Primal Scream (Box Set #1, Taboo Sex + AFF) (40 page)

The boys climaxed with an almighty shout, drained, overheated, and a bit sore from all the action.

“
Your turn,” Brett picked himself up from the floor. He pulled a chair over to sit beside Marc, as both boys watched both girls sitting demurely on the couch, still in uniform.

“
No anal?” Chantal asked. She hoped she didn’t sound rude and they wouldn’t take it the wrong way, that she was being stuck-up instead of curious.

“
Yeah, that’s porn…there’s porn, and what people like to do,” Brett said. “Porn is a business, an industry.”

“
The sensations are more important…” Marc quipped.

And mutual satisfaction,
Aisyah thought.

They all saw and witnessed it, how the desire for someone of their own gender seemed to enhance the masculine and feminine appeal of the guys and girls respectively. Each individual’s unique sexual identity seemed enhanced too—Marc and Aisyah with their androgynous ways, Brett with his dominant nature, Chantal and her search for somebody (or some people) to lead and guide her.

Each of them, with their bisexual tendencies, brought out the masculine and feminine aspects of each other, making the whole experience a more positive one for all the four involved. It was about setting aside their differences, or making their differences work—celebrating it not fighting it—and allowing for some play and adventure, the best fun they could ever have.

And one of Chantal’s Revelations centered on the politics of penetration. There was very little penetration going on, actually, between the guys, between her and Chantal, between her and Brett (so far). So was it all still real sex? Everyone equated sex to porn nowadays. But there was a world of erotic pleasures, consisting of touches, kisses, lascivious looks, body rubbings. She didn’t want to limit herself, at her own expense.

Maybe all the stress I’ve been through so far has been worth it,
Chantal said to herself, remembering a quote:

Be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have to endure many trials for a little while.

-- (1 Peter 1:6)

Aisyah made a move first—
thank God,
Chantal thought, or they could’ve sat there for hours. Aisyah was driven by the “lezz” power she’d been adhering to for so long. Chantal and she couldn’t lose out to a couple of guys. Aisyah was into competitive sports anyway. She liked winning whenever she could.

The girls started off with kissing too—Aisyah sat astride Chantal after a while, causing Brett and Marc to have to shift their seats if they wanted a better look. The boys had put their crumpled boxers over their laps, as if to keep their dicks from disrupting the lovely sight of two girls having sex with each other.

Brett’s cock gave a jump when Aisyah lifted up Chantal’s skirt—he loved their underwear. Aisyah had on a black bandeau bra, while Chantal’s was more flirty and feminine and colorful.

Brett and Marc quietly watched as the girls took turns softly exploring each other’s breasts and bodies—softness, so much amazing, tantalizing, sweet softness—Chantal’s firm breasts, matching her round and tight ass, with Aisyah’s skinnier body, which was a bit like a boy’s save for the shape of her hips and thighs. It took a girl to really know how to pleasure another girl.

Aisyah and Chantal were both thinking that the guys were gonna barge in and interrupt right when they were getting high. They thought the boys would force them to start pleasing their dicks, to show them the power of their cocks. Because that’s what some males thought, that females couldn’t satisfy themselves…that they’d still need cock…but to their shock and surprise, Brett and Marc just sat there, studying and carefully observing what made each girl tick.

Both Aisyah and Chantal had inserted their own fingers before, but they had no need to now as they were already sending each other over the edge by eating each other’s pussy. Aisyah was flipped over Chantal, in a position which a person with a weak lower back would have trouble sustaining, balancing on her lithe but strong shoulders, with her ankles and shins resting atop the couch by the sides of Chantal’s head, as she tasted the juicy sweetness of her BFF.

She kicked herself off the seat, and straddled across Chantal like a man, so much body rubbing, Brett wondered if they’d catch on fire, before Aisyah started riding her really hard and intense, Chantal taking it like the good receptive partner she was.

They quietened down when Brett’s 28-year-old neighbor came home from work. The neighbor had taken out her keys, and stalled at her doorway, before coming over to the door of Brett’s unit.

The neighbor called his home number.

“
Hello?”

Marc and the two girls watched a twisted smile come over Brett’s face.

“
Everything’s alright, Anna…no problem!”

Brett went back to his seat. “She said it sounded like there’s a murder’s going on in here.”

Both couples—Marc and Brett, and Aisyah and Chantal—lay down, exhausted, but accomplished, and abuzz with the intensity of their reinforced friendships.

Brett had made the distinction long ago, between pornography and sex in real life. He thought people often had it all mixed up—the masses thought fluffy romance and suffered from the “happily ever after” syndrome to be Real Love, while whatever was depicted in porn and by the mass media was considered to be Real Sex. It was the physical/mental/spiritual/emotional bond, which was more than narrowing sex down to a specific act or sexual position.

The guys softly rolled around with the girls’ bodies…centimeter by centimeter, always responding to the girls’ body’s movements.

Brett sidled up next to Chantal, fondling her—the boys went all soft and gentle on the girls, just like they’d watched. It surprised the girls and made them more willing to please the dudes back.

Brett was seated upright on the leather couch, kissing Chantal, while Aisyah rubbed her nipples against Chantal, doubling their pleasure as Marc massaged Aisyah’s calves, before sucking on her cute toes.

They stayed that way for a while, like they were all wrapped up in a rush of blood sugar sex magic.

Marc ate Aisyah out first. She was used to being “the man,” and enjoyed the change of pace. He started off slow…but started to go longer and deeper, sliding his wet tongue into Aisyah—she liked it, and softly massaged his neck with her thighs and rocked against him, encouraging him to keep up the good work. He was dying for Aisyah to ride him hard and fast, like she had with Chantal. She would, later.

