Kinky Confessions

“I don’t know what made me think of it,” I mused. “Just… sometimes you seem like Birdy. Or Bunny or Little Bit or Sunshine.” I chuckled. “I have more nicknames for you than all my other girlfriends combined.”

“All your past girlfriends,” she corrected.

“Ha! And I’m supposed to be good with words?”

“You’re good with them most of the time.” She hugged me tight and pressed her face to my chest. “Thank you for understanding about Trip. I never gave him permission to control me.”

“Can anyone control you? I mean, for real?”

“You can.” She looked up and met my eyes. “I’m serious. You can do anything you want.”

“So… if I told you to have sex with Trip?”

“I’d do it. But I know you won’t. You respect me. That’s why I let you control me.”

“A relationship is like a building,” I said. “If you lay the foundation right, it’ll last forever.”

“Well, you certainly laid me right. And I’m hoping you’ll do it again.

Over and over.”

“I plan to. So let’s talk about that…” I thought for a moment. “Why don’t you wear your bodystocking tonight?”

“Ooh, I like that one. It makes me feel all sleek and sexy. And you like it

’cause it’s crotchless.”

“I like it ’cause you’re in it. Now, finish your lotions and potions. I’ll be waiting in bed.”

“I’m ready,” Christy said from behind the half-open closet door. She’d gone in there so I wouldn’t see her wriggle into the bodystocking.

I set my book aside and scooted to the center of the bed. “Me too.”

She stepped into view and turned off the closet light. The bodystocking was a second skin, so she didn’t need the backlight to show off her figure.

Instead, she wanted the light from the bedside lamp, which highlighted her nipples through the sheer black fabric and cast a shadow along her bare slit.

A distracted part of me marveled at how she used light and shadow without even thinking about it.

“Wow,” I said, “that’s sexy.”

“Thank you. You’re pretty sexy yourself, especially in your birthday suit.” She climbed onto the bed and crawled toward me. Then she nudged my legs apart and settled on her stomach between them. “Hello, Mr. Penis. I missed you today, but we had to do our school stuff. You understand. I’ll make it up to you, though.”

“He was hoping you would. As a matter of fact,” I added, “he wants to talk about something.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He’s hoping you’ll learn how to deep throat.”

“Ooh, that’ll be fun!” She shifted her attention from him to me. “Only, I

don’t know how. I mean, duh, the ‘deep’ part is obvious. The ‘throat’ part gets a little scary, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m willing to try, but…

please don’t be upset if I can’t do it.”

“I think you can. It just takes practice.”

“Do you know anyone who gives lessons?” she asked flippantly. “Maybe I can join a team or something?”

“Sure, Team Hughes.”

“Team Hughes? Like—?” Her eyes flew wide. “Oh my gosh! Do you mean what I think you do?”

“That depends,” I said coyly. “What do you think I mean?”

“That Erin— and your mother! Oh— my— gosh! Paul, are you serious?”

“Mmm hmm. I’m sure they’d be happy to give you some pointers.”

“No. Absolutely not. Never in a million years. I can’t ask your mother for advice on how to deep throat her own son.”

“Then ask Erin. She’s pretty good at it.”

Christy buried her face in her hands. “Why do you do this to me?”

“Do what?”

“Feed my imagination. I don’t need help, you know! And I shouldn’t get this worked up about asking Erin for advice. But she’ll ask why, and I’ll tell her. She’ll offer to demonstrate, and I’ll want to watch. I’m serious, Paul. I think of a new fantasy every time you mention her. It’s starting to drive me crazy!”

I chuckled.

She lifted her head and faux-glared. “Laugh all you like. This is easy for you. But I wasn’t raised like you.”

“I know. But you aren’t the same innocent girl you were six months ago, either.”

“I wasn’t so innocent,” she said darkly, “even back then. I was still thinking about this stuff. I just didn’t realize you were too.” She exhaled slowly and stared into space. “Sometimes it feels weird to share my fantasies.

It isn’t real if it stays in my head. You know? Like my art. And, like my art,”

she continued, “I feel like people are going to judge me if I make things real, if I talk about my fantasies. Does that make sense?”

I didn’t even have to work through the Christy-logic that time. “Yeah, it does. But you actually share your art with the world. Our sex life and fantasies are private, just between us.”

“Not really. We sort of have a private collection. With certain people, I

mean.”

“True. Not of art,” I said, “but sex.”

“Mmm hmm. Brooke knows. Erin will know. Wren knows. Some of it, at least. The vanilla stuff like swinging. Trip, Leah, Mark… the list goes on!”

“Okay, so we have a small circle of friends who know more than the general public. But they won’t judge us ’cause they’re like us.”

“I don’t think anyone’s like us,” she said. “Not like you and me, I mean.”

“No, probably not. That’s why we fit so well together.”