Jiri lived at the university.
He was doing a science degree on a
scholarship, and was very bookish, and had stellar grades, but Jiri
had never kissed a girl.
The residences were co-ed, and he had a few friends. Most were his
fellow students, who appreciated working together with him to finish
their assignments. Some of them were female, and some of these really
liked Jiri, liked him a lot.
But Jiri could see that they only wanted him for his brains, which
seemed to him like an unsound basis for a relationship. How can
you
have a good relationship if the only thing you have in common with
your partner is some smarts? He hoped that, one day, he would find
a
girl that would want him for his body, for love, for sex. Oh,
she’d have to be smart, too, of course, but he really wanted to
share some spark of physical desire, of lust, of passion.
Jiri was not a prude. There were plenty of parties on his floor,
and
he enjoyed getting drunk or stoned, and having deep-and-meaningful
conversations late into the night. These spells of drunken intimacy
gave him some feeling of connection with his fellow human beings, and
he was content with his lot. But he never seemed to connect with
any
women.
Then Cindi moved on to the floor.
Cindi turned up in the middle of the year, from somewhere up north,
judging by her broad accent. She had put her name down early on Jiri’s
table
for the mid-year dinner, unseating someone else, and making herself
unpopular with the organizing forces in Jiri’s clique. So, even
before she had met anyone, she was on the wrong side of Jiri’s
friends.
She ended up sitting next to Jiri. She was tall, and a bit thin,
and
a bit gawky. She was obviously feeling a bit self-conscious, and
no
one else would talk to her, so Jiri tried to strike up a conversation,
out of politeness more than anything. She didn’t say much, and
soon Jiri was having a good time with his usual yabbering with his
friends, and he did not give her much thought. She slipped away
after
the meal, and nobody noticed her passing. Except for Jiri.
"She won't like it here," he thought.
He did not see her again until the following evening. Jiri was
working away on maths assignments, when a soft knock on his door
disturbed his concentration.
It was Cindi. Jiri didn’t really appreciate the intrusion, but,
feeling a little sorry for the new girl, let her in to sit on the bed
with him, the only seat to be had in his tiny room.
Cindi had brought her backgammon set. Jiri had enough curiosity
about his new acquaintance that he accepted her challenge graciously,
although he didn't expect to be away from his assignment for very
long.
Surprised, Jiri found himself enjoying Cindi’s company. Her
earnest, shy manner concealed a quick, dry, wit, and she was a good
player. They chattered on, and Jiri learnt that Cindi had been raised
in Cairns, and had until recently been at James Cook. Out of polite
interest he inquired about the reason for her switching to UNSW,
but she simply let the question hang, unanswered, until he
changed the subject.
It was after midnight before Jiri realized the time, and, with
lectures starting at 8am the next morning, Jiri suggested they call it
a night. Cindi agreed, and reaching over to him, gave his hand a
squeeze. Jiri was a little surprised at her touch; there was a real
warmth in her fingers, and they lingered, and Cindi stroked the back
of his hand. She looked at him then, with a quiet intensity that
surprised him, and he felt a jolt of desire beginning to call to him,
to fill him. Softly, she released him, gave him a peck on the cheek,
and left him.
The days after that were somewhat peculiar. After her faux pas at
the
dinner, none of Jiri’s friends showed the slightest interest in
getting any further acquainted with Cindi. Whenever Jiri sat down
at
Cindi’s table at dinner time, she would look a bit awkward, and
would clam up. In the end, he rejoined his usual dinner companions,
and left Cindi to eat pretty much by herself.
Most evenings, though, there would be that soft tap on the door, and
Cindi would slip into Jiri’s room, where they would play
backgammon, and talk. During the course of each evening, Cindi,
seemingly unconsciously, would softly cover Jiri’s hand with her
own. Jiri would let her gently turn his hand over, and she would
delicately stroke him with her fingers, her fingers tracing quiet
patterns on his palm, as if tracing out his life-line.
He came to enjoy the sound of her voice. Although the accent was
broad, he appreciated her candour and passions, and began to spend
longer and longer moments just listening to her views on life, with
that constant pleasure surrounding his hand, and the intensity of her
eyes.
These visits continued for several weeks, and Jiri grew to depend upon
them. He sometimes visited Cindi in her room, but this did not feel
right: he did not feel unwelcome, but these visits did not create the
sense of a new space in his life that her visits to his room had begun
to open.
To Jiri, tonight seemed an evening like any other. A long stretch
of
conversation, coffee, and backgammon stretched in front of them.
