Impact 09: of Repentance

"I knew this shocked you. I could tell this was something you and Danny never did. Iliked that it shocked you. I loved how you responded. It made you so... eager. I could tell it aroused you. But I let my fear come out as real anger. I said things I wish I hadn't. I hate that I was rough with you."

"I like that you know what pleases you, that you... demand," I assure her, and then whispering, I admit, "...I like being your slut. I love being your whore."

"Sarah..."

Squeezing her lips between her teeth, and swallowing hard, Claire looks at me, an expression of wonder on her face. Her tears finally overflow but she doesn't sob. When she speaks again, I can hear her struggle not to lose control.

"I love the things you do to me, how you make me feel. The only thing I have ever wanted more is to do the same for you. Please believe me, I only want to make you happy and give you the same pleasure you have given me...," she says, her voice shaking. "You are so fresh. I never should have rushed you, I never want you to do something you don't want to do... and last night-"

She chokes up and I wait for her to recover, but reach out to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She lets me, but as she regains herself she takes my hands in hers.

"I felt so ugly last night, so old and wrong. Then you made me feel so beautiful... but afterwards I was... confused."

She reaches to wipe her cheek with her knuckle and then wipes my eyes with her finger tips.

"...it's hard Sarah, harder than I thought. Sometimes it's difficult for a woman to... open up, to allow herself to be pleasured. I understand that, I've felt that way with men at times... and this... this - what's happened between us - is... different; taboo. It's very new for both of us. I understood why you might hold back. But I didn't think you would hold back this long. It's scary for me to feel this is one-sided, that perhaps you want it to be... that you don't want to feel for me what I feel for you?"

I look at her hands holding mine, I know I should say something, anything, but my words are choked back by the tears. I just want to tell her they are my fears too.

"This morning, when you took Wes to the bus, I thought you would come back, that I could talk to you. When you didn't come back or reply to my voicemail or my texts, I thought that I had driven you away. Today was the worst day of my life Sarah; the thought of losing you."

Our hands are in Claire's lap. She's looking at our fingers, laced together, holding tight. There's a long silence. I want to be sure Claire is finished, that she's not just gathering her thoughts.

"Last night was awful," I finally tell her, when I am sure she is done.

"I never meant for you to-"

"Let me," I tell her, squeezing her fingers, and Claire stops, chastened.

"I've never seen you vulnerable before, never seen you hurt. I knew, our first time..."

I faltered, wanting to use a euphemism, but thought of Claire, how clearly she speaks.

"The first time I went down on you... that I ate you out... and then told you I was tired... I knew that you didn't believe me, that I'd confused you. I hated that. I knew you didn't understand. But Claire, I don't understand either, so I tried to pretend it wasn't happening. And then it happened again and again, and each time it got worse. Like I was lying to you. And last night I hurt you and I saw it clearly, I felt it. That's what was awful Claire. I never imagined I was hurting you - I didn't even think I could."

The tears are starting again, and I stop, taking deep breaths while Claire watches. She looks so sad.

"I went to confession today," I tell her.

I'm not sure what effect I thought these words would have, but I was unprepared for the look of alarm in Claire's eyes. They are wide with fear, her whole body is stiff with shock.

'She thinks I'm breaking it off,' I realize, my body going cold.

I jump up and Claire looks confused, her eyes a little panicked, but when I straddle her, climbing into her lap and wrapping my legs and arms around her, resting my chin on her neck.

"It's not like that," I whisper, into her ear. "It's nothing like that, I swear. He's an old friend of my mother, he was wonderful. He told me God is love-"

I can feel her alarm growing but I don't know how else to explain myself; have no idea what I'm saying. I know I sound like a Jesus freak, but can't stop myself.

"I just needed someone to talk to... about us," I admit. "Someone I could trust."

She feels so tense in my arms and for a moment I think she's going to push me away, that she's going to send me home. But instead I feel her kiss me on my ear. I realize I'd been gripping her with all my strength, with the touch of her lips I relax and so does she.

Pulling back so she can see my eyes and I can see hers, I take a deep breath and start again.

"Both Kwasi and Wes... they know. I got so scared that they both knew."

"Did Wes see?!? Oh Jesus Sarah, was he upset?" she asks with fresh alarm. "Will he tell your parents?"

