0 comments/ 14146 views/ 0 favorites Ofelia Ch. 01 Pt. 09-11 By: CervanServidor ix. Ofelia took her bikini off and dried herself with a towel before slipping into some panties and sitting at her dresser with her cell-phone to her ear. When Leonard answered he seemed a little worried. "You just got home or what?" "Oh, no, no. We were down at the pool, swimming. We got back here at like, I don't know, six." "You went swimming?" "Yeah. It was boring, though. He doesn't like to swim a lot." "So now it's seven-thirty. You were down there for a while, huh?" "Yeah, just talking." "Did you have a nice time?" "It was okay." They talked some more, and after a while Leonard asked her, "So, did he try something with you?" Ofelia's voice raised, "Oh, yes. You were right. He did." Leonard paused for a moment, "Well, you gonna tell me about it now or.... I have time. It's not busy here at all." "Well, okay." Ofelia began, "There's a lot to tell. I mean, it wasn't like it usually is with guys. I think maybe he really has a crush on me. It wasn't like it was with Paul." "Paul has a huge crush on you, Ofelia." Leonard reminded her. "Oh I know, I mean, with Daniel, it's different. Like when he kisses me, it's more than just, like kid's stuff." "When he kisses you? Hmm. How much did he kiss you?" "Well, I told him he shouldn't but he did it a few times. I kept telling him I'm engaged, and all that, but he wouldn't listen." "What were you wearing at the pool? A bikini, I know, but which one?" Leonard asked her. He knew all of her bikinis, and begged to take a picture of her in one of them, but she flatly refused. She wouldn't let him take a picture of her in her panties either. "It was that one I just bought, the one that I was telling you about?" Ofelia replied, her voice sounding excited. "You know, it's sort of off-white, and really soft, kind of like silk?" Leonard was hurt but he tried not to let on, "Jeeez, Ofelia, I didn't even get to see you in that yet. No fair!" he giggled to show he was only kidding. "Don't worry, Querido, you'll see it!" Ofelia said, giggling too. "It looks really good on me! You should have seen Daniel's face when he saw me after I put it on! He couldn't even talk! Oh my goodness, he was totally staring at me, like up and down and all over. His eyes went everywhere." "I can imagine." Leonard said. Then he asked her, a slight quiver in his voice ( a quiver of excitement, not jealousy or worry. That sensation in his belly was taking the place of his natural sense of protectiveness and possessiveness, that quickening of the breath, that strange, intoxicating tickle in the groin): "So what else did he do besides kiss you?" Ofelia knew that tone of voice. It was the sign of an electrifying connection between her and her fiance, a plateau they could sometimes reach, if the circumstances were right, if they were in the right frame of mind. When she heard his question she felt herself moisten between her legs. Her nipples stood out, puffy and hard. "Oh, well..." she began, "In the car he put his hand on my leg, but I told him to stop. Then, in the pool, he felt my legs and my butt. I didn't let him keep doing it. I told him he was getting in trouble with me." "And what else?" "He squeezed my breasts." Ofelia said, "He pulled my top down so he could see, you know, the nipples. Too." "I don't blame him. So you let him do that?" "Only for like, a minute maybe." "Did he touch your breasts when he had your top down?" "Yeah, he did. But like, I didn't give him permission, he just did it. It's like you always say, you know, when you just have to see the nipples? I know how you guys are." "Yes, that you do." Leonard said. "Oh..." Ofelia said, after a pause. Leonard's heart started to beat faster again. "I forgot to tell you one other thing. In the pool, when we were swimming, he touched me between the legs. Not a lot, and just on the outside. He put his fingers under there, and tried to rub my...you know. He was like a little boy when I made him stop." "Uh-huh." "And his thing, you know, it was sticking out! Oh my goodness, Querido, you could see it even under the water, in his trunks. It was so big! I almost laughed. He was so embarrassed. He was acting like a little boy." "Big, huh?" Leonard said. Ofelia could hear his voice literally shrink on the phone. Ofelia had seen and touched Leonard's penis only a few times, and so she knew it was small, smaller than normal. In fact, it was all of four inches long. Ofelia always told him she didn't care, and she was telling the truth, but not in a way that would have made Leonard feel any better. "Very big!" Ofelia answered, forgetting herself for a moment. "It was..." She stopped suddenly. "Oh, you know what I mean, not like, his thing was big! Chale! I didn't see it, just how it was showing in his swim trunks. That's what I meant by big. Like when you say I have a big smile. It's not like my mouth is big or