Xia - Saturday

Xinyi watched her prey across the bar. He was with a group of friends, but he sat slightly back and rarely said anything. He looked like he was trying to make himself small, like he didn't want to be noticed, not that there was much to him to begin with. His skin was a pretty tan but somehow also pasty, clearly the tone a blessing of his parents and not the sun. Subtly identifying him to her wife, she obtained the almost entirely disinterested permission just as expected. She rose to her full self, her 280 lbs of mostly thighs, tits, and muscle she reckoned double his size, all barely concealed in her loose blouse and flared midi skirt, and calmly descended on him, ready to own, shape and consume every defenseless inch of his body and mind.

Iniko's 21st birthday had passed alone. He'd finished binging some mediocre DC show, done a little work despite it being a Saturday, and had headed early to bed. Anna Diop had stirred him to being a little horny, and he'd briefly considered touching himself but the indelible memory of any number of his youth pastor's lessons had quickly put an end to that. Iniko was a proud virgin and intended to remain so until marriage. He'd had some interest from women in his community college, he wasn't bad looking and when anyone could get him talking his sharp observations of behavior could be deeply humorous, plus he was always patient in explaining how to get the most from the office software they were learning to use in their courses. He'd rejected them all, although he couldn't help but notice none of them were too disappointed. There had been enthusiastic interest from one man too, an awkward conversation which had been followed by far more nights of intense concentration on those stern words of the youth pastor then he cared to admit to himself, let alone anyone else. Iniko's relationship to homosexuality being complete denial and terror at the idea of having any such feelings himself, but without any cognitive dissonance full acceptance of the sexuality of others as none of his business, his strictly religious black mother having also instilled in him the inviolable value that he must never view anyone else as less than him, whether they'd found Jesus ("yet") or not.

The next week, one of his friends finally noticed and had dragged him out amid guilt all around. Iniko wasn't exactly antisocial, he did enjoy spending time around his friends and there seemed to be a respectable number of people interested in the position, he just rarely felt the need to instigate and easily fell to the edge of the group, as he had now. Of course, his rum-less coke wasn't doing anything to integrate him, while his friends did their best to respect his "pure" choices, those choices often created a distance between them, as now when no one quite knew how to celebrate the week-late 21st birthday of a man who was no more interested in a beer than he had been 8 days earlier.

He did not miss Xinyi's impossible-to-miss stroll towards him, but quickly looked away, neither wanting to impolitely stare nor feed his immediate response of fascination at her striking appearance. So when he looked up again to find she was right on top of him, he jumped, causing her to crack a smile he found somehow both humiliating and inviting. Without asking, she pitched on the stool next to him, seating turned towards him so her thigh pushed gently against his, the slight gap in her legs inviting his glance a distance up her skirt short of scandalous but definitely beyond chaste. She leaned into him as she introduced herself, causing him to abruptly shrink to avoid her breasts smooshing him, and she held that position, Iniko kept off-balance leaning unnaturally backwards while Xinyi seemed comfortably oblivious, just as she seemed oblivious to his struggle over the next hour of their conversation to stare as little as possible into her cleavage despite a nagging voice in the back of his mind that kept suggesting it looked like his entire self would fit comfortably in there.

Xinyi was, of course, keenly aware and indeed delighting in every dimension of the mental and physical predicaments she was imposing on the poor young man, who she learned over the course of the conversation was 6 years her junior and delightfully every bit the innocent repressed virgin she'd judged him to be.

Despite the trap slowly being sprung on him, the conversation was genuinely a pleasure for them both. Iniko felt a comfort with Xinyi he rarely felt around other people, and found himself disclosing much more of his personal history and feelings than usual. His physical discomfort at her casually filling his personal space with her sexuality was softened by the warming feeling of meeting her stunning dark eyes, framed by a streak of bright red hair and an ever-changing expressive smile. Xinyi was pleasantly surprised at how his perspective tickled her, she laughed often with sincerity (though she would have faked it if necessary) and was intrigued to hear the details of a view of the world she found completely alien and fascinating. They started to both feel the joy of a new friendship, and as she relaxed her invasion of his space just the tiniest amount, she was satisfied to feel him more-than closing the gap. Until after two hours she had one leg pushed fully against his, and torsos in ample contact (even Xinyi's lounging posture might fairly be described as 'tits first'). She touched him with the most gradual increase in intimacy at every opportunity, while expertly appearing casual. He had never felt such comfort with another person's body, never really felt any comfort. All the shame and guilt the church had worked so hard to instill in him was screaming best it could for him to run away. But it was muffled at the pleasure of her soft warmth, and he was able to dismiss the righteous screams as her touch stayed innocent, stayed comfortable even as it increased.

As they laughed together, shared secrets and enthused about their favorite art, he allowed his control over his gaze to relax, awed by the endless cleavage, the slight gap between the side of her breast and her bra strap and the curve of her upper arm, the was-it-slightly-further-this-time view up her thigh, the parting of her lips and the flick of her tongue, the almost black deep red of her nails, echoing her hair, as she slowly danced her hands to make a point, the matching toes peeking from her open flats.

"Well, I make myself orgasm at least once a day, usually more, it's often the happiest moment of my day. Today I masturbated right before leaving the house" With a jump out of his trance absorbing the fascinations of her body he realized the conversation had got away from him somehow. Her eyes caught his and held them, allowing him to process without hurry. He played back the last few minutes. He was mortified to realize he'd told her his entire (short) history of touching himself, how in middle school he'd made himself cum, how delighted he'd been at discovering this wonderful new pleasure and eagerly told all to the person he trusted the most, his youth pastor. He was completely unprepared for the response: treated with horror, lectured to, told he was in grave danger. How he'd been monitored closely all through high school, interrogated to ensure he hadn't "strayed back to the devil". How just rarely since in momentary loss of willpower he'd touched himself "down there" then after only a few seconds immediately shrink from himself in terror. His confession the next day earning of course another lecture and more strident monitoring. How he didn't even remember how it felt, the one time he'd released.

Xinyi had listened with care, hadn't made fun of him. He was terrified to be even mentioning masturbation in front of a woman let alone telling her his darkest secret. And as all that ran through his brain he was held in her gaze and found there acceptance, compassion and ... was that excitement?

She let his gaze free and steered the conversation to the safe shores of their favorite music, granting him a break with her little diatribe on how East Asians were the only people making real punk anymore and he realized that the shame he felt at revealing his sin was less than his relief. He recognized with gratitude how her subtle responses had welcomed his trust. He let it go and fell right back in to the joy of chatting with Xinyi, even as the bar filled and they had to lean ever closer to each other's ears to be heard. They shared a feeling of only partial belonging here in Chicago, both having moved at a young age, her from Hong Kong, him from Boston.

It had felt natural to Iniko to unlock and hand over his phone to exchange numbers when they mutually wished to continue the conversation, just as she'd handed him hers. He received the second of four great shocks of the evening. Her background was a photo of a stunningly beautiful woman, topless in panties, rock hard nipples and shapely hips and abs and fuck he didn't even know where to look and her radiant auburn hair flowing over one shoulder stopping just short of covering that nipple and her fierce green eyes and he blushed deeply as he felt Xinyi's finger playfully lifting his jaw to close his mouth. Once again she invited him back to safety, offering for their shared laughter a brutal read of the preppy couple they'd been mocking together all evening.

It was almost five hours after she'd first demanded entry into his life that he got the third and fourth shocks of the night. She gently interrupted with "sorry honey, I think that's my carriage home." As he turned to follow her gaze upward he saw the woman from Xinyi's phone, admittedly more dressed but no less stunning, commanding the room, she must have been just over six foot in her heels, and she was dressed more formally than anyone else in a velvety black dress, a swirl of fabric from her shoulder where it seemed an extension of that immaculate hair running around the dress just covering the top of a slit so high that as far as he could tell would have exposed her panties otherwise and he knew the devil was directing his thoughts now and he was just about to get control back he was sure when Xinyi stood and on tiptoes deeply kissed the woman for somewhere between 5 seconds and several days, Iniko wouldn't have dared to guess which. "... my wife" she told him as she turned to cover the gap between them, Iniko stumbling to his feet realizing he'd missed her name, "my new dear friend Iniko" she introduced him and he felt a rush of pride. "Mucho gusto" said Xinyi's wife, more formally than Xinyi's introduction had invited.

He thought through all this confusion that he had understood the rules of Xinyi's intimacy with him, and learning she was a married lesbian for a moment it all made perfect sense. She was warm, friendly, completely uninhibited about her body, and at the same time never flirty, hadn't given the impression she had any sexual interest in him. It was a relief to know where he stood.

As she turned to hug him goodbye, holding him tightly to her body with her strong arms (a milder earlier surprise had been learning she was a contractor, just as it was no surprise to anyone when he revealed he worked preparing presentations from spreadsheets). The tight hold was of course all sorts of body contact, tits and tummy and all over as she spoke into his ear "tonight you will be throbbing hard thinking of me. You may touch yourself, or refrain, for now that's your choice." And he gasped, struggling for breath as the married couple disappeared through the crowd.