"No! No, he didn't, nothing like that. I'm positive he didn't see... me... us. It was other stuff he noticed... It doesn't matter. He likes you Claire. He likes us. He says I've never been so happy."

This makes her smile. I can see it pleases her to know Wes approves, that he likes her, but she still looks worried.

"And Kwasi?"

"All he said was he's happy for me." I blush, remembering how desperately I'd asked him not to tell.

Claire looks relieved, but worry still clouds her expression.

"I went to confession because everything felt so out of control all of the sudden. I've felt so paralyzed. I don't want to be paralyzed with you Claire. I never wanted to hurt or scare you."

I feel like I should say more, that I should explain myself, that I should admit what a fucked up, broken person I am. I want to tell her how I feel about her. But I think of the two of us pretending nothing is happening, of how she looked at me when I told her God is love... I'm afraid she will think I'm crazy, that I will make things worse, scare her away. So instead I am watching Claire's face as emotions wash her features. As her worry gives way to something like sorrow and then her sorrow melts to an expression so kind I want to kiss her, and I do.

My kisses are chaste. I kiss her on each cheek, and then again, but more slowly. Our eyes are open and she is watching me as I do. Her eyes follow me as I move back and forth. I touch her lips with mine and hold them there, waiting. My face pressed against hers. There is a mischievous look in her eyes that makes me smile, and she smiles with me, and as we do our tongues reach for each other, touching in passing, as our kiss deepens and grows fierce.

Claire is holding me tight, her hands are under the robe and squeezing my bare ass. The robe was only ever pulled closed and now has fallen open. I am naked against her, straddling her lap, grinding my crotch into her belly.

"Sarah," she whispers. "May I kiss your pussy?"

I think of Darci. How I'd told myself girls don't count. How wild she'd been, how we'd shrieked. Claire is beseeching, her whole manner is gentle and sincere.

'Claire isn't Darci,' I tell myself, picturing my mother, wondering what she will think. I shudder, shaking the thought away. Claire looks at me confused.

"I only want to kiss it," she says, almost apologetically.

'Claire does count,' I think, 'Claire is real.'

I nod yes, pulling the robe open, letting her see me.

"Just a kiss," she promises, lifting me up so I start to stand on the cushions, but she pivots me and lowers me again, so I'm sitting behind her on the raised back of the sofa, my boots to either side of her. She settles me there, and pets my skin. Her face is tantalizingly close to my belly. "I promise I will only kiss."

She is sitting with her legs curled up next to her on the sofa, looking up at me, her expression earnest and kind. She looks like a girl, kneeling between my legs; so expectant and pure.

'She's not using me,' I tell myself, remembering how beautiful Darci had looked as Kwasi fucked her from behind, how close our faces had been, how I'd watched her every fraction of expression, the feeling of him pushing her body against mine. I had watched Darci's face for some sign that she loved me, but I'd seen her disappear into herself, into her own pleasure, watched her forget mine, forget me.

'Claire really wants this.'

I nod again. Her mouth is close enough to my pussy that I can feel the heat of her breath. My heart is racing; tiny fluttering beats.

"Please kiss my pussy Claire."

She smiles, placing her hands on my inner thighs, and staring into my eyes, she leans forward and kisses me on the lips.

Looking down on her, her thick hair in my hands, her face, her long lashes, her thick lips touching mine. I've never seen anything so beautiful, I've never felt so beautiful. I think of Claire asking me why it was so hard, "to find someone who makes me feel beautiful and loved."

"Was that nice?" she asks with an encouraging smile. "Do you like this? May I kiss you again?"

"Yes, very nice Claire," I admit softly, and it's true. It feels easy and light, it feels profound and loving. I feel beautiful and loved.

"I like this very much," I tell her. "Please Claire, kiss me again."

This time, her hands push my thighs even further apart and spread me wide. I am open and wet. She leans in and kisses me. When she sits back and looks up at me her lips glisten with the kiss. My heart is thundering now, like hooves crashing on a track.

"Again?"

"Yes."

She kisses me again, looking to me for approval. I nod and she begins to kiss me over and over. Her pursed lips touch my labia over and over, her head moving back and forth, her chin rising and falling as she kisses every part of me, until finally her lips stop on my clitoris, pressing and pinching it.

I moan and she stops, looking up at me, her lips shining with my cum.

"Sarah, may I lick you? May I taste your pussy?"