my lips are big! See what I mean?" "I know what you mean, Carina. I'm just giving you a hard time. Come on, don't you know me yet!" Leonard told her, and his voice was re-animated. He didn't want any signs of jealousy to spoil what he saw as very definite possibilities in this present situation. After all, he knew that the thing that turned him on more than anything else was the thought of his beloved being made love to by a man other than himself. He didn't fully understand why, but he had come to terms with this early on in their relationship. He had never heard of a cuckold before, or that being willingly cuckolded by one's wife was a fairly common fetish among men, but he would have been glad to know it wasn't just him. The truth was, Leonard did have feelings of jealousy, fueled by normal feelings of possessiveness; but his fetish had such an appetite he was able to strangle the former in the demands of the latter. He swallowed his pride in order to feel that state of physical and mental intoxication which only Ofelia's unfaithfulness could bring him to. Fantasy only went so far; but when fantasy was fed delicious morsels on a daily basis by reality, fantasy became stronger than reality. The truth was, Ofelia had been unfaithful to him, and not just once in a while, but always; and yet at the same time, she didn't regard her actions as being anything like infidelity, which to her meant literally having sex with someone else. She truly did want to marry Leonard, and truly did believe he was an excellent choice for a husband. She wanted him to be the father of her children. The problem was, it was almost entirely a practical decision for Ofelia, and not a romantic one. This was, however, not a problem for Ofelia. For Ofelia, romance had its place, but it was not necessarily in the home where it truly belonged. Romantic love, and all the poetic fuss over that, the passion, the lust, the fleeting encounters, the energy-charged physical exchanges: these weren't things that happened between a man and his wife, except perhaps at the very beginning of courtship. A marriage, to Ofelia, consisted of security, the establishing of a home and a family, harmonious co-existence, good standing within the community, an example to others, an example of living right and living well. Passion was a threat to all of these things, a somewhat negative force, so to speak, which could be tolerated only in small doses. Ofelia didn't care in the least about her so-called reputation as a terrible flirt and a tease. She had heard many awful things about herself but she knew in her mind that the people who made such accusations about her were either jealous, if they were women, or frustrated lovers-to-be whom she had rejected, dismissed, or humiliated, if they were men. In either case, she felt no threat to her sense of pride, nor any actual threat to her standing in the community, which would forever be strengthened and proved airtight due to the fact that she was going to be the wife of a hard-working and successful man, a long-term member of her church, a good mother, and a committed non-drinking, non-smoking, non-drug -using paragon of virtue. In her own mind, Ofelia's reputation was spotless and intact. Daniel presumed that Ofelia's sexual gratification came from using her beauty to manipulate men. Though it was true that her good looks made it easier for her to gain the attention of men and also to have some degree of power over them, that wasn't how she derived her pleasure. Her greatest pleasure was derived from the euphoric, physiological and mental sensation she experienced when she was showing parts of herself to a man who was *not supposed to see those parts*. For this reason it was exciting for her when her brother or one her cousins happened to see her in such a way. They were family and they were not supposed to see her that way, nor were they even supposed to want to see her that way; and for those reasons it was sometimes doubly super-charging when they did. She had moments when she was practically breathless, when she felt as if her head was light as a feather and was about to float away without her, when her belly and groin seemed filled with a thousand little flames and feathers, warming and tickling her, saturating her with pleasure. In fact, she had experienced orgasms during those moments. There were times when she could barely keep from moaning her pleasure aloud. One such moment occurred shortly after she turned eighteen. She had gotten in trouble for staying home from school without permission and her mother had punished her by making her scrub the kitchen floor. Ofelia had put on one of her summer dresses and, because her breasts were so small, especially then, she didn't bother to wear anything underneath it except for her panties. She had a bucket and a brush and was on her hands and knees on the kitchen tiles, scrubbing and scrubbing, when she