Acele: A Newhalf Story free porn video

A scene you are familiar with:

A tiny blue marble is suspended in a sunbeam. Forest covered landmasses floating on great blue bodies of water. At night, great cities light up like golden tron lines. Carried on radio waves the endless chatter of baseball games, music, and political commentary dissipate in the ionosphere. This is planet Earth where the most powerful telescope gazes far into the past. The voice of the universe sounds like static; the future is dark, cold and silent.

But never mind that. Let’s focus on the here and now. On the northeastern coast of the North American continent is a rain-washed city founded 390 years ago by puritans from Europe. Ten minutes on foot from the shopping center is a row of townhouses. Nestled on a plot of land surrounded by the townhouses, at the street address of 3922 Allen Street is an angular, concrete apartment building. Its name, as recorded in the heart of the city, is Sunside Studio Apartments.

Six one-bedroom flats span three floors organized around a spiral staircase. The building’s spinal column. It’s open air landings are lined with slender railings. In the center of the gently sloping roof is a triangular skylight.

… I’d like to introduce you to someone. The tenant of apartment #3. Imagine standing in front of Sunside 3922, the second floor, window on the right is her apartment. Her name is Acele.

Acele Vittulainen. Regular girl. An absolutely normal person with no special skills whatsoever. The type that goes out of her way to make herself look as boring as possible. Ironically, more people are attracted to her. People do enjoy getting to know her, which she would rather not. You see, Acele has a secret. She’s what you’d call—

Wait, you’re going to start there?

Hm? Why yes I am. It’s the entire premise of your life, basically. Why shouldn’t I start there?

It’s not that you shouldn’t, but… I was thinking you should work up to it, right? Start with a de***********ion first? Introductions are important, right?

My darling Acele, nobody remembers introductions. The first words you say to someone are probably ‘Hey’ or ‘Good morning’ as you’re passing them by. Why would you remember that? It’s not important.

But maybe you’re right. If not your first words, then your first thoughts of someone are more important. Thinking someone is cute or funny or obnoxious will affect how you perceive them.

So let’s start over.

Lying in bed, naked as the day she was born is a nineteen-year-old girl. Her name is Acele Vittulainen. A Cinderella girl. Not the glass slipper princess, the dishwasher with mice for friends with huge glasses over myopic brown eyes. Her hair is the color of chestnuts kept in a long ponytail. A girl of average height and weight with a slender figure, her breasts were not terribly big and no ass to speak off. With a fairly deep, croaky sounding voice to boot.

And a total virgin. The most sexual experience she has was another girl grabbing her ass in junior high. Not that she minded it. In the game of men and women, she played both sides. Or would have liked to.

A boring, regular person. Right down to her job: retail detail in a DVD rental store.

But even someone as normal as this her has secrets. For the sake of our story, that can be easily revealed:

This girl’s body has a peculiar characteristic, but one that many people have. Due to a chromosome abnormality, Acele has both female and male genitalia. A vagina, small and tight in their shadow. Both functional. A penis that came with its own pair of balls.

Intersexed. Hermaphrodite. Politically correct terms abound, but colloquially speaking, ‘Newhalf’ is the popular term used. It is also what Acele prefers, so we’ll use it too.

Growing up, it didn’t bother her much. Then puberty hit. She awoke one night (after a particular steamy dream) to find her cock uncomfortably hard and still wrapped in the illusory warmth of her phantom lover. That was the first time she masturbated. Her first ejaculation. Her hand covered in sticky glue, the pleasure of her first orgasm was profound. She hasn’t missed a day since. Masturbating became a part of who she is. Her favorite thing to do when off from work is watch porn. She searched and scoured every part of the web for kindle to feed her lust.

And what so interests her, you might ask? What perversions did she wank it to every night? Well…

Black girls with huge asses, black guys with huge cocks, hot wives who love creampies and femboys who love to press the cum button in their ass until they shoot on their faces. Lesbians? Of course. Bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, breeding and cuckolding to name a few. She could (and did) spend hours watching sluts the world over get their whore holes pounded all the while enviously pinching her nipples and stroking her cock wondering when it would be her turn. And the best part? With her own place now she need not worry about being discreet.

You don’t need to list everyone of my fetishes… or go into so much detail about my body…

God only knows a list with all your kinks would be longer than Santa’s good and naughty lists combined.

—Today, it’s business as usual in Acele’s studio apartment.

A raunchy porn video plays on her cell phone. An interracial lesbian threesome. The setting takes place in prison. The story, such as it was: The warden, an older blonde white woman and her chief security officer, a brash short-haired Asian girl, were showing the new recruit, a young, timid, submissive black girl, the ropes.

