....Continued from The Old House: Hungry Cries
The shadow was that of a woman; she was swaying to the beat of claps. It was a lazy dance. Her hair was long and tousled, and she seemed to wear a loose robe. Below her was another figure.
Curious, Quito dug through the thick layers of fibers. It was a painstaking struggle, careful and unhurried so as not to distract the owners of the shadows. Upon reaching the last curtains, he made another sign of the cross, and through the breach between two fabrics, he peeped.
Only then he realized he was squatting a few feet away from the side of a huge bed. On the other side was a table where a candelabrum glowed brightly. Lying on the center of the bed was the figure he could now make out.
Muloy? he asked himself in disbelief.
Indeed, it was his neighbor, lying naked on the mattress, nude, with his masculinity upholding its full potential, its enormity shocked Quito. He was glossy from the oil sheathing his nakedness. He was grinning and clapping, while on the edge of the bed, a woman in night gown was dancing. With her tongue, she was teasing him as she performed.
Quito stared at them, confused and thrilled. The act was new to him. With Muloy’s loud concluding clap, the woman slipped the straps off her shoulder, and gracefully, the gown slithered off her body, revealing the ample lumps in her chest and the femininity inches below them. Quito gaped; it was his first time to see a naked woman in person. Stunning in her bronze skin, she kept mussing her hair as she continued her dance, now on her own hum. This made Muloy cheer.
This also affected Quito. He felt his whole body heating up, and looking down, he saw the inevitable swelling in his shorts. He felt embarrassed.
This also affected Quito. He felt his whole body heating up, and looking down, he saw the inevitable swelling in his shorts. He felt embarrassed.
He watched the show again. The woman kneeled and showered Muloy with kisses, first on his face, then on his neck, chest and lower. Quito gulped for air as her lips accomplished the culminating kiss.
Quito felt a different fear, a different chill, and a different excitement. He shut his eyes, not wanting to see the immorality. He wished to understanding the meaning of things. But he could not concentrate on his thoughts. He could not deny the tingling and burning in him, making his right hand unconsciously slid into his underwear to confront the bulge. He could not suppress the shameful joy in his heart. He could not even close his ears to the cries of pleasure the two humans were creating.
When he opened his eyes, the woman was lying with her head hanging off the edge of the bed. Muloy positioned himself above her, and with gross expertise, he planted himself into her that she moaned her submission. Together, they swayed, smooth like a river delineating its meanders, dynamic like a sea converging with the ocean. Together, they rolled and scuffed and bounced and cursed – she so small and vulnerable beneath his lean and sinewy muscles, and he so radiant and knightly above her savage delicateness. Together, they restudied the mysteries of the flesh. As the room was filled with the aroma of their sweat and fluids, the breathings of the two creatures echoed on the walls, chorusing with the music of all the hungry souls in the old house.
To be continued....
Image courtesy of Pixoto.