realized that Manuel and her older cousins Fernando and Jose had come into the apartment and were watching her. The young men teased her because she was being punished, and came to sit on the floor around Ofelia to tease her some more, just playfully so. They meant no harm. After a while she could tell that something was wrong because they had all fallen into a hush. Or they said things just to hear their voices make some kind of sound, to keep Ofelia from getting suspicious. She realized that they could see down the top of her dress. She realized, because it was fairly low-cut, and because she was on all fours, that her breasts were completely visible, that they could see them hanging down, as small as they were, and that they could see them wiggling and shaking, and that they could see her nipples. Ofelia remembered how she felt as she continued to scrub the floor, knowing what she knew; how she felt their curiosity and interest, even their desire, as they enjoyed the liberty of seeing a part of her that was supposed to be private, and a part with which young men just happened to be inordinately fascinated. She felt her nipples become very hard. She felt herself become very wet between her legs. She felt her belly flutter and churn, the way it would when she was going up the first steep climb on the roller coaster at Six Flags, only much better than that, and a thousand times more exciting. The young men got slightly less awkward after a few minutes, and Jose made a comment about how the three of them should take turns giving Ofelia a spanking for being such a bad girl. And some jokes were made about how her bottom was sticking up in the air and how she was in the right position for it already. Ofelia blushed intensely and seemed upset,and was trembling as if she was trying not to weep. Suddenly Manuel was like a tiger. He shouted and started to throw his cousins out, telling them he would whip their asses if they didn't move it, and fast. He was fiercely protective of Ofelia and was deeply worried that their youthful play had hurt her. He would have happily killed anyone who so much as lifted a finger to harm her. But she wasn't hurt, she had climaxed, and her whole body was shaking. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She was slippery between her legs and in her panties. A distinct and altogether new scent was coming up through her dress. She quickly got up and ran to her bedroom, but not before assuring Manuel that she was okay and telling him not to follow her. Ofelia had experienced similar occasions after that, but they were few and far between. She had always liked to show, but now this fetish of hers was almost always right on the surface, in the very forefront of her mind, though she rationalized it in a thousand ways, and never came fully to terms with it, since it seemed undoubtedly sinful. On one particular occasion her brother was out with his friends and he had accidentally left a dirty magazine open on his side of the bed. Ofelia had never seen a magazine like this one. It was slick and glossy, and smelled brand new. As she flipped through the pages she began to get excited. There were pictures of girls with their legs wide open, exposing themselves in graphic detail. There were full-page close-ups of female genitalia which looked strange and exotic even to her. Oh what that must have been like! she thought to herself. Even though she didn't think she would ever have been able to do it, not for any amount of money, she envied the models for the sheer ecstasy of sensation that must have resulted from posing like that, for knowing that there were thousands, maybe millions, of men staring at their most private places, and thinking goodness only knows what. It was almost certainly wrong, but the wrongness was the central factor in what made it work. Leonard and Ofelia talked a few minutes more and finally Leonard had to get off the phone. He made sure to assure Ofelia that she was his love, she was a good girl, and she wasn't doing anything wrong. Cheating was when you lied to your partner, when you abused your partner's trust, when you tried to make a fool out of your partner. To Hell with what anyone else might think or say. She couldn't help that she was beautiful and that men fawned over and made passes at her. It was all she could do to keep all those slavering wolves at heel. Ofelia didn't really need the reassuring, but she thanked her fiance anyway and gave him a kiss over the phone. She truly did feel lucky that this man wanted to marry her, that she had something of extraordinary value in Leonard. And she felt no desire whatsoever to deceive him, or to hurt him in any way. This was a precious and important relationship, and Ofelia was grateful for it. Nonetheless, it was Daniel's face that she saw when she went to take still another shower. She washed her body, washed the smell of chlorine off her smooth skin. She