Art School Confidential Pt. 02


Art School Confidential – Part Two

Episode Six – Potluck

Elina was not easily deterred. Another text around three: [I need big man 2nite why wait?]

It was blatant and, he realized, very good for his ego, even if she was a little scary in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But the potluck, and Aimee’s visit, would have his attention this evening.

Phoenix and Willa were adding their dish to those on the big table under the oaks when he heard the crunch of gravel on the drive. Aimee stepped from her Corolla and walked up to them in t-shirt and faded jeans, carrying a Kroger bag, looking as fresh and pink and pluckable as a ripe peach. The remembered image of her and Willa in the dual amazon pose jacked up his heart rate.

“I brought Chunky Monkey!” She held the bag out to Willa who took her by the arm and led her to the barn, saying, “Let’s put this in the freezer for now.” They were gone for some long minutes and when they returned, looking both serious and conspiratorial, Phoenix had to wonder what his mother was up to exactly. He had Tuesday to look forward to, but here was Aimee now and maybe he could move their relationship along today. He was feeling horny and confident enough to try. Maybe he could touch that body she’d displayed for him yesterday.

“You two look like you’re up to something,” he dared ask when they joined him at the table, “Comparing notes on Dr. Scarpelli?”

“Can we have a talk?” asked Aimee, holding out her hand, “show me around the place?”

Phoenix leapt at the chance to get Aimee alone and led her through the field ringed by the oaks, giving the abbreviated history of his home. He worked his arm around her waist and pulled her close as they walked. He felt his blood boiling with the girl against him, as close as they’d ever been, remembering her naked in the studio, those perky tits, smooth belly, her tan lines. Her hip rubbed his leg as they walked. The urge to merge was rising in him, buoyed by the confidence instilled by his mother, the guidance of Scarpelli and the conviction that Aimee was on board with it all. It was good to be wanted and it all went to his head.

“Phoenix, I think we’d better talk about what’s going on between us,” Aimee said, looking up, serious, maybe hungrily. She pulled away and held him at arm’s length. Her hands on his forearms were electric. “Your mom says she’s teaching you about sex. Is that right?”

“Mmm, yeah, she’s been reading Scarpelli. Really inspired by him.”

“She was a little vague about the details…” her brow furrowed, “Are you two able to talk about everything? I can’t imagine what that’s like. My parents go catatonic at the idea of talking about sex. These books, the internet and your mom have been, well ‘encouraging’ is maybe a good word for it.”

“Well, yes, accurate information is essential and honesty’s one of the most important things Scarpelli says.”

“It’s really weird for me knowing that your mom expects us, actually wants us, to have sex. My family would think that’s so fucked up. We haven’t even talked about it ourselves, Phee.” She looked nervous. “So strange to think she’s giving me permission to take your virginity.”

“Wait a minute! But, she’s taking…I mean, she told you I’m a virgin?” Maybe Aimee hadn’t gotten to Chapter Ten. Didn’t she realize that his mom would have that honor? He must have looked confused.

“I do want to!” Aimee blurted, reassuringly. “But I’m practically a damned virgin myself. I’ve come to the understanding that the things that turn me on are ‘normal’ at least for me and I shouldn’t be ashamed. But I think that’s only an intellectual understanding. I’m really nervous to try them in real life”

Suddenly Phoenix realized what this meant. Here was the girl he’d dreamed of throwing herself at him, telling him they were going to be lovers, even if she was as nervous as he’d been. There was a sudden fire between his legs, balls churning and dick swelling as the certainty of that dream-come-true struck him. They could get over the nerves together! He wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her up, crushing her to his chest, feeling her warm breasts against him. He wanted to rip her clothes off and plow her right there under the oak tree. The simple idea of getting laid by her overcame him. He growled and bit her neck.

Aimee squealed and struggled in his arms, inflaming him further. Phoenix reached to press her mouth down to his, her feet dangling above the ground. He knew she could feel his engorged cock against her stomach and he ground on her, dragging her into a rough kiss. Aimee screamed into his mouth as he thrust his tongue into hers and began pounding on his shoulders with her little fists. She broke the kiss with effort, “Let me down! What are you doing?!”

“What?” Phoenix said, puzzled, sliding her down his body. “You said you want to. I want to, too!”

