2b. In the darkroom. It
Sunday, June 7th, 2009And the hands, freed from the prison of the body, had continued playing alone the dusty zithers in the halls of the Palace and it was said that night, when the monsoon raged and kept hearing more music than the howling of the wind and patter of rain, freezing those hands were lost in the body of his lover, trying to recover some of the warmth of life.
Felt his own body on, need to figure out who were those hands that ever played, no one had touched him. 
He returned the caress, hands sought at that time were on his waist, trying to cut through his body and his companion, looking down the button on her blouse. He took his hands, who doubted an instant, thinking he wanted to retire. By contrast, hugged his waist, bringing the body that belonged to his back. And he felt, clearly defined, breasts that were leaning against it, while a woman's voice asked:
I can?
any response as your body off a little of your partner, leaving room for the buttons reached. Within seconds I had her blouse open, and hands caressed her breasts, a caress wise, neither too hard nor too soft, while the body of her (now I knew it was her) hugged his. All these movements could no longer go unnoticed by her partner, who split a bit to see them both. She had her eyes closed, pending only the touch of her hands on her body. The hands were kept busy between the skin and bra, and then moved slowly, so slowly downward, dropping his trousers belt and step in a movement of prestidigitation, until you reach the soft fuzz that barely covered her sex, and lost there for a while endless.
I could not believe it was she, who had never attracted to women who were there, standing motionless, legs slightly apart to leave a wet road in the hands of another woman.
The route they were doing was so different from men, she noticed that sometimes wandering, lost, through the maze and folds of her female body, and not without its vein of taste, as he called it, if not even with the essence of his femeidad, the area that made him lose sight of the world. Those fingers were located quickly, moved with precise timing, but she probably would have done different, stronger, less timidly.
And she also wanted to be participatory, turned to the woman, forgot her partner, and pass their hands under her sweater. I had never touched a woman's breasts, he surprised the sensuality of your skin, so different from that of men. Involuntarily compared with his size. They were much smaller, but also firm as a green apricot. He felt a little envious, to think that, being so small, it was easy to be maintained drives, and would have liked to see if the stranger, with breasts like yours would have had the same attention. Hand through the nipples, feeling an immediate response, and a chill. But the chill was in his body.
