BSU: A Romance In Molly - Ch. 03

"Had enough?" Martin said.

"No, not really," Her eyes widened, as did Martin's. He sat up quickly, face flushing, and covered the crotch of his pants, where a sharp peak protruded.

"God, Molly, I-I'm sorry. All that talk about sex, and then us touching like that - It just happened on its own."

Molly sat up, yanked Martin down atop her, scratched the back of his neck, and kissed him. He kissed back, feeling like a man who had spent years and years staring at an oasis in the desert, but had not been allowed to drink from it.

Molly broke off for just long enough to say "Take your shirt off."

Someone knocked on the door. Martin scrambled off Molly, leaving her panting and red-faced on his navy-blue duvet.

"Come in," Molly said, sitting up and straightening out the creases in her clothes.

Amy padded in, sock-encased feet utterly silent on the carpet. Now that she had vented her anger, there was an air of resignation about her. Molly instantly knew that she had to be elsewhere. She felt a slight twinge of jealousy that there was something between Amy and Martin that not even the closest lover could fathom: the bond between siblings.

"I'll be in the kitchen. That casserole won't check itself," Molly said. She shot Martin a look that said let's pick up where we left off later and went downstairs.

Martin sat Amy down on his bed and let her lean her head against his shoulder, just as she had done in her room before.

"It's really happening, huh?" Amy said. Her eyes were red and puffy. She blinked a lot when she spoke.

"Believe me, I wish there was some other way." Martin raised his hand to his mouth and gnawed at the back of a finger. "But even assuming the three of us don't have to eat, and each work two full-time jobs, we'll barely have enough."

"Go ahead and say it. I'm a big girl."

"Barely have enough to send you to college. If we take inflation into account, we'll have to go into debt for your final year -- and you know how the banks treat households with no men working in an X zone."

"Lie to me."

"Huh?"

"Go on. Lie to me and tell me you're not doing this for me. Tell me that you want to see the great, big world outside the PG zone. That you want to try and make it in New York, or Shanghai, or London. Tell me you're bored with the plain old humans in this idyllic small town, like in all the old books."

"I couldn't be," Martin said. He turned to look his sister in her eyes. "You and Mom are all I have."

A tear ran down his cheek. Almost all I have, he corrected himself silently. He thought of Molly's sparkling eyes, felt the scent of her hair burning in his nostrils, its pleasurable flames catching and raging in his loins. He saw Molly's bare navel, and his mind's eye roamed up to (was he allowed to fantasize? Yes, of course he was -- he was eighteen!) her bare chest, which he imagined to have delicate pink nipples. What feminine mysteries awaited him between her legs? What would that delicate pink flower feel like as it ensconced him within its folds?

Finally, he fantasized about the look in her eyes that would tie everything together, giving substance to the façade of sensory pleasure. Her eyes would initially be narrow with merriment before going wide with pleasure and amazement as they connected. She would egg him on, holding him close and urging him to go faster and harder. To surrender all that he was as she did the same.

Amy saw the tear run down her brother's cheek, kissed it away, and hugged her brother close, afraid that if she let go, he would rupture and fragment into a million pieces.

"We'll figure this out," she said. What else could she have said?

"I guess."

They dried their tears and recited their shared childhood memories: The time Martin had gotten mad with Tyrell and chased him around the neighborhood because he had called Amy "Lamey-Amy". The day the two of them had gone on a hunger strike to demand more candy from their mother, only to cave in when their mother had told them they were going to have steak for dinner. The prank that they had pulled when Martin was ten, and Carla had come to check in on him.

"I can still remember the look on her face when I told her that I wanted a doll, and that I was really a girl on the inside." Martin smacked his knee and roared with laughter.

"I should have gotten a picture of you in my skirt. You looked so cute." Amy giggled.

"Guys!" Tara called from the foot of the stairs, "Dinner's ready!"

Steve had returned by then for his share of the dinner. He was polite, quiet, and thoughtful. Everyone respectfully avoided the topic of birthdays and families, focusing instead on jokes and complaints about the government (always a safe topic whenever one didn't know what else to say). It wasn't Martin's feelings they were minding; Steve would celebrate his own eighteenth birthday next month.

After having dinner, Martin and Molly went for a long walk. They meandered along until it was dark, and the stars had come out, passing Martin's own home several times. As they walked, they held hands and spoke. Some of it was about Molly's happy and unusual childhood with her father. Most of what they said had to do with Martin himself, about things he could not and would not discuss in front of Amy and his mother.

"So what Steve's older brother wrote about in his letter was true," Martin said grimly.

"From what my mom saw when she finally managed to meet dad several months after he had left, yes."

"That's crazy." Martin shook his head. "I still can't believe he wasn't messing around with us."

"Believe it." Molly squeezed his hand tighter, as though afraid he would be taken from her at any moment.

"I can't imagine my dick being a foot long. Let alone three! This has got to be a prank. You're recording this somehow."

Martin glared accusingly at her and pointed at a nearby hedgerow that fronted an exquisitely-painted pink house, which had a door decorated with fake gemstones arranged in the shape of a skull. The dusky-skinned woman who had lived in that home would leave pastries and sugary treats on a table outside for passersby whenever she went on a baking spree with her three sons. There had been scones on the table that morning, but now only crumbs were left under a clear plastic cover.

"I wish," Molly said. "But hey, it's not so bad. According to Dad's handlers, he felt nothing but pleasure every day."