“Phoenix, not like this. Not just a, a, a rut in a field!” She was walking away quickly. “I thought you were a gentle man. bahis şirketleri I don’t want to be jumped out of nowhere.”

“Uugghhh,” Phoenix groaned, exasperated. He’d fucked up. Now his dream was walking away and mad at him. She said she wanted to! “We could go to my room!” he said, following her across the grass.

“We’re not animals, Phoenix.” She kept her back to him as she marched toward Willa and the potluck table. Willa looked up, curious.

“What’s happened?” she asked, seeing the distress in Aimee and her son’s plaintive look.

“Well,” Phoenix argued to Aimee, “According to Scarpelli, yes, we are and we have to accept that,” He looked to his mother for support.

“We are what?” asked Willa.

“Animals,” he said, “That’s kinda the point of The Method, isn’t it? Get back to basic drives and embrace them early instead of taking our chances randomly?”

Aimee sighed, “I’m going home, Professor. Sorry. This is too fast. Keep the ice cream.”

“Oh, Aimee, I’m sorry, too. You do what you feel is right and I’ll have a little talk with this boy.”

Turning, Aimee said, “Phoenix, I was going to see if you wanted to make a plan to make love to each other. Take our time. But now I need to think about it. Listen to your mother.”

God, now he was put in his place by both women. He slouched, frustrated. Willa looked disappointed. He wanted to go hide somewhere. Time to take matters into his own hands. So he turned his back on both of them and walked away. Phoenix strode to the barn and pulled out his phone, opening the text from Elina. [I’m coming! ;)] he replied and went to get his bike to pedal to her apartment without explaining himself to Willa or Aimee.

On the ride over he felt his lust stirring, rising up and driving him. Well, at least he knew that when this one said she wanted to, she really wanted to. On her doorstep he stood tall, felt his animal self rise up on its hind legs. He had the sense to check his texts before knocking on Elina’s door: [I’m ready for you] she’d replied.

When the tall Latvian came to the door, statuesque and fiery in volleyball shorts and top, he paused on the threshold, taking a deep breath, looking her up and down, gathering his power. She pulled him in and took a moment to look him in the eye, liking what she saw there.

“Let’s not waste time,” she said, and started by unzipping his hoodie. She jiggled like there was nothing underneath her clothes. He quickly found out that was true when he pulled her top over her head, tangling her hairy arms. Her jugs swung free, nipples already tight and swollen. She got back to ripping off his hoodie and t-shirt and he slid down, suckling each breast on his way.

Elina held his head to her chest and sighed as he worked his mouth eagerly and roughly around each globe, hefting them and gnawing in his excitement. Whatever chemicals were coursing through his bloodstream this first time suckling other tits than his mom’s, they made him dizzy. Stamping a foot, Elina pushed him down. She snorted as his nose trailed in the light fuzz that covered her body.

Phoenix settled to his knees, pulled down her shorts and kissed his way across her ribcage, bellybutton, the plane that sloped to her mound where the thick hair tickled his chin. He followed the darker happy-trail of hair down her middle. He crouched and reached around to cup her muscled rear, pulling her to his mouth. Pressing with his tongue, he felt for the cleft on each side, drooling there, then probed and found her wet slit. In the folds nestled her hard little clit, already thickening for him. Elina’s moan was loud and throaty.

Phoenix concentrated on pleasuring her with what he’d learned from his mother that morning, trying to apply his mouth like she’d guided his fingers. He took it slow, he circled the target, he teased the dripping folds of her vulva and she moaned, spreading her feet, pressing her hips into his face, holding his head to her firmly and guiding his mouth. He watched this scene as if from across the room. Something kept him apart from the experience, judging his performance, a little self-conscious. His own arousal was on the back burner. He wondered if Willa would approve of his technique. If she’d cheer him on. If she’d like this same attention. Would her hand be as firm on the back of his head? Rather than standing over him would she lie there and tremble all soft and vulnerable as he knelt between her legs? Did she taste like metal and salt and syrup like this woman did?

