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                                 Charisse

                          by Vivian Darkbloom

   Charisse was the cheerful light-hearted one in my yoga class,
   with skin the color of mocha latte, and a festive abundance of
   dark curly hair. The teacher was lecturing on brahmacharya that
   warm spring day, that noble limb of the discipline of Yoga
   wherein one abstains from sexual activity. As the teacher herself
   was abstinent, and her words of admonition were soon lost in my
   brain amongst the fragrances of blooming jasmine and roses, and
   the smile of Charisse.

   The talk of abstinence of course heightened and tightened the
   sexual tension in the room, and I forced myself not to stare at
   the skin revealed by Charisse's low-cut blouse, as she did her
   vrkshasana and bhujangasana, the tree and the serpent, the latter
   with her beautifully perfect breasts jutting out invitingly. And
   while the teacher blathered about preservation of retus which
   (she explained) means sperm, I couldn't get my mind away from the
   image of slathering Charisse's mammaries with my own. To make
   matters worse, Charisse turned to me, smiled and winked.

   At the end of class, after the practice favorite posture,
   shivasana, and the fifteen or so people in the class were putting
   away the mats and so on, when I found myself in line behind
   Charisse's shapely backside. The scent of her sweet perspiration
   overcame me, and I blurted out: "So would you like to get some
   tea or something?"

   Charisse turned smiled at me. "So you think I'm in the tea party
   or something?"

   "Um no," I stammered. "I just meant. . ."

   "Sure, why don't you come on over?" she said, as simply as that.
   And soon there we were, riding our bicycles together down the
   street to Charisse's house. And then, sitting in her lovely
   kitchen table, with the cheery yellow tablecloth and the window
   looking out onto the garden with wisteria and fuchsia. The tea
   she gave me was ginseng and ginger, "An aphrodisiac," she noted,
   "as if you need one."

   "Am I that obvious?" I said.

   "Well, with all that talk of abstinence. How could one avoid
   wanting to have sex?" She fiddled with the straps of her blouse
   in a way that filled me with desire. "Really," she continued. "I
   think one must."

   Which made me curious. "Do you do this all the time? Take strange
   men home from yoga class?"

   She smiled playfully. "Actually, I prefer women. But you seem
   like a nice guy."

   And there it was.

   "My housemate is gone," she said. "We don't have to worry about
   making noise."

   And we continued drinking our tea, as calmly as if the past few
   paragraphs had never been spoken. She chatted casually about life
   as a student, and about working as a nurse to put herself through
   school. Soon our tea was gone, and we were looking at the bare
   bottoms of the two cups.

   "So, would you like to come up and see my room?" she asked.

   I stood up, perhaps a little too abruptly to be polite. She leapt
   up herself, and was bounding up the carpeted square spiral of
   steps, down the hall to the room with the skull on the door, and
   entering impatiently fell on the bed together, kissing and
   caressing. Her top came off shortly thereafter, and so did mine.
   I felt so enormous that I could hardly hold back, but I didn't
   want to get ahead of the correct protocols.

   "There's something I want to try," she whispered with a sly grin.
   "I never have before."

   "What's that?" I asked.

   "Promise you won't laugh?"

   Now I was curious. "Promise," I said smiling.

   She scooched over and whispered in my ear: "I want it in my ass."

   I had never tried it either. I shrugged. "Why not? I need some
   protection. . ."

   She opened a table drawer beside the bed and handed me a condom.
   Other mechanics were involved: lubricant, which she also
   supplied. She had planned it all out. My hardon was unrelenting,
   and soon I felt myself being squeezed by the tight ring of her
   anus.

   "Oh, this is the place nobody ever touches," she said, smiling.
   "It's so intimate." And she just lay there enjoying the
   sensation, without any particular sexuality in her response.