washed between her legs and remembered that she had shaved. She reached around back where it was a bit tender from the razor; actually, it itched and was a little tender in the whole area, but it wasn't too bothersome. She would put some cream on it. She wished Daniel had been a little more aggressive, that he had seen her smooth flower. If he had asked, like Diablo, she would have shown it to him. Gladly. She wanted him to see it. Ofelia wanted Daniel to see everything. It wasn't just Daniel, really. She wouldn't mind if every man she ever knew could see every part of her, every little thing, exposed to the bright light of day. She would like it. She stood there in the shower, thinking about that very thing. She would know they could see her nipples so she would let them stiffen up and become erect, diamond-hard. It would be okay if they saw that. And it would be okay too if they could see her flower, and that she had shaved it smooth. They would think, maybe, that she had shaved it for them, so they could see it more clearly. It would be okay if that's what they thought, because it would be true. Sometimes while Ofelia lay in bed unable to sleep she would have a fantasy. She imagined herself as something like a school teacher, or maybe a school nurse. She would have her hair pinned up and she would be wearing a starched, pressed white uniform. And she would be at the head of a class, of young men only, to give a special instruction, and the cholos in the back would be whistling at her and making cat-calls as she reached under the skirt of her uniform and pulled down her big white nylon panties: granny-panties they would call them, snickering and making fun. One of the cholos would come up and grab her panties from her and they would toss her panties around the classroom. They would look inside them and examine them. Meanwhile she would tell everyone to pay attention as she lifted up her skirt and prepared to sit up on the desk. The room would fall silent as they stared at her flower, shaved smooth, split down the middle like a sweet nectarine, oozing its thick slow juice in pungent beads. Then she would sit with her naked behind on the desk and her skirt bunched up, and spread her long legs as far and wide as she could, like those girls she saw in those glossy magazines her brother kept in his closet, in a duffle bag, under some old gym socks. Once she had their attention she would invite them to come closer so they could see better. They would all be standing around her in a big semi-circle, fascinated as she opened up her brown flower to show the pink petals inside, opened it wide enough for them to see where her opening was, where they were supposed to put their thing when they got with a girl, and it would be small and round and tight, barely big enough to fit a finger, and baby-pink. And they would wonder how they would be able to get their big hard things in there, it was too small, too tight, because she was a good girl and was only doing this because it was her job as a professional and she would sit back on top of the desk with her legs spread wide open, her heels on the edge, some white stockings going up past her knee and up her thigh. She would lean on one hand while she used the other to keep her flower wide open and she would tell them what was what -- these are called my labia majora and these are called my labia minora and this small thing here can you see it get closer Manuel you too Daniel that's it is called my clitoris and that small hole there can you see it good is my vagina which is where you put your penis don't worry it stretches a baby can come out of it -- x. Ofelia never masturbated, but sometimes when she was in the shower she would wash herself very thoroughly down between her legs, and she would get close to something which she would then deny herself. It made her feel dirty when she thought about letting it come, just letting it rip through her like it did those few times when it happened all on its own. As she washed her body now she knew that she could make it happen, and quickly; but instead she turned off the water and dried herself off, then walked naked from the bathroom into her bedroom, wishing the front door would suddenly fly open. Ofelia put on some pajamas and wondered where Dominga and Manuel were. Probably visiting at Tia Gina's, where they went at least twice a week. They liked to go there because Tio Ruperto owned his own restaurant and they had a big in-the-ground pool with a jacuzzi, and a giant television. The more Ofelia thought about Daniel, the more she realized that her feelings actually threatened to spoil what she had with him. She needed to be strictly off limits. She needed to be forbidden. Her feelings of desire for Daniel were exactly what caused her misgivings now. She thought about her experiences with other men for a moment, and compared those experiences with her afternoon with