Elina pulled him to his feet and pressed her mouth to his, tasting her own excitement there. Then she propelled him backward and he fell across the bed. Before he could react she pulled his shorts and boxers to his ankles, revealing his neglected erection. She climbed over him, placed one hand on the slab of his chest and reached with the other to grasp his hardness, directed it upward and began her descent. Phoenix locked eyes on her swaying breasts, remembered the dream of his mother nourishing him. bahis firmaları He observed how much larger Elina was than Willa who he could toss around like a bale of hay. Her hand was course. That pelvis lowering over him had weight and power to it. What if he got bent? He’d read how a guy could get a crooked penis from that kind of accident.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Phoenix remembered the scene in Dune where the Bene Gesserit Mother Superior, while holding a poison needle to his throat, tells Paul Atreides to put his right hand in a box that will deliver excruciating pain.

Phoenix softened in Elina’s rough hand before she could impale herself on him and she groaned with disappointment. She muttered something in Latvian.

“Sorry,” he offered, as the excitement drained from him, replaced with embarrassment and some frustration of his own. He still had his shoes on and shorts tangled around his ankles.

“Are you jaunava? No sex before?” asked Elina, curtly, sliding off of him, dropping his limp organ.

“You mean virgin? Uhhh, well….mostly?” Now shame rose in him, too. What was wrong with him?

“What is mostly virgin? You can’t be pusjaunava, half virgin.” Elina sat cross-legged beside him as he lay there feeling humiliated. She was so matter of fact about her nudity, with her fine pelt of dark hair, so relaxed in her body. Phoenix sure didn’t feel that way with her. His conditioning had a ways to go if he was going to fully inhabit his animal body, apparently. It was all regressing now. The work his mother’d done to make him comfortable naked wasn’t holding up to real world experience.

Elina took a deep breath. “OK, so you’re nervous. Not the first time I upuret, how to say it….sacrifice a virgin. Don’t be scared.”

“That image isn’t helping.” Phoenix pulled himself up to lean on the pillows, wanting to cover his now unimpressive equipment, feeling intimidated. He had to admit he was afraid. Why did fear suddenly impose itself? He remembered the rest of that scene from Dune. Paul’s mother, Jessica, telepathically supports him with the most famous quote from the book. “I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

Taking up his cock in her hand again and looking him in the eye, Elina said, “Fear is the mind killer.”

“You know Frank Herbert?” Phoenix blurted, surprised.

“Frank who? No, coach Fedorov say this every day.” She began stroking him. “You want to do sex, right?”

“Yes, uh, yeah,” he wanted to, wasn’t sure if his cock was going to cooperate. He was so horny when he got here. He’d not only never had sex, he’d never been impotent. Why did they both have to happen at the same time? His cock had never betrayed him before. So confusing.

“You try again, yes?” Elina was still stroking him, firmly but gently, and she leaned in and kissed his mouth, teasing his lips with her tongue. Phoenix tried to relax, let the fear ‘pass over him and through him’. He was still watching the two of them from a distance, couldn’t abandon himself to the feelings while she addressed her warm hand to his half-hearted organ, pulling and squeezing. It seemed he couldn’t let the fear go as long as he was thinking about that fear. For a long minute he tried to just feel her touching him, to enjoy her mouth on his. Then he thought about how it was Paul and Jessica’s bond that helped when Paul’s hand was in that box.

Phoenix thought of Willa. He imagined her mouth on his and that one real kiss they’d shared. He imagined Willa’s soft hand stroking him, using his own drippings for lubrication. And he swelled in Elina’s grip, who grunted appreciatively, a hum against his lips. In his head his mother knelt over him and tenderly ministered to his need. His lust arose again and filled his cock.

Elina kissed her way down, nipping at his collarbones, laying a warm tongue on each nipple then biting just enough to make him jump in surprise and excitement. He didn’t know his nipples would react that way. That little jolt made his cock jump, too. And drip.

“Mmmm,” groaned Elina as she descended on him, taking the fat, wet cockhead into her mouth.

This is what it felt like, the all-over hotness, the wet slipperiness of a mouth on his knob! He felt enormous between her lips as she sucked. He thought of his mother’s eyes when they were naked in front of each other that morning, how hungry they looked. He kept his eyes closed and Willa in his mind as Elina held his purple bulb of a cock between her lips and let her tongue swirl around the crown.

He remembered that ‘the little death’ wasn’t a phrase used just to describe fear but also orgasm. Maybe Herbert was on to something. Maybe abandonment to pleasure was the same mechanism as that which let the fear flow over him? He couldn’t kaçak bahis siteleri control either one. Maybe Paul and Jessica’s telepathic bond was Oedipal. Now he was shipping the Atreides mother and son as he imagined his own mother’s mouth on his cock.

