But once my guy would try to go in for a sneak attack, Mari would place her fucking hand between her thighs and hold my dick. She would shake her head and I would yell, "Shit!" "Damn!" or "Son of a Bitch!" But never fuck, it hurt too much to say. She told me that love was the goal before getting to sex. Goddamit. . . I thought. It was going to be harder than I thought. Why God?
Two months was a long time of no sex for me but I decided not to be rash and break it off. I'll be the nice guy, right? She will open up to me in the only way I really wanted. There could be a shot of making it work, I thought. . . until that one night in July of 04.
We were in the basement, sitting on her light brown couch in front of her TV like we usually did, no biggie, when Mari started kissing my neck. I took my own stand, pushing her away and shook my head.
"What's the point?! I don't wanna get riled up for nothing."
She looked upset and betrayed but I stayed my ground. Damn right! Feel the helplessness! It lasted for a remarkable minute and a half. The silence in the room was too much and I figured maybe I had a shot.
We started to make out. Without missing a beat, she unbuttoned her pants and slid them off. Before I got too excited, I sat there wondering what she wanted specifically. I didn't wanna be played for an idiot again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me nine times, shame on me. It usually happened that when Mari took her pants off; it was just so I could finger her. Could this time be different? I thought. Maybe. . . please?
My head cocked to one side and I waited as she stood in front of me; her lower half completely naked. Mari got to her knees and unzipped my pants then pulled them down my legs. She started to suck me off and I sat there, watching the television. From time to time, I looked behind me and up the stairs that led up to the kitchen. I heard her older sister laughing and talking with her two girl friends. It didn't bother me.
It wasn't the first time that we fooled around while someone was in the house. In fact, the reason why we had to usually stay at her house was because her grandmother needed to be taken care of. She was somewhere between a relic or antique.
I couldn't remember how many times I went down on Mari and vice versa. After a few times though, she began to trust me through what she called our "intense intimacy," or whatever the hell politically correct way she decided to put it. She even got the nerve to tell me about her embarrassing defect. She had something called spina bifida and apparently there are two types. She had the less severe one. Mari told me it caused her to lose control of her bladder and bowels but that it rarely happened. I didn't think anything of it. As far as I knew, all she had was a weird circular scar at the base of her back as a reminder that she was branded. I should have seen it as a goddamn warning sign.
Anyways, going along with the mood, I reached my hands down her chest and started to fondle Mari's breasts. She lifted up her shirt above her 36 D's. A delectable feel and look to them, I always thought. She got on the couch and spread her legs over my stomach. I inserted my index and middle finger inside her vertical lips, slow and then with some speed. Mari pushed back her extremely wavy, brunette hair. She held her arms around my neck. With much of her own effort, she bounced up and down, pushing onto my fingers. I was unaware myself of how fast my fingers were now pressing into her. Mari shut her eyes tightly and bit down on her lower lip. I knew she would soon climax. Another wasted moment where we could've just done it. She hovered over my chest and I slid down the couch, between her legs like a mechanic looking under a car.
Without warning, three things had occurred simultaneously.
I was so fucking shocked when the realization hit me. I just got a bucket of her juice on me. . . I JUST GOT A BUCKET OF HER JUICE ON ME!! Whether anyone from upstairs heard or not, I didn't know and at that moment didn't fucking care! I pushed Mari to the side of the couch and frantically pulled up my pants. As I rushed over to the sink in the dark corner of the basement, I shuddered as if I had an assortment of insects on my back and chest, crawling all over me. With all my patience, I tried containing myself, muttering as many curses that I knew in English and Spanish. All that kept running through my mind was, "She pissed on me! SHE PISSED ON ME!! Or was it piss?? A roll of paper towel stood on the counter of the sink and I wrapped a thick amount around my hand and began to wipe, wipe, wipe, my shirt.
Hesitantly, I pinched a cloth of my shirt and held it up to my nose. It wasn't urine, I knew that much. God, I hope it wasn't, I thought. There was no smell to it.
It didn't occur to me until later on that it was just a quart of Mari's vaginal juice that she released onto me; a result of the spina bifida. Greeeeat. . . no biggie.
When I looked up at the couch, Mari wasn't there anymore. She had gone upstairs. I didn't even notice she left and I didn't give a shit. I had fluid on my shirt that was starting to feel sticky for some fucking reason. Above me, I heard her mom ask if something was wrong. I stopped wiping and looked up. Ahh shit, would she rat me out? I wondered. Say there was an accident and that I needed to borrow a shirt?