Daniel. She had actually had several experiences with Paul Diaz, for instance. That night when she was seen kissing him at his going-away party was not the first time such a thing had happened. One could even say that Ofelia and Paul had been having something of an affair for about a month, an affair which ended that night at the theater. She went out with him alone, while Leonard was at work, about a dozen times. They always flirted a great deal, and Ofelia would let him do a little more than she let most other guys do. One afternoon they went for a drive and Ofelia let Paul kiss and suck her breasts for a long time. He even made a bunch of marks on her breasts, all around her nipples. There was no fear of Leonard seeing them as it was always dark on the few occasions when Ofelia let him enjoy her with her blouse up. Leonard didn't mind the dark. Ofelia Ch. 01 Pt. 09-11 Paul invited Ofelia over one other afternoon when his family was away. They kissed and played on his bed, and eventually Paul had his penis out and was begging Ofelia to do something with it. It was long and uncircumcised, and Ofelia was fascinated by it, especially when she took it in her hand and made the pink swollen tip come out. Paul asked her if she had ever seen a boy's sperm come out. In fact she had, she told him. But she didn't tell him that it was Manuel whom she had seen ejaculate. She had helped Manuel to ejaculate many times. Some girls found the whole thing disgusting, but to Ofelia it was nothing if not beautiful and exciting. But when Paul ejaculated it was different than Manuel. The sperm wasn't perfectly white like Manuel's, and it only dribbled out over her hand onto Paul's abdomen, whereas with her brother the stuff was white like coconut milk, but thick; and it sprayed out in a way that reminded Ofelia of shoelaces. Long white strings of it: clean and brand new, forcefully squirting, making squiggly shapes like question marks in the air. Ofelia found nothing revolting or sickening about it. As she thought of her times with Paul, she realized that there was never a point at which she truly desired him. He was very handsome, had a muscular physique, and was known to be with many girls, and he was a good kisser. But what she had with him was not much different than what she had with Manuel: it was physical, it was fun, even exciting; and when they were kissing it was sometimes fiery and passionate, but it was what it was: exciting, thrilling, fun, play. She knew that she was never tempted to let him take her virginity. She thought it might be nice, certainly, but she was never truly tempted. There were several other men with whom Ofelia had experienced similar things. There was an older cousin's husband, not a blood relation. There were four or five first and second cousins. There were other guys at the mill, and from other places: young men she had met at dances, or when she was out shopping. Altogether Ofelia reckoned there must have been two dozen or so men, just in the past year alone, with whom she had had some kind of sexual play. If she counted from when she was around thirteen, which was the first time she kissed a boy (her cousin, Miguel), there were too many to count. Probably well over a hundred. With Daniel, suddenly things were different. Ofelia searched her soul and had to face one unsettling fact: if Daniel had enough time with her alone, he would almost certainly be able to make love to her. She knew it in her bones, that he was already well on his way to stealing the prize that she had put aside for her fiance. When she was absolutely honest with herself, she accepted the fact, the very brute fact, that she wanted Daniel inside her. She had never felt that before, not with anyone. Of course, she thought it would be exciting to try it with this boy or that man; but she was always safe and secure in the knowledge that she could go on denying this or that man the object of his desire, and go on denying it indefinitely. With Daniel, however, Ofelia knew deep down that she would not be able to deny him the object of his desire, given enough time. She wanted him to try, to try harder. She would try to be the devoted fiance, of course, but a girl could only take so much. He said the right things, in the right way. He withdrew like a man, not like a frustrated boy, when he was told to stop. When he kissed her it was when he knew she was eagerly waiting for it, not when his explosive hormones told him to go for the lips hoping for some tongue. When he touched her breasts, he did it as one who deserved it, not as one who was being granted a favor. When he had his hand on her backside, it was because it belonged there. What Beatriz, God bless her, didn't know was that when Daniel gave her those little pats on her rear-end, it was not just some perversion which he thought he could get away with because of his position of authority. He didn't do that with