Elina’s mouth on his cock was insistent, talented, hungry. The tongue moved across his most sensitive spots with confidence, coaxing him higher. What if there was a scene in Dune when Paul and Jessica were lost in the desert of Arrakis, trapped in that flier under the sand and their bodies joined as completely as their minds could? What if she needed to give him strength and courage and she showed him like he imagined his own mother was doing? What if Willa worshiped him as the chosen one, too, made herself subservient, crawled on her knees to suck him?

Images of his mother rose and fell in his head: Willa on the model platform, an amazon; painting topless, breasts jiggling as she stroked the paint on the canvas; sprawled open before him, showing him how to give her pleasure; squirming in his arms as she lay spayed on his chest; sitting at the kitchen table pleasuring herself as she stared at the business end of his heavy cock while he stroked; embellished images of her with his cum dripping from her chin, oozing down her breasts, dripping from a nipple; of Willa kneeling before him with both tiny hands stacked on his pole and pulling it toward her mouth, smiling and eager. He was both Phee and Paul and his mother worshiped him.

In his mind Willa said “feed me, Phee” and his body convulsed, driving upward into Elina’s mouth as he came, suddenly and freely, imagining his mother gulping down each gout of thick, white seed as he erupted, out of control.

Elina groaned in disappointment and pulled back. He shot across her face and she wiped it with the back of her hand. “Sasodits!” she spat, looking vexed. He flopped and spurted, the cum splattering both of them. His orgasm quickly peaked and faded. He was embarrassed again, dizzy from climax and sick from the premature ejaculation. Phoenix spiraled down from the high and deflated into the bed.

“Just go home now,” Elina said, getting up and using a towel on her face. “You’re just a boy. Not ready for lover.” She waved him away and he quickly dressed, hopping awkwardly, pulling up his shorts. He went to the door.

“Look, I’m sorry, Elina. I really wanted…,” frozen with his hand on the doorknob. He had wanted to get laid so badly. But it felt unfinished, rushed. He knew he’d left her unsatisfied. He wasn’t satisfied either, even though he’d come. He wasn’t the master of his cock. Guilty, he saw it had taken what it could get. But he knew it wasn’t mutual, or fair. It was hardly different than when he masturbated to fantasies about Willa.

“Just go. I’ll take care of myself.” She turned from him dismissively and he left, dispirited. There was an anger in him now, too. He wanted to go back and grab Elina, bend her over and pound her with his iron-hard cock until she couldn’t take it anymore, match her power with power. Revenge for the humiliation. Maybe that was the way she liked it. But that’s what he thought he’d be doing when he knocked on her door. Why couldn’t he do it? The ride home through the darkness was a sad and troubled one.


Episode Seven – Whiplash

Phoenix rose late Sunday morning after a night of restless dreaming, mostly about being lost in a school building, not being able to find his class. Sometimes he found the class, but had been skipping all semester and wasn’t prepared for the test. Failing the test, he’d fail completely. Those kind of dreams.

Well, he thought, as he shook off the effects and tried to get moving, I certainly failed yesterday. Am I ever gonna get laid? Maybe his mom and Tuesday were still happening, but he was feeling like he’d probably screw that up, too. There were two whole days to screw it up in. He took Elina off of his spreadsheet altogether.

His mom was down in the kitchen banging pots around. Sunday was her day to do breakfast, so that was a good sign. Toaster waffles! The hot shower helped him feel better. Instead of going naked he dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. There’d been a big setback in his re-conditioning.

“Phee!” Willa yelled just as he approached the top of the stairs.

He leaned over the railing. “I’m coming down now.”

“Oh, could you bring your copy of Come As You Are down with you, please?”

Oh, no. Sounded like she wanted to get into it already this morning. “Right,” he said and arrived at the breakfast table, book in hand, apprehensive about his prospects. She was fully dressed this morning, too. Not a good sign for Tuesday. The result of all the nudity of the last week was that he could see his mother naked under her peasant skirt, could feel her melon breasts and warm skin. His body remembered the full length touching from the afternoon before. It kept his motor running despite the apprehension. Being told it could have her on Tuesday, his body wanted her always.

Putting two plates of waffles on the table beside the OJ and syrup, Willa sat and took a deep breath, looked Phoenix in the eye and said, “I’m doing this all wrong.”

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