As
usual, Cindi had taken possession of Jiri’s hand. The simplicity
of Cindi’s actions belied the deliciousness of her touch. Tonight,
Jiri
found it hard to concentrate on the game, and after losing several, he
gave up. He found Cindi was staring at him, focussed on him, and
he
found himself examining the quiet intensity of that gaze. Jiri
thought he saw a flicker of something, perhaps triumph, and she
continued that gentle stroking.
It became a magical moment for Jiri. For the first time in his life
he
felt settled, centred, as he stared into those green eyes, that strong
face. Jiri was surprised that this lanky, awkward girl had become
an
object of desire, yet he found himself gazing at her, content in her
company, as her gentle caresses stirred his feelings as nothing else
ever had in his life. His erection blossomed inside his jeans, but
he
could pay the discomforting tightness little heed. Only as he
suddenly realized that Cindi was a potential girlfriend, did he begin to
see
that their relationship had already acquired a strength and permanence
that scared him quietly witless in its intensity.
“You know, Jiri, since I first saw you, I have felt a connection
with you, with your soul. Let me feel it, Jiri, let me touch you,
let
me caress your soul.”
Her hand gently moved up his arm then, never losing contact,
delicately tracing up his arm, leaving a pleasant tingling as it
passed. As it reached his temple, she moved over to him, straddling
him, sitting in his lap. Her hands began gentle, circular motions,
to
relax him, to quieten him. She brought her mouth close to his, and
Jiri, expecting a kiss, closed his eyes. But Cindi just continued
to
massage his face, and synchronized her breathing, letting warm air
fill Jiri as he breathed in, and taking his air as he breathed out.
“Let me hold your soul in my hands, Jiri, let me hold you. Just
let it out of your mouth, and I will hold it, I will protect you, I
will warm you”
Jiri was smitten. He did not really believe in souls, certainly
not in
souls that could be pulled out of his mouth, but Cindi’s delicate
attentions were having an undeniable affect on him. As Cindi’s
hands made a cup around his mouth, he slowly exhaled, and imagined
what it would feel like, were she really able to steal his essence so
completely.
Cindi smiled then, and, as if she were trapping a small mouse, she
raised her hands to her mouth and gently blew warm air into the space.
At first, Jiri felt shivers down his spine, but then a warmth began to
suffuse through his body, and he could feel his own love and affection
for this amazing woman, already so new to him, being supplemented by a
worshipful adoration.
He reached around her, and held her, and laid his head on her chest.
He felt her slowly closing one of her hands, closing it tight, and she
gently stroked his hair. Jiri’s heart was racing with desire, with
passion, but he did not want to move, did not want this moment to
change, did not want this moment to end.
After a time, Cindi whispered, “Let’s go to bed”
They both stood, and, somehow, while still holding each other, they
managed to get undressed. As she unbuttoned her blouse and reached
behind to remove the unnecessary bra, he could not help but stare at
her pink nipples. Soon he was openly staring at the dark wisp of
hair
peeking out from under her black lacy panties. As these, too,
disappeared, Cindi smiled at him.
“You know, this is the first time for me, too..."
As they enfolded themselves in the doona, Jiri let himself be enfolded
in her arms. Her soft breasts, although not substantial, felt deliciously
feminine against his back. Her flat tummy warmed him, and
her long legs crept between his own and, twining around him, kept him
immobile. He had never felt flesh so soft, so warm, so comfortable.
With gentle caresses, Cindi let one of her hands steal down his chest,
down his stomach. She gave a small sigh of appreciation as her hand
enfolded his penis, which had attained a considerable hardness, and
commenced a gentle pumping. Jiri could do little except bring one
of
his own hands behind to cup the softness of her bottom, and attempt to
draw her still closer to him.
Her other hand was still closed in a gentle fist.
Cindi brought it up to her lips, and, again, she breathed warm air
around its contents.
Jiri felt a burst of ecstasy as he imagined himself being inside of
her, penetrating her, possessing her.
Inhaling, she drew into her mouth whatever she had been holding so
tightly. Her pink tongue licked her lips as she rolled it
around inside. As her hand continued her moist pumping around his
manhood, she made a show of running her tongue around her mouth.
Imagining that his very essence was inside her, the pleasure of her
hand around his penis became all-encompassing as he felt himself
caressed and constrained all around.
As his hips began to strain against her, she held him tight against
herself. He made little grunts as he tried to move, as he tried
to reach
his peak. She hardly let him move, with her legs held fast around
his
own, one arm around his chest, and the other hand pumping him, filling
his world with pleasure.
With a scream of release, Jiri came, long jets of semen jetting from
his cock. He had never known such intensity. As the pulsing
subsided, Cindi continued to milk him.
“I love you, Jiri”, she whispered, mouth still full.