More specifically the handcuffs. The recruit had apparently screwed up with making sure one of the inmates was detained properly. At present, her arms were behind her back with steel bracelets adorning her wrists. The warden is sitting on the desk, a plastic dildo emerging from the opening in her zipper. The CSO stands behind the recruit, forcing her head into the warden’s crotch. She’s already abandoned her pants revealing not a strap-on, but a girl-cock of her own. For the moment though, it’s her fingers that a buried deep in the recruit’s cunt.

“Mmm look at her go. She’s a natural cock sucker.” The Warden is real pleased.

The Chief Security Officer agrees, “Yeah, her pussy’s real wet too. I think sucking cock gets her off.”

“And she’s so good at it too. This definitely isn’t her first rodeo. You love sucking cock don’t you?”

The Warden doesn’t allow the recruit to pull her mouth off the silicon. A muffled “Mmhm” is all the poor recruit can manage.

“Know what? I think we should throw her in the shower later with the rest of the inmates.”

“Yeah, then she can suck as many cock as she likes. Maybe getting their dicks sucked will get them to behave for once.” It’s a win-win. Approving of this idea, the CSO gives a firm slap to the recruit’s ass. “Hear that bitch? Doesn’t that make you happy?”

Her mouth obscured by the toy, the recruit’s pussy gives a firm answer instead. The CSO works her fingers faster, the sound of her wet pussy fills the Warden’s office.

“She’s squeezing my fingers so fucking tight right now. I think she likes that idea.”

The Warden turns up the heat.

“All those white boys would die to get their dicks in your little black ass. What do you think of that, recruit?”

“And you better give her a straight fucking answer, recruit! On your knees sucking off those rock hard white cocks and guzzling their kids. Yes or no?”

Ah, race play. Acele likes that too. She often imagines herself in the starring role of the lucky white slut getting gang-banged by hung chocolate studs.

Or balls deep inside an arrogant black chick. Making her a slave to my white girl-cock!

...So she fantasizes. Who did she envy more? The ebony starlet about to be spit roasted or her ‘superiors?’

Why does this turn me on so much?

Beads of clear, sticky juice leak from the opening in her pink tip like sap. It’s caught on her fingers and smeared on the rest of her cock by her quick pumps.

Is it that she’s more into women than men? The race play, maybe? The interplay of domination and submission? She’s thought about it a lot. Too much, in fact; she’s kind of a switch now. A theoretical one.

No, it’s much simpler than that.

What is it then?

It’s their faces. Their moans. Your mirror neurons are overloading with ecstasy. One moment the recruit is deep-throating you. Then the POV switches and you’re behind her, your hips slamming into her ass while ramming your girl-cock into her tight, sopping wet cunt. You’re not whispering sweet nothings, but the dirtiest, awkwardest things that pop in their head. There are cameramen, producers, a director, and more people surrounding them. Their uniforms are costumes and the handcuffs are fake props. Bright lights illuminate them and yet… one thing is clear.

They’re having fun. That’s the short and sweet of it. Just like the actress playing the recruit, you want to be fucked so hard your eyes roll into the back of your head. You want to fuck someone so good that their eyes disappear in bliss.

Acele’s inner slut screams for release. Her hand moves in perfect sync with the CSO’s thrusts, accelerating towards the edge. Magma pools, her balls are full. Her cock trembles on the verge of eruption.

…Psst. Hey.

Huh? What? I’m close don’t bother me.

Yeah, totally hate to interrupt, but did you hear that?

...No.

No, it’s definitely there. Isn’t that the door?

The door?

Acele pauses the video and strains her ears. Silence.

It’s nothing.

—Then a sound. A knocking at the door. Softly, persistently.

I didn’t order anything. There’s nothing broken either, so it can’t be the landlord or a repairman. And I’m certainly not expecting any visitors. So I can ignore them. There’s no front door keeping people out. Might be some missionaries from Utah for all I know.

You’d be well-justified in ignoring them then. They’re pretty insistent though. Could it be someone from the city maybe? Come to check your gas meter or something like that? The police investigating a crime? Or it could be the landlord. Have you in need of wrench?

Not a wrench, but a wench haha! And a pair of handcuffs.

Good one.

Now get the door.

“Argh! Fine. COMING!”

Acele grumbles as she forces herself out of bed. She jerks on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, sans underwear and goes to open the door.

She looks through the peephole. The person is standing too close to the door. Seriously, do they have to be right up against the door?

Tap, tap—click. Acele interrupts the repetitious sound by unlocking the door. There’s a final knock anyway just to spite her. Acele opens the door.

Instantly, a rich, elegant aroma crosses the boundary. Perfume. The distinctive scent of the wealthy and famous.

Standing on the other side of the door is an oriental goddess in a black cherry blossom patterned blouse. The ‘V’ is cut so deep, looking down at just the right angle could be a perfect chance for a nip slip. She can’t be older than thirty-two. Her hair is short and black, tucked behind her ear on the right and parted to the left. Great brown moons are set in almond sockets stare back at Acele. Her lips are thin and pink. A ball of an earring hangs from her right ear.

