Kita

Daniel’s house is so big that we barely have to run into each other. After a few days I sort of get the hang of it. I can hear him as he walks down the hall, though his footsteps are quite light for such a large person. When I hear them coming, I can just disappear from wherever I am.

I try to leave no trace, no interruption on his life. Keep everything clean, try to keep quiet. It's the least I can do, since he's obviously used to having things a certain way.

And it is his military training, I realize. Aside from the picture in the upstairs hallway, there are other pictures of him with military personnel around the house. In one he’s standing in front of the Kremlin, arms linked with another man. Their chins jut into the air and their eyes are serious even though their poses are kind of jokey.

In another one he's in full desert camouflage, sitting on top of a tank with his feet crossed, looking as casual as a person can look with sixty pounds of gear and a helmet on. He's grinning as though someone just said something really funny and he appears totally amused and engaged.

It looks like he’s been everywhere. But then I realize, there are no family photos at all. No parents, no wife, no kids. Just this man in various places around the world, in the company of other military-type people. He looks like he’s having fun, at least.

That is a little different than I usually see him. Around me he's extremely reserved, barely smiling, hardly even talking to me. In fact, in the last few weeks I think I have only seen him smile a couple of times. He has a wonderful, handsome smile.

Sometimes I wonder if my being here really irritates him. Maybe people my age are just naturally annoying. Or maybe I’m doing something wrong though I am trying so hard not to do anything wrong. I try to not even make a mess.

But though I'm trying to stay out of his way, I also sort of love being here. I like having the presence of a man around for some reason, and it probably has something to do with losing my own father so early. I have some hazy memories of my father from when I was three, maybe four. I remember a trip to Russia to visit relatives, sitting on his knee as he bounced me up and down, joking and laughing with all the other men. I remember that sound: the deep, rumbling laughter of men all at once. It is a very happy sound.

Something about Daniel sort of reminds me of that. Perhaps it is his size because he is so much bigger than me. Perhaps it’s just the broadness of his shoulders. He's very fit, very strong. He's basically a comic book drawing of a military superhero in anybody's book. And that just makes me feel… safe.

And it also makes me feel… other things.

I'm embarrassed to say it, but something seems to have been coming over me. Like some kind of hormone rush. Maybe delayed puberty? I know I never felt like this when I was sixteen or seventeen, which is when I think you're supposed to feel like all trembly and oversexed. But I was in two different foster homes, trying to figure out how I was going to keep my sanity when they took my mother away. I had more on my mind than just whatever was going on with my body.

So why now? Why here? I find myself throbbing, with chills racing up and down my arms all the time. I can't even watch people kiss on TV without getting this twinge that's almost painful in my belly and lower parts.

But I try to ignore it. I try so hard. While I'm trying to be quiet and stay out of Daniel’s way, the last thing I want to do is to be touching myself up here in the guest bedroom and risk him finding out. It seems so wrong.

But in the morning, as I am waking up, the wisps of a dream kind of dissolve and I realize I’ve got my fingers inside my panties. What was I just dreaming about? Being in someone's arms. Being rocked back and forth... letting that twinge build inside me until it becomes an ache, becomes a stronger ache.

As I become more awake, I realize I'm on my stomach, with my hand trapped beneath me, thrusting against my fingers. Small whimpers slip from my lips and wake me up further, and I realize I am just about to come.

Shame floods me, but it is too late. My body takes over and I push away any feelings of doubt for just a few seconds longer than it takes to bring myself to climax. The last shreds of the dream shatter and sparkle as I bury my face in the pillow and tremble against my fingers, rocking slower and slower until it subsides.

I think I was quiet. I hope so. I get to the shower as quickly as I can and get cleaned up, trying not to linger too long or touch myself with any more impure thoughts.

I'm out of my room in a hurry, grabbing a yogurt cup and a banana before heading to the garage.

Daniel said I could borrow any of his cars, but I have to admit that I like this Jeep the best. I think it's the oldest one in his collection, definitely not the fanciest, but I really like it. It's too cold now to take the top off, but I could just imagine how much fun it would be in the spring when the leaves all come back and the sun warms you inside and out.

The Jeep roars to life, making a lot of noise in the echoey garage space. I roll it carefully to the overhead door and press the button, then enter traffic and close the door again.

It's a nice day, and I love this feeling of liberty. Just a simple thing like having a car whenever I need one is such a relief. It's a different way of life than I guess I've ever experienced. When I was little, with my mother, she took care of everything. When I was older and trying to stretch my wings a little bit, I was in the foster care system so I didn't really get to do that the way that a lot of other people do. Then I went straight to the sorority house, just walking distance to class and I didn't need a car.

But now, magically, I just have one. I can do whatever I need to do. Get to class, get to the store, whatever… In fact, I probably could get a gym membership or something like that. It would be really nice to have that back in my life. I've gotten pretty far out of shape in the last few months.

Yeah, that's what I'll do. On the way back to the house, I can swing by that gym over by the warehouse district. It's Friday, and the first of the month, so it might even have a special on…

Oh, shit.

I pull the Jeep over to the curb and look at my book on the seat next to me.

It's Friday, which means I have a lab, and I forgot my lab notes.

Where's my head at? Oh, yeah… got a little distracted by the fapping this morning, I guess. I must have been still a little flustered and I forgot to bring my lab notes with me.

Since the street is deserted, I just pull a U-turn and head back. I’ve got plenty of time before class so it shouldn't be a problem to dash upstairs and retrieve my lab notes from the small desk.

I park the Jeep in the driveway and key into the front door, bolting up the stairs two at a time, hoping that I don't wake Daniel by mistake.

When I get to the top of the stairs, I can hear some sound. Some churning sound like… I don’t know what. Talking? No. Whispering? Crying?

I tiptoe to the end of the hall, nearly to Daniel’s room. It’s him; I’m certain. But I’ve never heard his voice like this before. Is he all right?

All of a sudden, I hear him yell.

“Kita!”

I rush to the door, opening it and half expecting to find him in some emergency. But through the morning sunlight’s glare, I see him at the foot of his bed. He's gripping the bedpost, his other hand curled around his thick, rigid cock. He grunts like an animal as he jerks rhythmically.

I stand completely still, totally shocked, not sure what to do as he thrusts into his hand, two, three times and then comes everywhere, shooting out a stream of pearly liquid that splashes against the dark bedspread and instantly puddles in abstract, connected splotches.

I've never seen this before. I’ve never even seen a man fully naked before. I feel like I should run away, but I am transfixed. Every muscle in his body is straining, standing out in relief under his smooth, glossy, sweaty skin. The white, ropey liquid gleams in the muted sunlight. He strokes himself a couple more times, his back heaving as he pants.

He takes a small step forward, rearranging himself to stand up. I remember suddenly what I'm doing and back away, closing the door silently behind me. Thanking my lucky stars he didn’t hear me, I rush into my room to get the book and then back out into the hall and down the stairs. I’m practically sprinting to the front door but stepping as lightly as possible so that he won't know that I've seen him.

My heart is pounding when I get back into the Jeep, but as soon as I sit down I realize how my body reacted. My panties are wet, practically soaked through, and I have to hold my thighs tightly together to keep myself from trembling.

Did I just see what I thought I saw?

And did he really call my name?