   I, on the other hand, could not help myself. The power of the
   drive I felt was enormous. At that moment, someone could have
   offered me millions of dollars, and I would have said `no.' So
   deep and intense was my focus on her, and my anticipation of
   having an orgasm inside of her most secret orifice. Mine and mine
   alone.

   And when I came, it was in powerful bursts of semen, spurting
   forth from the tip of my penis. She sighed, and when I was done
   looked back at me with a satisfied smile.

   We lay together awhile, after I had taken off the fouled rubber,
   and then we both found ourselves in the bathroom next door.
   Carefully she soaped off my organ. "I hate the taste of latex,"
   she explained. Apparently, her project of the afternoon was
   pleasing me.

   Once again I found myself enormous, now in her face, as she lay
   supine looking up at me. I loved the way she kissed my large
   penis, how she ran her tongue along the edge of the tip, the
   place where the pee comes out, the bulbous head. To think that
   this very organ had just exploded inside her rear end. I guided
   her head by holding her head of bodacious curls, beautiful curls.
   Though I confess that my concentration was somewhat faulty this
   second time around, and the stiffness lagged briefly.

   At that point, there was a series of rhythmic thuds across the
   hallway floor, followed by the door slamming open and the
   entrance of two ten-year-old girls. "Charisse I was wondering if
   I could borrow your . . . oh my God, what are you doing?

   Charisse looked calmly up at the two girls. "I'm giving someone a
   blowjob. Do you mind?"

   The girl in front was thin and gangling with dirty blonde hair
   and oval wire-rimmed glasses. Her friend had dark hair, and
   carried a pink and purple electric guitar, an imitation of the
   Stratocaster.

   "Um, no, I don't mind," said the blonde girl.

   I noticed that the laxness I had experienced the moment before
   had faded. In fact, my penis was now embarrassingly erect. I
   wished that Charisse would put it back into her mouth, so that I
   would not be so exposed.

   Charisse had noticed as well. She looked up at me. "It turns you
   on, her seeing you, doesn't it?"

   "Um, can we watch?" asked the blonde girl.

   Charisse sighed with exasperation. "Yes, Lorelei, whatever. You
   may as well, I suppose. Would you please close the door?"

   I felt like I should say something. Her dark-haired friend shut
   the door, then sat down on a chair at the desk across from the
   bed, and began strumming her pink and purple guitar, singing
   lyrics that I couldn't hear. The strings vibrated quietly, but
   audibly, without their accustomed amplification. Lorelei came
   over and plunked down on the pillow at the head of the bed, right
   in front of me.

   I felt torn between two powerful forces. I knew I should have
   said something about how we shouldn't be doing this, but at the
   same time, the sexual charge was phenomenal. It was irresistible.

   "Don't worry, she won't tell anyone," reassured Charisse, and
   resumed what she had been doing.

   I gasped, looking across at the curious young eyes watching every
   movement through two ovaloid lenses of glass. She took off her
   shoes as I continued thrusting into the beautiful mouth below me.
   Then the young one before me took off her socks, and sat leaning
   back against the head of the bed, with her legs spread. With her
   dress thus lifted (I was in no mood to scold her for bad manners)
   her panties were clearly visible.

   And, as I lowered myself to avoid tiring out my arms, I found
   face only inches away from the center fold of her pubic region.
   Her bare skin glowed with the vibrance of youth, her bare feet on
   either side of me. Watching me with fascination, she thrust her
   pelvis subtly forward towards me. Meanwhile, her friend continued
   to strum, pausing occasionally to search for the right word.

   Again and again I felt myself on the edge of releasing, but it
   was not until I had lowered my lips to touch the pure white
   fabric before me, the sweet secret spot at the vertex of her two
   thighs, smelling the strange freshness, only imagining what lay
   beneath, that I found myself able to complete, and it was as I
   gently kissed the sacred white cotton that I relieved my sexual
   aching into the beautiful mouth enveloping my penis, the
   wonderful jungle of dark curls surrounding.

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