She’s damn cute! There’s something familiar about her face too…

I know I was just watching a porn video with a short-haired Asian actress. They don’t look anything alike though. No. That actress gave off a more ‘tomboyish’ feel. This lady feels more… like a teacher? Like it wouldn’t feel strange at all to see her in front of a blackboard.

“Um… Hello?” The Goddess speaks, but all that registers is her moving lips, the teeth behind them. How charm her smile is. Her accent too, she thinks, is damn hot.

… I’ve got some bad news.

What?

The diagnosis is in: I’m afraid you’re suffering from a severe case of yellow fever. Remember that video earlier? And what turned you on so much? Forget about what I said, turns out you were only ever interested in Asian actress.

And why is that bad? I already knew that.

The bad news is that she’s right up your alley. Exposure to her is making you think about exposing yourself to her. The thing in between your legs is stiffening. Worse, you didn’t put any underwear on. Forget pitching a tent we’re talking about an empire state building sized problem. Your nipples are getting hard too.

A,And now that you mention it, I’m pretty sure that sour, post-masturbation stink is coming from me too! That’s bad, right? Bad! W, What should I do?

Focus.

On.

Something.

Else.

Quick!

L, Like what?

Look, there’s something in her hand. A plastic bag. Oh She catches your eye.

“I brought this housewarming gift,” says the Goddess. She lifts the bag, it’s stretched over a box and hands it to Acele. Their hands touch. Electricity! Goosebumps break out on Acele’s arm. Ah, but what’s this? There is something on the Goddess’ finger. It’s hard and stuck tightly on her finger. A metallic band. A ring. Engagement? Married?

“Thanks…” Acele squeezes out a single word in the voice of a love struck teenager.

I’m drawing a complete blank. What do I say?

You said thanks, there’s nothing else to say. That said, there’s something about this woman that nags at you. The longer you stare at your face, the stronger that feeling is. You should investigate more. Perhaps keeping her around a little longer will jog your memory?

“Say, um, w,would you… like to come inside?”

The Goddess gives an inquisitive look. Explain yourself. Rub the back of your head, smile, look harmless.

“It’s just, well, I was kind of hoping I’d share some of this with you.”

This ‘housewarming’ gift is a variety wheel of cheesecakes. It’s not something Acele can eat in a full day.

For a moment, the literal human embodiment of grace and elegance stands with her mouth agape. She’s hesitant on entering another person’s home. “Oh I don’t know…”

She’s just being polite. Insist!

“Just for a moment. Please?” Acele steps aside, throwing the door open. That’s all it takes. Excusing herself ‘for a moment,’ the Goddess enters.

***

It’s strange how the presence of a single person can change the atmosphere of a place. Acele’s studio apartment is not big. One bathroom, one bedroom, the bare essentials. The interior layout differs from the compartmentalized layout of modern studio’s.

The apartments are divided into three sections: the service area, the terrace and the room. The service area contains the bath and toilet. They’re not found in the same space as with most American apartments, instead the bath is a room inside a room. Outside the door is a lonely sink. The staircase is included as well in official blueprints and because each unit is mirrored, the bathrooms are built behind the stairs.

The terrace is a narrow strip of tiled floor stretching from the back window to the front. The kitchen is included in this. The room section is a combined bed and living room. A large space with room for a bed, a sofa and a reasonably-sized television.

There are not many things to give Acele’s apartment a personalized touch yet. The most she had done was have the internet installed. There were no television in her room, pictures on her walls, or trophies on display. Not even a plant in her window. Just a girl, her phone, a bed and some dreary white walls.

All she needs is a place to sleep and as few (cheap) necessities as possible. That’s what she thought, anyway. Now, with just one guest, it feels small, cramped and not at all like her own place.

“Would you like something to drink? I only have tea and soda, though…” A small matte black cube hums quietly next to the sink. Slightly larger than a safe, the miniature fridge is one of Acele’s favorite household items. Inside is a bottle of soda, half-drunk. A cool drink to edge off the hot summer afternoons, a consolation prize for a hard day’s work.

“Tea, please.”

“Tea it is!”

It feels like there’s a celebrity in her apartment and she’s really doing her best to not completely fall to pieces. Reaching into the cabinets above the sink, Acele’s fingers tremble nervously.

Still, she doesn’t stumble. She draws two tea bags without spilling the whole box, then fills the pot, already on the stove, and puts on the water to boil. Unfortunately, she used cold water. There is no dining table or chairs in her apartment yet, so there’s no seat to be offered. She apologizes for that.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to these kinds of stoves,” says Acele trying to make conversation.