When I'd gone down on Claire she had pulled at me, tried to stop me. I'd felt so desperate, so wanton. I'd been frantic to lick her, to make her cum; like a whore. This is so different, so gentle and kind.

"Please," I say.

My voice is strange. Not shaking, but fluttering. I can feel my diaphragm flutter. I am gripping the back of the sofa with all my strength. My skin is hot. I'm certain Claire can hear my heart.

She leans forward, tongue out for me to see. Her eyes look up at me as she drags it slowly upward between my lips. I suck in air sharply, my hips roll to push my pussy towards her mouth. But Claire sits back.

"You taste good Sarah."

She licks her lips; her tongue rolling around her lips before she bites her bottom lip, her eyes soft, warm with affection.

"May I have another taste?"

"You're teasing me," I whine.

"No!" she says, smiling. And then after a mischievous pause, "Well... perhaps a little. But I really want another taste, and I really want to do this at your pace. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

I force myself to loosen my grip on the sofa back, to try and relax. My skin is prickling with heat. My face burns.

"You haven't told me why you... hesitate." Claire's chin is wet. I am dripping. My breasts ache, my nipples are so swollen and dark they look bruised.

"Can you tell me about it?" she asks, looking up at me. She is so elegant in her silk lounge set. Her bare feet folded next to her look... prim. Even after all the crying Claire still looks glamorous - not in spite of the tears, but somehow even more beautiful because of the tears. Her face is a ghostly pallor, like I am looking through her, but her cheeks are flush, like I can almost see the blood rising from the depths. Her lips are red and her eyes sparkle. I think of nineteenth century women idealizing the beauty of tuberculosis. She is my Brontë, my Violetta.

I picture Darci, her dark vigorous beauty, so different from Claire in every way. I remember how she had stopped licking me and purred as Kwasi fucked her from behind. But I remember how sad she had looked after he came. She'd seen in my eyes what was happening with Kwasi, that it was me he was looking at.

'I don't want to hurt Claire,' I think.

"I don't want... to disappoint you," I tell her.

"How would you possibly disappoint me?"

'I'm going to drive her away.' The thought shocks me, frightens me.

"What if you don't like it?" I ask. Again I thought of Darci, pulling a hair from her mouth in distaste.

"Do you like doing it?"

I think of Claire cumming, the feeling of her in my hands and mouth, the clear hilarity of her joy, the absolute beauty of her crisis.

"Yes?" I concede, trying to imagine her enjoying me in this same way. I try not to let my self consciousness swamp me. I want to be what she wants. It doesn't matter. My head is so tangled and bound by fears and neurosis, but my body isn't. My body wants her, wants her desperately.

I'm gripping the back of the sofa again, and spreading my legs painfully wide. My ass is floating in the air, trying to move my pussy closer to Claire's mouth. That more than anything I want to take Claire by the hair, push her face into my cunt and grind against her.

"Nnnnng..." I whine. I can't help myself. The sound comes from somewhere deep, somewhere buried.

"Please Claire..." I plead, sounding petulant.

"Then why wouldn't I?" she asks, ignoring me. Ignoring my squirming and whining. She's staring up at me, so earnest, so serious. I want to answer her, to explain... but don't know how to.

I picture the awful silence that had ended my friendship with Darci. Remembering how lonely the bus ride back to Brown had been. How awkward things had been with Kwasi for months. Until that trip I had finally felt like I was finding myself at Brown. I'd had that wild summer leading up to junior year, the summer Wes had called "the summer I didn't come home". And then I'd become friends with Darci... until that stupid fucking game. I'd isolated myself after that, redoubled my commitment to Danny and buried myself in work.

'Claire's not Darci.'

My face feels hot. She's so close to me. I shrug the robe off my shoulders, let it slide off my arms. I love being naked for her. I love how she is looking at me. I love how much she admires my body. I look at my reflection in Claire's windows. All I'm wearing now are the fucking boots. The buildings across the way sparkle and shine through my appearance in the dark glass.

'When had the rain stopped?' I wonder. Claire's breath is cool against my lips, still wet with her saliva.

I remember the first time she saw my pussy, how she had watched me. I remember how it felt to move my hand and show her that I had shaved, and how pleased she had been.

"Oh Sarah," she had gushed, "t'es très belle."