other girls at the mill. Daniel did it with Ofelia and with Ofelia alone, and he did it with the confidence and self-assurance of a man who runs his hand over the hood of an expensive automobile which he knows his hard work has earned him. Ofelia was his, and he knew it. She was a thing of rare and precious beauty, and she belonged to him, and he knew it, as surely as he knew the ground was under his feet and the sky was over his head. Ofelia knew this to be true, and yet it was this very truth which she feared the most. If she let herself fall in love with him, and he with her, what would become of it? If she went out him again, which she most certainly would (and she heard the phrase "going out" in her mind and she knew that -- Yes I went Out with Daniel on a Date Yes it was a Date I went Out with him on a Date a Date with Daniel -- there was every chance that she would betray her promise to herself and to Leonard, and that this would make her world come crashing down. When she thought about it she heard the sound of a thousand tiny glass figurines falling off their shelves and breaking into a million pieces, scattering like buckshot across the smooth tiles in one of those fancy curio shops she had visited in once in Monterey. What if Daniel took Ofelia away from Leonard (who never possessed her in the first place) and married her, became the father of her babies, her loving husband? Ofelia knew herself too well. She knew that such a turn of events would be in all practicality a wonderful thing; but the sick and twisted side of her rebelled strongly against it. Yes, it was sick and twisted. It was perverse and crude and pathetic, but it was there and it was real. A part of Ofelia wanted to be Daniel's love, his wife, his carina; but another part of her wanted to be his hina, his whore, his cunt. She rolled that ugly word off her tongue several times in the growing darkness of her room: --cunt, cunt, Cunt, cunnnt, Kunt, su kuntt, suu CUNT, Daniel, Your cunt -- Ofelia turned onto her back and wished Manuel would come blustering into the room and start fiddling with her, just to take her mind off of those things and to make those horrible beautiful sounds go away. Maybe she would just make the young man's day and let him lay down so he could watch her take his cock in her mouth. Let him be the very first to feel her tongue dancing at the pink tip of his cock, her lips kissing it and opening up around it and sliding up and down like those trashy gringas and cholas he milked himself off to. She would be able to do that. Yes she would. Not only able but willing. Or maybe the Super would come in unannounced, like the old cretin was known to do occasionally. And what would he think to see Ofelia on her knees, her face on the bed sheet, sticking her ass up in the air and the pink crack of her cunt wet enough for him to slide his cock into it, her asshole in plain view like some prancing house-cat? As she lay there her mind wandered, and she had brief fantasies, most of them slightly different versions of the same themes. She imagined herself as Mrs. Santiago, standing at her machine at the laundry mill. Beatriz was there, scowling at her from her machine. Daniel was behind her, kissing her neck, sweeping her hair back so he could see her soft, dark skin. She was just working as usual. Daniel's hands slipped up under her shirt. Beatriz shook her head as she watched the nasty gringo's hands caressing Ofelia's tender little tits, pinching her nipples, squeezing them and pulling them until they were swollen and stiff -- and Daniel reached down to her belly and unfastened the button of her jeans. He pulled her zipper down and exposed a wedge of Ofelia's white cotton panties, the kind that good little girls and good little wives wear. Then his hand went down the front of her panties and his fingers explored her pussy, slid down its moist, fleshy groove, touched the warm, wet lips, and finally sank into her vagina [...cunt...]-- In her fantasy Daniel wasn't the man she had started to fall in love with in the pool, but an entirely different Daniel, a Daniel who wanted her for nothing but her Cunt -- then there would be some other men there, watching the boss take his pleasure. Beatriz would be frowning and scowling. Daniel would pull Ofelia's jeans, and then her panties, all the way down to her knees so that the other men could see her bare ass. Daniel would laugh and say, "atta girl", as he playfully swatted her ass, the backs of her thighs --Look at that tight ass. Yes that's a nice tight. Ass she has there. Look at that Tight little. Ass -- He would open her up and show her to the other men, and they would leer and whistle and cat-call like the silly little boys they were. Ofelia's heart beat in her chest while she switched to another fantasy. This time she was in the pool with Manuel and a few of her cousins. Manuel came up behind her and unhooked her bikini