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He was hot and walked into the bedroom taking off his T-shirt. She was undressing and turned around. Her cunt was shaved, there was just a vertical line of bush. Her nipples were soft and erect. He pushed his pants off and scratched his balls, fluffing out the hair.
    He rolled down onto the bed, pulling her down.
    Hey, watch it, just take it easy.
    He started kissing her on her belly and tits, then slowed down, kissing her on her shoulders and neck and face and lips. She kissed him back, and bit his shoulder and arm. She bit hard with sharp teeth and then pushed him off her, rolling onto him. She ground her clit against his cock and his belly, his hair.
    She turned around so her ass was in his face and started stroking his cock. He pulled her hips down, and licked her clit and lips. He moved around so he could lick all the way past her cunt, to her asshole. He stuck his tongue into her, pushing a bit. She was sucking hard on his dick, dragging her teeth into it. He licked from her asshole to her clit and back, and kept doing it, holding onto her hips and her ass, her knees spread outside his elbows.
    She swung off him and lay on her front. Don't you want to whip me?
    He took the small whip down off the wall and sat on her ass, his cock under her fist against her crack. He drew the whip gently on her back and then flicked it. She twitched a bit. He whipped her harder and she moved her ass around. She felt the hair on his balls between her cheeks and bit down on her lower lip, turning her face to the right.

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I go to the deaf boy's house. It is dark, shady, with lacquered wood floors, high bookshelves. Colored silk pillows glint from low benches. A ceiling fan throbs overhead. It is dark but when I step forward a sharp ray of sunlight pierces through a high window, blinds me. I can't see. But I feel my own face lit up, white, scared, exposed.
     The deaf boy takes my hand and pulls me gently forward into the dark. Our wet feet leave silvery footprints on the black floor, up the stairs, glinting like fish scales.
     The deaf boy lays me on his bed. Unwraps me slowly, the way I've watched him pry a starfish from a rock. Kneeling beside me, he slips my bathing suit top over my arms, my head, exposing my small breasts. He pulls the pants down over my gangly legs, revealing a blonde triangle of hair, my white skin.
     Naked, I lie completely still. Close my eyes. I pretend I am an object he carried in from the beach. A bone washed up, a sun-bleached cuttlefish, a ridged cowrie shell. I am thin, hard. I am not voluptuous. I am a rock with edges, unsmoothed. White quartz, veins of dark obsidian where the rattan shade casts lines of sun and shadow across the bed.
     The deaf boy examines my naked body. He runs his hands slowly over me from my mouth down to my navel, as if I were a shell, Janthina globosa. He runs his fingers between my legs, feels where it is wet, trails the wetness down my thighs, exploring. I feel my breath become fast and short. I grow full of desire. Desire for the deaf boy's kisses, for death, for drowning. Outside the village sounds are muted, far away. It's midday, too hot to work.
     I undress the deaf boy. I do the things he has done to me. I lie him down and touch him until he moans with pleasure. I lick him. The deaf boy's skin is smooth, salty. I trace the lines of his ribs and collar-bone with my tongue. We touch each other this way, nothing more. Then we lie down, we don't speak, don't move. click to close