I look down at her, kneeling between my legs thinking, 'elle est très belle.'

I'm starting to tremble.

"What if... what if I don't... what if I can't cum for you?" I finally admit.

Claire is looking up at me, her brows knit, her hands are still resting on my inner thighs, she is petting them absentmindedly. Her mouth is still so close to my pussy I can feel her breath. It feels wonderfully cool against my feverish skin. I'm trying not to roll my hips, trying not to push my cunt in her face. She takes no notice of my struggles. Nodding, she seems to concede the point.

"Fair enough, how about this?" Claire asks, leaning in. Her mouth hovering in front of my spread lips, I am so sensitive I can feel the vibration of her voice as she explains, "I've never eaten pussy Sarah, I want to try. What if you let me eat your pussy but I don't even try to make you cum?"

I had been so desperate to make her cum. I had needed it.

"You're teasing me again."

"Maybe a little? But I very much want to make love to you with my mouth, I want to taste you and drink from you... tu es la verre, Young Sarah. And I promise I won't be disappointed if you don't cum. I just want to make love to you, for you to feel me make love to you, to know how much I want to please you."

Her words electrify me, each time she says the word "love" I feel a jolt.

"I want that too," I whisper.

Claire slips her arms under my thighs, and reaches up and around to take hold of my waist. Her fingers grip me.

"I don't want you to fall," she tells me, her eyes glittering with delight. Her lips graze mine. "Do you want to call me a whore while I lick your pretty bald pussy?"

"Just fucking do it... bitch!" I'm laughing as I say it, but the swearing feels hollow and silly coming from me, has none of the fire she has when she swears at me. It doesn't matter. She's so beautiful, and my body takes over.

I lift my ass up and push my cunt towards her mouth. Claire is laughing in surprise as my lips make contact with hers.

I bite my lip, smiling down at her as she opens her mouth, and presses her lips and tongue into me.

"Jesus!"

The touch of her tongue sends a jolt through me, it feels like something liquid caressing me. My whole body is shaking and jerking.

She smiles wickedly at my reaction, her teeth open and tongue lashing. She looks so pleased with herself, so proud. "I told you so!" Her eyes seem to say.

"Do you like how I taste?"

My voice surprises me, it's deep and throaty.

Claire starts to move her mouth away so she can answer, but I thrust my cunt forward again.

"Don't fucking talk, show me!"

This isn't like before. These words don't sound hollow, I watch their effect on her. Her eyes go wide with renewed surprise, I see her thrill at me talking this way. She latches onto my clit, and starts to nod her head, pulling at me with each nod. I feel her smile against me, and then her tongue pushes out and in. She takes long slow licks starting deep inside and sliding up over my hooded clit.

I want to say more, to call her names, to talk dirty for her, but I'm looking down on her thick lips sucking at me, her beauty stops me short, her eyes looking back up at me adoring.

"You are so beautiful Claire," I say as I run my fingers through her hair and stroke her cheeks. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. I feel like I'm in a dream watching you do this."

Claire is drawing in her cheeks, gently sucking me. Her long lashes veil her eyes but she is looking up at me. Even after all the tears they glitter and dance. She sucks harder and my chin jerks up. I've tried so hard not to fantasize about this, to not imagine how it would feel, to not want this. But Ido fantasize about this, brief glimpses before denying myself, pushing the thought away. But this doesn't stop, this is happening, this is unlike anything I dared imagine.

I open my eyes and look at us in the reflection in the window. We are perfectly framed in the enormous sheet of glass. Me, seated, arms and legs spread - like some sort of obscene queen. Claire, on her heels, like a servant - her round ass hanging off the edge of the sofa. The apartment across the way is dark, it's not late. I wonder about the smoker.

"I fantasized about you on the first night we met." I tell her. Setting my ass back down and putting a hand on the back of her head, holding her to me. "I fantasized that I watched your date eat you out on a big white sofa."

She's looking up at me, her eyes shining. I can tell she's curious, wants to know more, but she doesn't stop sucking me, her tongue working against me.

'I'm hers,' I think, but for some reason I'm thinking of Darci. I shake my head to clear it, to return myself to the moment, to Claire. She's looking up at me, taking long licks with her tongue spread wide. I shiver.

"You were naked," I tell her. "Your legs were spread wide, like I am, and he was fully dressed like you are... But he was on the floor and in a suit"