top and ripped it away from her before she could prevent him from doing it. And the guys laughed and pointed at her naked tits, her nipples puckered and hard from being in the cold water -- look at those tits those are nice tits look at those tits those tetas those tits -- but she didn't pretend to try and hide them like she did on the few occasions when that sort of thing actually happened. Instead, she went out of the pool and sat on the edge with her feet in the water, leaning forward so that her tits looked bigger because they were hanging down and she would just laugh back at them and tell them what a bunch of sneaky banditos they were and they would surround her and she would sit back leaning back on the palms of her hands and just shake her head as their hands went all over her taking turns handling her tits pulling her nipples tapping her tits on the bottom so they would jiggle and they would dare her to show them her pussy -- show us your pussy Ofelia yes that's right your Pussy there's a good girl what a good Kunt pucha Cunt pucha mira!-- Ofelia became more and more restless until finally she was in a sweat. It seemed awfully hot in the room, even with the windows open and the cool air coming in. Ofelia lifted her bottom and slid her pajama-shorts off, kicked them off her feet. Then she sat up briefly and removed her top. That was nothing too out of the ordinary. During the summer Ofelia sometimes went to bed with nothing on but her panties. She lay back with her arms out, feeling herself wet and hot between her legs. Her nipples were standing up in the air, brushed harder and harder by the swirling breeze. Her right hand went up so she could play with the open end of the pillowcase. She liked to feel the cool, sharp edges on her fingertips. It was a habit she had not been able to shake. She was lying like that when she heard her Mom and her brother come home. "Is she still out with that man?" she heard Dominga say, as if to herself. "She better not be." Manuel answered, and immediately set off down the hall. She saw his slender form in the doorway. He could see her lying on their bed. Thinking her asleep, he went back and said something to Dominga in soft tones. Ofelia could feel his relief, his gladness at knowing she was safe and sound and in his bed. Their bed. xi. For a while Ofelia drifted in and out of a shallow sleep, a fitful sleep filled with Daniel's face, his arms and his white chest, his hands. He was kissing her and she was running her hands through his hair, telling him not to stop, that he could kiss her as much as he wanted, that she belonged to him. She became so wet the seat of her panties was soaked through. It was around eight-thirty when Manuel came back into the room. He lay down on the bed and was very still for a few moments, just listening to the sound of his sister's irregular breathing, enjoying her presence. "Hola, Papi." Ofelia said, so softly and sweetly, and turned onto her side. "Hola, mi amor." Manuel replied, pleased that she had wakened. Dominga had gone into her room to read, and closed her door. Manuel turned onto his side so that the two were facing one another. It was dark but not too dark that they couldn't see each other. Manuel had left their door ajar and the hall-light was on, as it always was. Manuel raised his arm and brushed some of Ofelia's hair off her cheek. He took a long time to tuck it around the top her her ear, sweeping his fingers along the soft tress around her ear's curve. He touched her earlobe, the little ring there, then moved his finger to her shoulder. Ofelia giggled, "It tickles, Papi." "You're supposed to say, calmate!" Manuel reminded her. "Oh, sorry, I forgot." Ofelia said, sleepily. She cleared her throat, and said, "Calmate." in the tiniest voice Manuel had ever heard. They laughed, and Manuel maneuvered himself so that he was close enough to his sister to feel her breath on his face. Butterfly-breath, he called it, and only Ofelia breathed it. She opened her eyes because she knew how close he was, because he was holding his breath. That's always what gave him away. Manuel stared at Ofelia and moved still closer, so that their noses were almost touching. He felt himself grow hard down in his shorts, and he was sure he could smell Ofelia's flower. He was smelling it on her fingers. When he had that smell on his own fingers he wouldn't wash until it had faded. Ofelia turned onto her back again. "Papi." "Que?" Ofelia found her brother's hand and put it down between her legs. She had never done anything like that before and Manuel's heart trip-hammered in his chest. He gave a short, soft cry. She moved his hand so that his fingertips were outside her panties at the top of her vulva. She applied pressure and moved his fingertips for him, down into that soft groove between the thicker lips, and up, up until she had guided him to her clit, which was swollen and firm. "Can you