Chantal had been sitting on Brett’s lap, facing him, when she slid her body down and went to the floor on her knees, eyes on Brett and only him when she wrapped her moist lips around his dick. She was on her knees in reverence, in awe—they had both never felt so alive before.

He leaned forward when he was about to come, squeezing her tits…and came on her neck, christening her with a pearl necklace. She loved it, remembering a refrain one of her friends would always chant now and then:

Good girls think they’re not fully dressed without a strand of pearls

Bad girls think they’re fully dressed with just a strand of pearls

Naughty girls want a ‘pearl necklace’.

The two guys had been lured in by the stereotype of Catholic school girls. Most men wished for a bad girl, for a woman that was a devil in bed, with a lot of sexual energy, dirty fantasies, and not shy to try things.

“
What we want, we get. What we do, we do better than everyone,” Aisyah had said earlier.

Chantal was so proud to be a Catholic school girl.

* * *

Chapter 6

Brett jumped up from the couch when he heard a set of keys jangling outside the door—“Go, go, go!”—he shoved the girls’ uniforms into their arms, kicked Marc off from the ground, and slipped his boxers on while he reached for the remote to turn on the TV. He’d remembered to lock the gate 3 times and the door, so his mother would have to get through all three locks then they’ve cleaned up and are all walking out when his hot mom came walking in…

Brett thought of the scenario, had they lay around in bed till his mom really did come home. God, Brett had to have Chantal down in doggy style, her ass spread out in front of him—he couldn’t die a happy man otherwise.

He was looking for sexual compatibility…someone into kink…who’d let him lead…who wasn’t a drama queen…but into excess…and it was an added bonus that Chantal was Catholic, and appreciative of his spiritual views. It was like a dream that he could find someone to lead out, and lead away into the real world!

The foursome left before Brett’s parents could come over to check out the new condo, and after Brett had “freshened up” the air with some Febreze (to get rid of the telltale musky scent that permeated the air).

It was strange but calming, the dynamics that were going on between them. The strengthened friendship between each same-gender couple, Aisyah’s dom tendencies working nicely with Marc’s drives, Brett being almost everything Chantal thought “the Speedos boy” would be, and more.

They walked ahead in a daze/haze to the nearby McDonald’s at Siglap Centre, a small shopping mall near Hacienda Grove. They felt like real men and women, who were all in touch with their true inner sexuality.

The guys walked ahead for a bit, as the group crossed the road before Siglap Centre.

“
Would you have sex with Brett?” Chantal asked Aisyah.

“
Maybe sometime—would you get jealous?” Aisyah replied. “But I prefer Marc…he’s more my…
type.
”

“
I hope not…” Chantal liked sharing. “I’ll let you know if I feel that way.”

“
Okay.”

Chantal imagined it, clearly, as if in a trance. “Well, there’ll always be someone for one of us!” That was the good thing about a foursome—there’d always be someone/something for someone to play with.

“
Okay—we’ll let them know.”

As a group, they agreed to slowly explore and enjoy it. There was drama like the sort people viewed on reality TV shows, and/or fabricated “reality shows,” versus their own reality.

“
Any point it stops being fun, it’s over,” said Brett, who inspired them to be committed to making it work.

They did their homework, which included permutation in mathematics—the arrangement of objects in different orders. They all ended up permutating the various combinations of their foursome relationship.

Being part of a foursome was a kind of “fuck you” to the world and their strict upbringing, for Brett and Chantal. Chantal now realized why institutions wanted to control sex, because once that aspect of a person was controlled, controlling the rest of the person was easy. Addressing the issues with sex was out of the question for institutions like the Church, which wanted to maintain control of men and women by harnessing and controlling their sexual desires. People in authority never wanted people to be able to have the ability to think for themselves. It would be a threat to those in authority.

Now, what Chantal did was on her own terms. There was no remorse. No guilt. No need for any absolution/confession.

For the first time in her life, she felt fully alive—and in a more real kind of way, than how she’d felt in previous Fully Alive weekend camps she had attended.

“
I’ve never attended it,” Brett told Chantal, when she asked him about it. “My spirit’s on fire and I feel alive enough during sex. Maybe the church sees sex as competition—they want people to focus on God, and God alone. I’m not giving up my sex life for religion.”

Chantal realized that to deny her own impulses was to deny the very thing that made her human. Chantal rebelled—she now chose to shut herself off from religion. Sure, she’d still attend church and catechism lessons while she still had to, but only out of obligation. She had been made to shut off her sexual impulses and drives for long enough. And while she didn’t judge others for wanting to be religious, she damn well was going to stick with what she felt was best for herself.

Like Brett, she rebelled by rejecting being brainwashed…by being autonomous in a world that was forcing her all the time to conform. The foursome was a symbol of her ‘success’ at not having her sex life dictated by religion-based morality.

It was understandable that people would bow to authority figures, but that didn’t mean that the average woman or man should. What sane person would willingly subscribe to a One True Religion where they were perpetually to come to God as filthy, dirty, rotten, guilty sinners in need of salvation?

Instead, Chantal had to ask herself whether she really wanted to be allowed to be herself as sexual being, or not explore her sexual side at all for as long as she let religion rule her life. If she did, then she felt like she would be bending to sexist and ageist ideals. And obedience against her own desires, against her own autonomy, against her own self as an individual human being, wasn’t a good state to be in, in her opinion.