"Handlers?"

"That's what Mom called them anyways. Look -- it's complicated. You'll find out all about it sooner or later."

"I wish I didn't have to."

Molly looked long and hard into his eyes. She smiled.

"I believe you."

"Molly, whatever others might say, you're every bit as beautiful as a Shifter. More, in fact."

"I'm not being sarcastic, Martin. You're not like the rest of the boys who want to work in the X zones because they want sex at the drop of a hat. And let's not lie to each other." She glanced left and right, and seeing no one wandering around, pulled down the neck opening of her elastic, close-fitting T-shirt to expose her breasts. "These don't quite compare to a Shifter's."

Martin's eyes almost jumped out of their sockets. His mouth fell open and stayed that way. Molly wiggled her shoulders once, making her erect pink nipples jiggle and dance about in the cool night air before letting go of the fabric and ending the brief display.

Martin practically dragged Molly over to her home further down the street. She had a smug smile on her face, as though she had won a prize at a fair.

"Down, boy," she murmured when Martin kissed her neck as she fumbled with her front door. Her own fingers were almost as clumsy as his. "We have the house to ourselves. Mom's out of town on business."

They made out in the hallway, bumping about gradually towards the stairs. Molly led Martin along a trail of rose petals that begun on the first step. Martin knew what that meant, and what it called for: murmured gratitude, reverential silence, and worshipful adoration.

The trail entered Molly's room and terminated in a circle around her bed. She shoved Martin down and ran her hands over his chest.

The removal of each article of clothing was celebrated with whispered praise and hot, fevered kisses. Martin cupped Molly's breasts in his hands and tried to memorize their weight and softness. Molly ran her fingers over Martin's angular chest, counting each rib. Martin went very still when he watched her step out of her pants. Molly giggled and stared longingly at his erection as Martin wiggled out of his boxers.

They held hands again and just sat there on Molly's bed, watching their own reflections in the full-length mirror on the wall before them.

"I've thought a lot about what to say, but I can't come up with anything better than I love you, Martin Emerson," Molly said.

"I love you too, Molly Jones."

The lovers moved as though they had always known what to do. Martin lay on his back, and Molly straddled him, scratching the back of his neck playfully. Both tenderness and triumph shone from her eyes as she took Martin in her hand and lowered herself onto him. When their connection was complete, she bent forward to press her forehead against his. After a minute or so of absolute stillness, her body began dancing atop Martin's, and his own hips matched her rhythm.

Both wanted the moment to last forever, but their bodies had other plans. They both moved faster and faster. Molly's nipples drew pink arcs in the soft yellow light of her nightlight. Martin's mouth opened wide, yawning in pleasure as his body tensed and convulsed past the point of no return. Molly put her face to Martin's, as though trying to steal his breath and soul as he shuddered and shot his warm seed into her.

"That was amazing," Molly said. Martin had slid out of her shortly after his orgasm, and no amount of fondling and coaxing on Molly's part had been able to get him back to his initial turgid state. It was not something that bothered them too much; neither of them had expected that losing their virginities to each other would be so uncomplicated. Though Martin had not managed to last long enough for Molly to orgasm, she had directed him in the use of his fingers shortly afterwards, and was soon equally satiated.

"The best I've ever had."

"Obviously. I'm also the only you've ever had. How am I supposed to mess that up?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Molly punched him lightly on the shoulder. "That was me being sarcastic, by the way."

"I noticed." Martin studied Molly's reclining figure in the mirror, ran his hand along her hip, and watched his reflection do the same. Even when the roaring hunger for sex had been temporarily silenced, he found her beautiful in a way he couldn't quite explain.

"If only we'd lived in the time Before," Molly mused. "Back when the sunsets were redder and the oceans wilder and choppier, back when men and women could be true to their natures."

"What was it like?" Martin said.

"Well, for one..." Molly pursed her lips, her eyes drifting half-shut, "It wouldn't have been as safe as it is now outside after dark. There were men and, less often, women who didn't have everything they wanted. These people would beat you half to death or kill you to take your money."

"You're joking."

"It's true." Molly rubbed the inside of Martin's thigh. He felt himself beginning to stir again. "Every word of it."

"I guess I can't say for sure that it isn't true."

"They also had this subject in school called 'sex ed', where they taught you all about sex."

"No way."

Again, the same, diligent rubbing and the same straight face.

"So everyone in class did what we were just doing? Pair up and go to each others' homes?" Martin said.

"No. I mean, yes, they did sleep with each other. But no, actually doing it was not part of the curriculum. All they did was teach you about sex and stuff. You could get the rest from the Internet."

"Oh. So the time before was an exciting, dangerous world where there was lots of fighting and killing, and schools taught you about sex."

"That about sums it up. Also, there was also this thing called a bra that a lot of women wore." Molly shrugged. "It sounds like a fashion article, but apparently if you didn't wear it, you were considered improper or something like that."

"Seriously crazy times."

"Well, well, look who's back." Molly's squeezed, causing him to grunt.

"Wanna try doing it downstairs?" Martin said, surprising even himself with the brazenness of his request.

"Take me in the hallway first. Let's make sure we cover every spot in the house." Molly sat up and got behind Martin, dragging her bullet-hard nipples up and down his back as she stroked him and scratched the back of his neck. Martin groaned and closed his eyes.

"Y-you sure we have the time for that?"

"Oh, yes. Mom's not coming back for quite a while."