feel that?" "Dios mio, si." Manuel's voice was shaky. He was breathing harder. "Relax, Papi." Ofelia opened her legs. Slowly, and still holding his fingers against her clit through her panties, she pushed her bottom upwards, pressing herself into Manuel's touch. Her narrow hips moved in a slow circle, and her taut little rear-end tensed and pushed and slid on the bed sheet. Manuel was too astonished to do anything of his own volition. Ofelia had to keep his fingers where she wanted them and move her body in accordance with that. Her eyes were closed. She moved her head slowly from side to side on her flat pillow, licking her lips, falling back into the darkness behind her eyes, her breasts going up and down to her quickening breath, her nipples standing up dark and hard like black pawns on a chessboard. In a very fluid motion Ofelia moved her brother's hand up and back down, except when his fingers went back down she made them slide under the elastic waistband of her panties. Manuel gave another muted cry when he felt how smooth she was. She had shaved her flower. Manuel pressed his fingers into Ofelia's shorn flower, up to the very top where it started to divide, and he made her gasp loudly when he found that hard thorn again. She only held onto his wrist now, and Manuel was looking down at her face in the dim light while he caressed her gently, dipping his fingers lower, rubbing a slow circle around -- the small hole inside at the bottom of her pussy, Ofelia's pussy, feeling it cling to his knuckle, wet and very hot, pushing it into that hole, making a funny wet sound down there like a fart, then back up to her clit, feeling the small lips of her pussy, Ofelia's pussy, her pink lips, spreading them open, rubbing the whole soft smooth mound of Ofelia's pussy as she swiveled her hips, feeling her culita with his fingertips, Ofelia's secret asshole, Ofelia's asshole, and she was like the tied end of a balloon there, and he could smell it, and Ofelia was breathing harder and faster, moving her hips like those putas he stared at grinding on the internet, those tattooed gringas and cholas with rings in their -- --then his sister was fucking his hand, fucking his fingers, her pussy getting its slippery sticky juice all over, and she was crying out and sucking her cries back in at the same time, and he felt her squirt between his fingers from her pussy and spray against his palm as she let herself come finally, let it tear through her like a tornado, let herself fuck her own brother's hand [his cock] with her -- The two of them lay still for several minutes without saying anything. Ofelia's bare bottom was in a puddle. Manuel had marks from her fingernails in his hand, wrist, forearm. Finally Ofelia turned onto her side, facing him, and said, "Papi?" "What?" "You want to make shoelaces?" "Oh, my God." Ofelia helped him get it out of his pee-jays, still lying on her side, then wrapped her long fingers around the top few inches of Manuel's penis and slowly began to move the skin sheath up and down, rolling the circumcised foreskin up and down over the fat head that looked to Ofelia like the head of a King Cobra. She knew exactly what to do, exactly how much pressure to apply, exactly the right motion, even the way she tipped his penis backwards so that she could see the slit opening, so she could milk it better, and so his sperm would spurt out onto his chest and make a big arch in the air, so she could see it, so she could watch it and he could watch her watching one shoelace after another, spitting and spurting out of the snake's mouth, white ribbons out of the pink dragon, splashing and quivering like pudding on his dark skin, like sea foam, like warm pearls, clean and fresh and hot. It took only a minute. The first shoelace spat out with a barely audible thwiiiick and cabled itself almost perfectly straight from his navel up to his collar. More and more shoelaces spurted, curved, looped, splashed, white and thick all over his upper torso, even his arms. Manuel just moaned quietly and stroked Ofelia's bare shoulder, her back, the top of her panties. "There." Ofelia said, still holding his penis but not moving her hand, just letting the last droplets bead down over the webbing of her hand between her thumb and forefinger. She didn't mind the warm feel of it on her or the pungent smell it wove into the air. Truthfully, she liked to feel it on her skin and she liked the smell of it. She was careful when she took the toilet paper to clean it up, dabbing at it gingerly from the oozy tip, sopping up the rich nutmilk, white, smearing the cockmilk, wiping it from his belly, his chest, his nipple. Lastly, she wiped it from her hand. She put several little balls of sodden toilet tissue on the night-stand. Ofelia curled up into a little ball and Manuel curled up behind her, and in this way the two slept very soundly and very peacefully. this concludes chapter one.