock at the passion between the two heated rivals. The protesters lacked the backbone to question their organizer's decision to fight the system one Republican at a time. The weaker ones slipped away confused whereas others stayed until the argument got into the tenth minute. The audience and veterans, for a similar fear and apathy respectively, left them in the deadlocked argument that cycled around the exact points they had prepared in those long heated nights. One by one the audience and protesters left as the minutes ticked by until Anya and Henry, sensing a stillness outside the zone of their disagreement, scanned the room and realized it had cleared out.

"Damnit you ruined my panel!" he yelled with furious heartbeat rattling his clenched teeth.

"It was bull-shit in the first place and you know it!" she retaliated.

"I can't you get out of my mind!" He did not want her to leave it.

"I never said I wanted to be in there!" She did.

"I can't function with you in my head like this; it's making me insane!"

"Get out of mine first!" She shouted. Raising and lowering their shoulders with each breath that escaped their flared nostrils, they looked square into the other's eyes. The itch had returned to both of them but instead of a one dimensional straw man to argue with, their opponent adapted and challenged them, making their discussion go in circles and refuse them satisfaction. And without the solitude of their bedrooms, neither could scratch their itch. In an instant both lunged for the other's mouth. Henry wrapped his arms behind Anya's back as hers flailed behind his. Their pressing lips smacked wetly in furious pecks sure to bruise the next day.

"I hate you so much!" she moaned between their belligerent kisses right before inserting her tongue into his mouth, tasting and making more of him belong to her.

"Pinko!" he replied as his hand reached behind her head and pressed her body closer to his. Almost lifting her small frame off the ground, he sprinted her against the white walls with a resounding thud and showered dozens of kisses down her delicate chin and smooth neck until he reached the blushing warm valley between her tits, only to return to her pierced lips. She gently pushed his face and torso away, giving her arms enough room to violently rip his dress shirt off. The half dozen plastic buttons tossed and scattered on the hard floor as she labored to remove it. He pressed his hips against her, removed his arms from her thin ass, and lifted the limbs above his head so she could take the shirt off more easily. His lips returned to hers but she bit them as she grunted, annoyed at the half stripped shirt stuck around his wrists by the cuff buttons—but it did come off and his exposed hairy chest crafted an aura thoroughly manly. Never ceasing her embrace, she touched her palms his chest, fingers running through the thicket as if forging a trail.

"You're such a man!" she accused, her mouth muffled by his taut lips.

"Thank you," he answered, unsure whether she meant it as an insult or complement—most likely both.

It was her turn now so she raised her arms, enabling him to take take her shirts off. To support her without his hands holding her ass firmly, he pressed his hips and swollen cock against her harder still. He quickly took off her layers and her bra-less breasts dropped softly as the clothes shortly raised them until they finally left her small body and joined the floor with his white shirt and buttons. She coiled her bare arms around his neck and gripped her hands firmly at her elbows and pulled his coarse chest against her, smothering her aching breasts. The hair rubbed against her erect nipples, stacking her ecstasy with each dynamic alternation as his body shifted unpredictably, following his soft lips and caressing hands against the tingling bare skin.

"Typical liberal promiscuity," he moaned between their embraces. She squeezed his neck hard and withdrew her mouth.

"Enjoying sex is not a bad thing." she answered quickly before returning it. But not to shut him up however. She ached for him to say more.

"You barely know me and you're letting me fondle you, that's a bad thing," he continued as he kissed the nook of her neck and she pressed his head against her body, her eyes closed and aimed at the ceiling.

With his right ear pressed against her neck, her voice was almost unintelligible. "Men are such hypocrites! You don't even know my last name!" He heard her voice through the vibration of her throat as he continued kissing her shoulder.

"No, I don't," he muffled against her moist flesh.

"Anya Freifrau," she sighed. Henry abruptly stopped and slowly brought his eyes straight upon hers. He stared blankly as his head filled with anguished burning thoughts and felt ready to collapse onto the floor.

"Freifrau. 'Free woman.' That should be 'Freiman'" he replied, readying himself for shock.

"I changed it. I'm not a man." The sheer uselessness of her sentiment regarding her father's name—the man who created her—boiled Henry's blood into his tingling nerves, giving his erection a pulsing throb that rubbed against his pants and her moist crevasse, and spilled over, casting his angry eyes upon her. Pulling his hips away from so she fell from the wall and landed on her small feet, he lunged for her mouth one last time as his hands swiftly fiddled with her belt and pulled her long skirt to mid thigh. Lowering himself onto his knees, he pressed his nose and mouth to her plain black panties as his hands thrust the skirt to her feet. He noisily inhaled her potent essence, making him light headed either from the sudden oxygen or the weighted memory of past muff dives and thoroughly used condoms. She cautiously stepped from out her sandals and cast her inhibiting clothes away with two swift kicks. He closed his eyes and continued to imbibe her exquisite musk but was disturbed by her sudden stirring.