But she didn't say anything. Maybe she just shook her head or whispered. I never found out.
Mari walked back down the stairs, head held down. She didn't look my way as she walked over towards the desk and computer on the opposite corner. I wanted to yell at her but couldn't even get the nerve to say even a word. She just sat there facing the screen in shame. My mind told me to go over and console her; tell her it wasn't her fault. That this did not change the way I felt about her.
Another part of me said, "YOU GOT THE HOOVER DAM ON YOUR SHIRT!! BE MAD!! GET CRAZY!"
The stain looked about the size of a place mat. There would be no way to hide it, I thought. I would have to wait till it dried up and hope a smell didn't develop from it.
That was when Mari's sister yelled down from the top of the stairs. "Mari! Jeannie, Marci and me are going to the movies. Mom said we should take ummm, what's his name, Nemo. . . Nino, your boyfriend. Anyways, she said we should take him. We're going past his place anyways, right? Is he gonna come upstairs or what?"
I had completely forgotten that Mari picked me up to come to her house. "Of course," I said. "Why wouldn't this happen?"
A rush of fear came over me and I wondered how I would explain the stain. Too big for a simple spill. They would ask what I was possibly doing to warrant a stain that large on my shirt. Oh I was fingering the hell out of your daughter ma'am and apparently she opened up like a geyser. Mari looked at me from the computer desk and we locked eyes briefly.
"Whatever," I muttered and headed up the stairs. I knew the longer they waited, the more suspicious they would become. Fuck it. . . It was time to face the music. . . and the stares.
Once I got to the top of the stairs, her mom looked at me from the doorway of the basement and held her hand out to me. "Hi there, Nino. How are you?"
Yes, touch my sticky hands and feel your daughter's vaginal juice. "Fine. . . fine. . . " I muttered and stretched a grin across my face as hard as I could.
"So how are you and Mari getting along?"
I was wondering if the woman was blind. Did she not see my shirt?
"Um, good. . . " I said with a reassuring nod. I placed my hands in the pockets of my jeans and could feel the cold wetness of the cloth onto my chest. My face started to contort into a wince and I felt like throwing up. The bile came up my throat but I forced the bastard down.
"Where are you from anyways? You look Puerto Rican."
A nervous chuckle escaped from my throat instead. Thank God. "No, I'm Peruvian. . . just full on."
My eyes wandered up above me and I finally noticed why Mari's mom didn't notice the stain. There was no light at the entrance of the basement stairs! From where I stood, all she could possibly see was a shadow of my face. As long as I stood there, I thought, I could make it out no sweat.
Then her mom motioned with her hand for me to follow her. "Here, let me get you something to drink."
Aww shit, there it goes. Show her what her daughter is capable of and make her proud! "Oh no, no, I'm good. . . really."
"Are you sure?" she asked, genuinely concerned for my body's hydration level. "Because we have lemonade, water, I made some fruit juice."
"No, no that's quite all right. I already had some juice," I said, swallowing hard.
Mari's sister came out from behind her mother and asked, "Do you wanna come to the show with us?"
"No, I'm good. Thanks though."
She shrugged. "Okay then. Mari let's go!"
After a few minutes where the girls were talking in the kitchen and saying where they wanted to go afterwards, I yelled to the mother goodbye and she waved. Then I found myself outside Mari's home. Luckily enough, she lived in the suburbs and there was no light. I had never felt so glad that people in the suburbs hated streetlights. I felt like a wet ninja, stalking my way across to her sister's car. Once everyone was set to go, I sat in the backseat of the car and Mari sat alongside me. But we didn't talk. What the hell would I have to say anyways, "You need to control how much of your fluids you release onto me!" She grabbed my hand and tightened her grip sometimes like Morse code. No sex and I get a bucket of her vaginal fluid on my favorite shirt and she wanted to talk. TALK? TALK TO YOURSELF! THAT'S WHY WE HAVE VOICES IN OUR HEADS!
That night was the last time I saw Mari. She called for a few weeks after but I didn't pick up. She left messages saying she was sorry for "whatever she had done" and was now ready for us to "make love." But I didn't want that anymore. Whether she was really ready or not didn't matter to me. The whole thing was now just tainted and I had the shirt to prove it.
Share on Facebook
Tweet about this Piece
Poor Mojo's Tip Jar: