Chapter 359: Atlantic Theatre [12] [R-18 Contents!]
"Alright," I said quietly, and moved forward, lowering myself to my knees in front of her.
Maribel kept her face turned down, hair falling slightly forward, the flush on her cheeks deep enough to be visible even in the low light. Her arms stayed wrapped around her knees, holding herself together.
I picked up Maribel’s torchlight from the ground and turned the brightness to its maximum, then angled it toward the large white screen behind us. The light bounced back off it and spread across the dais in a soft, diffused glow, not bright enough to be harsh, enough to see by. A thin beam from the projection room above added to it, cutting a pale rectangle across the floor.
It was as good as we were going to get.
I looked at her. She was still holding herself tight, knees drawn up, face turned away, the flush on her cheeks not fading.
"Before anything else, your body needs to be ready," I said. "Especially since it’s your first time. If I don’t prepare you properly it might hurt more than it needs to."
"What do I need to do," she asked, still not looking at me.
"Nothing. Just let me, and try to relax. That’s the only thing you need to do."
She bit her lower lip. Slowly, with visible effort, she lowered her arms from around her knees. Her legs stayed crossed, feet together, but the wall she’d built around herself had come down one layer.
I reached out and rested my hands lightly on her knees.
She shivered. But she didn’t pull away.
I moved slowly, everything slowly, no sudden movements, nothing that could feel like force even though the infection in her arm was doing exactly that beneath her skin. The last thing I wanted was for this to be something she carried badly. She hadn’t chosen this situation. Neither had I. But we were in it, and I could at least make sure it wasn’t something that left marks beyond the ones that would heal.
So I moved her legs apart slowly, giving her body time to adjust to each inch of movement. Her bare feet shifted against the carpet, moving outward gradually until her legs were spread enough to reveal her completely.
And no matter how much I’d been with women, no matter how familiar I was with the female body and its various expressions of vulnerability, it still caught my breath slightly.
Maribel’s pussy looked delicate ,almost incongruously so compared to how she carried herself normally. Closed softly, the skin a slightly lighter shade than her warm caramel tone, with just the faintest blush of pink peeking between her folds.
I felt heat spread through my entire body immediately, my own biology responding with embarrassing enthusiasm. The Symbiote didn’t help, I could feel it amplifying everything, every hormone, every instinct, pushing hard against the careful control I was maintaining.
I wrestled it back and kept my hands controlled.
I positioned myself between her legs and rested my right hand lightly against her inner knee. Maribel, unable to bring herself to watch, simply laid back slowly until she was flat on her back, her legs remaining where I’d positioned them, surrendering her lower body to my care entirely.
The gesture of trust in that small action hit somewhere deep in my chest.
I reached out with my right hand then, moving slowly across the inside of her thigh, tracking the warmth of her skin as I traveled inward. I could feel her muscles tightening slightly with each inch I covered, her body instinctively bracing.
"Breathe," I reminded her quietly.
I heard her exhale.
My fingers reached the junction of her thighs and stopped just short of contact. I held still there for a moment, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her core, close enough that she would know the contact was coming.
Then I touched her slit with the very lightest pressure of my fingertips.
"Nunh!" Maribel let out a muffled sound immediately, her legs going rigid on either side of me, thighs tensing.
I kept my touch impossibly gentle, barely there, like testing the surface of water. I spread her legs a little wider to give myself more room and angled my arm properly, then returned my index and middle fingers to her slit, stroking with feather-light pressure.
"Hmm!" Another small sound escaped her, quickly suppressed.
"Just relax your body," I said. "You’re holding everything tight. I need you to let go a little. I won’t do anything sudden."
I waited patiently, my fingers resting but not moving.
A few seconds passed. Then I felt the gradual, reluctant easing of tension in her inner thighs. Still not relaxed, not truly, but softer than before.
I began again with gentle strokes, tracing the outline of her outer folds without penetrating, learning the geography of her with the same patience I’d approach anything delicate. My left hand moved to her raised right knee, stroking along her thigh in long, soothing passes.
"Hmm... nnn... mm..." Small sounds escaped her with each stroke, clearly involuntary, clearly unwanted but unable to be fully contained. Her head moved to the side, away from me, her eyes staying closed. A dark brown strand of hair fell across her cheek.
I continued the gentle external stimulation, circling and stroking along her mound without rushing toward anything more. This part mattered. This was the part that would determine everything that followed.
And I could feel her responding despite herself , warmth building, a faint dampness beginning to gather beneath my fingertips where there had been none before.
I used that timing carefully. When I felt enough natural moisture gathering, I let my index finger press more firmly against her center, finding the soft seam of her entrance.
The tip of my finger began to part her folds.
"Hnng... no...!" She let out despite her body reacted completely contrary to that protest. Her hips shifted slightly, not quite pulling away, not quite pressing forward. Caught between instinct and intention.
I didn’t stop. I continued with the same careful, letting her entrance slowly accommodate the intrusion of my fingertip.
"Haa!" Her breath came out sharp as I pushed in the first third of my finger, her inner walls fluttering around the gentle intrusion.
"Breathe through it," I said quietly. "Your body knows what to do. Just let it."
My left hand moved from her knee to her hip, resting there with light warmth - not restraining, just present. An anchor point. Something to tell her nervous system that this was controlled, that she was safe, that nothing here would hurt her.
"Haah... hnn... this..."
I began to move my finger in the most minimal way, barely a motion at all, just the slightest coaxing movement designed to encourage her body to relax further, to produce more of the natural arousal that would make everything that followed comfortable rather than painful.
She was incredibly tight nonetheless.
I intended to give her all of it anyway.
"Still okay?" I asked her.
There was a long pause. Then, almost imperceptibly, she gave a nod.
Good. That was enough to continue.
I worked slowly deeper, watching her face carefully, reading every micro-expression, the flicker of discomfort versus the involuntary softening of genuine arousal. I could feel the difference between her body tensing against me and relaxing around me, and I adjusted accordingly, always staying one step behind where her body was ready to go rather than one step ahead.
"Haah... that’s... hmm..."
Her sounds were changing to something more vulnerable unbecoming of Maribel’s confident voice that made immediately my cock twitch involuntarily inside my pants.
Her hips moved again, another small involuntary shift, this time toward my hand rather than away.
Her body reacted entirely on its own, moved by pleasure she’d never felt before and didn’t yet have the vocabulary to recognize. Her hips shifted toward my hand again with a small, unconscious, completely beyond her control and she didn’t even notice, keeping her eyes closed, hands clenched tight against the carpet of the elevated dais.
Feeling her resistance dissolving, replaced by something her body was beginning to want despite her mind’s complicated relationship with the situation, I chose to accelerate carefully.
I plunged my index finger deeper in one smooth motion and simultaneously pressed my middle finger against her entrance alongside it.
"Haa—ahnn!"
Her inner walls immediately tightened around my index finger like a reflex. I worked my middle finger inside her alongside the first, stretching her gently, and began stroking her inner walls with both.
"N—No—wait—haaah!"
She cummed instantly.
It hit her so fast she clearly didn’t understand what was happening. Her thighs tried to close against my arms, her legs crossed against my waist, and she raised her head sharply off the carpet, eyes snapping open, blurry and completely unfocused, her expression twisted into something between shock and overwhelming pleasure.
I stayed completely still, watching her come undone around my fingers with my mouth slightly open.
Her inner walls pulsed rhythmically around my fingers in powerful contractions, gripping and releasing, gripping and releasing. Fresh arousal flooded against my hand, coating my fingers completely and dripping down my palm.
"Hmm!" She lowered her head back to the carpet almost immediately, overwhelmed, her hips shifting awkwardly and restlessly as my fingers stayed buried inside her through the aftershocks. The movement was unconscious, her body chasing and simultaneously retreating from the intensity of what it was feeling.
Her fluids leaked steadily down my fingers, her walls still clenched tight around them in the lingering grip of orgasm.
I swallowed despite myself, my own body responding to the sight and sensation with considerable arousal that I kept in check.
I waited until her walls stopped their rhythmic pulsing before slowly, carefully withdrawing my fingers. The movement drew a small involuntary sound from her.
"Haa... hm..." She moaned softly, the sound loose and unguarded in a way none of her sounds had been until now. Her mind was clearly still reeling, still processing the sudden pleasure that had crashed through her completely without permission.
