In Memory of the Possible Oblivion
Foreword
They are both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.
----Wislawa Szymborska, Love at First Sight
III
Good night, he turned off the lights and was about to head for the guestroom.
They had read some art magazines together in the bed. Her intuitive insight into art impressed him. Moreover, lying close to her made him feel sweet.
Well, not that close, he admitted.She tried to keep him at an arm-length away, but it didn't stop him from touching her shoulder or arm inadvertently from time to time. Occasionally, he stealthily smelled her hair...
It struck him like the first love while he still could be innocent and thus felt hopelessly shy at approaching a girl.
It's almost 12 o'clock. Time for bed -- he had to work tomorrow.
Good night, she replied in a low, throaty voice.
He paused at the door and said, rabbit, I like you.
She demanded, why?
You are beautiful, he tried to explaine.
Cliche, She protested, I am not beautiful.
OK, you are ugly.He conceded as usual.
So you like ugly girl? She challenged.
His heart jumped to the throat when he sensed the flirting tone -- at least he interpreted that way.
He walked back to the bed in the dark, yeah, I like ugly girl.
He sat on the bed and then slowly lay down beside her. His breath became heavy -- the smell of her hair excited him.
You may hold me above the comforter, She granted him the permission.
He reached for her shoulder, feeling overwhelmed at such intimacy. He cuddled her gentlely.
Even shielded by the comforter, her body still caused such excitement in him that he literally trembled.
Can you recite a poem in Hakka dialect? He asked. He always had a curiosity on Hakka culture.
OK, but it will be very funny, She warned. It turned out to be the case, and they had a great laugh.
They felt more relaxed after the laughter. He whispered in her ear, buried his face in her hair and massaged her shoulder gently.
She kept on fencing off his intruding hands, retreating by covering her body with the comforter again and again.
As time passed, her defense became languid.
Gradually, his hands sneaked into the comforter and stroked her back.
Her skin was very smooth, like a piece of fine silk or warm marble. He thought the latter deion might be more creative and original.
In fact, he struggled to come up with a way to describe the feel of her body, but in vain.
It is simply beyond his words.
May I massage you? He wanted to please her.
Fine, but with my skirt on.She didn't lower her guard.
She lay on the stomach and then he massaged her neck and shoulders tenderly.
Her shoulders are as boney as a little girl's. Somehow he is quite attracted to the feature.
After a while, she asked him to stop.
Now they both lay aside closely.
I have a mole on the back.She offered.
He located the lovely mole and kissed it.
His fingers roamed around on the cleavage and occasionally stroked the breasts.
Her breasts were firm and delicate in an elegant size which fits in a champagne glass as French describe.
She snapped on the back of his hand, but such defense proved ineffective in front of the persistent invasion.
His fingertips started flicking her nipples gently with varying rhythm.
They also drew small circles around the areola. She seemed to be enjoying such sensual touches now.
She moaned quietly with short breath.
He climbed on top of her, pushed her skirt above the chest, and rolled his tongue languidly over the skin while gently stroking her breasts. He worshiped her body so much that he wanted to kiss each inch of her skin, feel every curve and explore every wonder.
She seemed to be aroused, and her back arched upward as if she was reaching for something.
His exploration expanded down below. He nuzzled on her shorts between the thighs.
It felt warm there. He tried untying the shorts.
No!She cried.
I will stay outside.He stopped and tried to reason her out.
The candlelight of her sensibility flickered in the wild gust of ecstasy.
Outside only, She tried the last effort to draw a line there.
He undressed her and found her panties wet. She didn't have much pubic hair as she had told him before.
He quickly tasted the little flower in the dark forest before she stopped him.
It is warm, fresh and a little salty.
Oh, the well of all ultimate pleasure!
In the dark, he imagined that in a foggy morning he picked up a dewy red rose from the empty peddle-paved street.He savored its fragrance with full lungs
In a second, he released himself from the sleepwear.
He rubbed his yearning penis on the outer lips (or labia majora -- since their owner is so scholastic).
Oh! He must be electrified. He would claim that those slightly swollen lips are the welcoming gate to the heaven.
No!She shook the waist.
Oh... Sorry. Condom!He rushed across the living room, dug out a condom from the corner of the shelf in the closet of the guestroom and dashed back into the bed. He finished all the actions in the dark precisely and swiftly before she had time to change the mind.
She had said to him that libido was the driving force of many beautiful human activities. He was not able to quote her remark precisely,but would not agree with her more right there.
Wearing the rubber, his penis engaged another round of exploration.
No, no, it hurts! She cried.
Sorry, sorry.He took off the short-lived condom. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
I will use fingers. Ok? He became even tenderer, acknowledging her extraordinary sensitivity.
Hm...She nodded in the dark.
His wetted his fingers and searched for the clitoris. Most times, the fingers got lost in the valley of outer lips or inner lips.
No. She complained.
Feeling frustrated, she guided his fingers to the elusive clitoris.
Right there...Oh... Don't press too hard...Tender... She instructed him in breathless moans.
He rubbed the clitoris and stroked the nipples at the same time, when he lay aside her.
When he got on the top,
he licked her nipples while massaging the little flower bud downstairs...
She started trembling with such intense sensual pleasure.
Faster, faster She demanded.
Ah, ah, ah She moaned loudly, and tried to cover the mouth with the palm.
He took off her palm.
Her moans were the most beautiful music in the deep quiet night. He wanted her to express herself freely.
She came on his fingertips. Her body became softer and more relaxed after the release of such strong sexual charge.
We shouldn't have done this.She sighed in a crying voice, burying her face in the pillow.
Sorry, He replied.
I don't know how to face you tomorrow.She claimed.
He promised, I won't say a word.
But I might see the tease in your eyes, She continued.
I won't do that.He already felt guilty by sensing her embarrassment. Don't worry. It will be OK tomorrow.
Covering her with the comforter, he kissed her good night again -- as he did two hours ago.
He folded her shorts and put it aside the pillow.
He washed her little panties in the bathroom, and hanged it in the closet.
When she waked up tomorrow, the stained panties would be dry and clean, which would not remind her of what happened tonight.
He sincerely hoped that by cleaning the panties he had wiped out all the trace.
He felt obliged to take good care of her.
Before going to the bed, he told himself that he must be in love.
Must be.