A flat-top induction stove projects from the wall, an island floating in the air. Futuristic buttons, like something on a music player, layer the control panel.

“We have one in our apartment too.” The Goddess nods, studying the stove. “It’s a good thing you’ve got the right kind of pot,” she notes.

God, her accent is so fucking adorable!

“Okay? Is there a ‘wrong’ kind of pot?”

She nods. “Basically, any kind of pot or pan you can’t stick a magnet to.”

“What would have happened if I used one of those?”

“Boom.” The Goddess waves her hands miming an explosion.

“Guess I dodged a bullet then! I just brought my favorite pot.” It’s a gray little thing. A nonstick saucepan she’s had for a few years. The bottom is black and brown from years of use. It’s been used for rice and boiling noodles, but boiling water for tea is it’s main duty.

“… I’m kidding.” The Goddess smiles. “If you use the wrong pot or pan it just won’t heat up is all. Even if you put your hand on the top, it won’t burn, see?”

“AAH!”

The moment the Goddess raised her hand, Acele intercepted with her own.

“I’m just going to show you. Look,” Saying so, she reaches for the stove again.

“Stop!”

Again and again, the woman reaches her hand towards the stove. Each time, Acele deftly blocks her hand.

“Stop playing around fire!”

“That’s what I’m saying. There is no fire.” Waving her hands again, she directs Acele’s attention to the pot of water. There’s no fire burning below it, of course.

—Now she’s looking at you like you’re some kind of country bumpkin. No, just an idiot.

“You know what I mean! It’s still hot water. Okay, I get it, you won’t get burned if you touch it...will you knock it off now, please?”

“Okay, okay…” The Goddess backs down with a playful smile.

… There’s something about this back and forth that feels familiar. This needling is natural to you, somehow. Acele tilts her head, studying the woman’s face waiting for something to click.

But it doesn’t.

“Have we… met before?”

“I don’t know, have we?” She smiles.

Her voice is… not familiar at all. There’s nothing about her extremely attractive face that stands out either. Meanwhile, the Goddess stares as though waiting for Acele to figure it out.

A senior?

Nah, she’s too old. In that scenario we’re talking at best someone three to four years older. You’d remember her if you’d met her in high school. Those memories are still fresh. That means…

Middle school. It’s not like I hung out with anyone older than me back then. Limiting the field of possible adults to...

“A… teacher?”

“Maybe you have me confused me with someone else?”

It’s near impossible to get a read on her. If you do know her, she’s not acting offended at you forgetting. There’s something she’s not saying. Like Hansel leaving breadcrumbs. Maybe you do have someone else in mind and she just reminds you of them.

“Maybe…”

The conversations lulls. A short silence spent listening to the water boiling. Oh! The water’s boiling! Acele turns off the stove and pours the water into the cups she set aside. Steam rises from the cups, the hot water mixes with the tea bags to form a dark, amber liquid.

“You live alone?” The Goddess asks.

“Yeah, it’s my first time living on my own. Freedom!”

“Really?” The Goddess sounds impressed. “How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Nineteen.”

Eternally nineteen, baby.

“Are you a student?”

“I’m done with school.”

“And I’m never going back!” Acele wants to add. She’s never given higher education a serious thought before. Something with computers might be worth it, though.

“For now I’m working. Navigating the big bad world. What about you?” Acele asks as she carefully pours sugar into their tea. Each scoop is measured carefully, with all the precision of a chemist. She passes the Goddess her cup.

“Thank you.” The Goddess takes a sip and her eyes widen. It’s very good. Acele’s nailed it—the perfect balance of sugar. It’s as though all the years she’s spent sweating over boiling water and tea bags has culminated in this moment. “This is delicious!”

“Glad you enjoy it.” Acele honestly feels that way. She takes a sip of her own—and freezes with the cup to her lips.

“I used to be a teacher.” Acele almost forgot she asked. Once again, the wheels in her head set to spin. Whirring, whirring, like a washing machine on rinse.

The Goddess’ eyes fixate on Acele’s face. Watching her reaction, she continues, “I taught middle school. Seventh grade, to be exact.”

Those words are supposed to mean something. But what?

A seventh grade teacher? So I was right! Why’d she play it off like I was waaaay off?

It’s that thing teachers do. In answering a question, even if you give the correct answer, they’d still ask if you’re sure. Especially when the answer is given as a question.

“What’s the answer?” → “Thirteen?” → “You sure?” Like that.

Acele takes another hard look at the woman, scrunching her face up. I don’t know this woman.

She never said she was your teacher.

“It was my first teaching job in America,” she goes on to say. “At first, I couldn’t believe it. A school in the basement of another school. A similar thing happens in Japan. A school shuts down and those students get split up into different schools, I thought that was the case at first. That I would be teaching a class made up of kids being integrated into the new school. That’s not how it turned out though.”

Plastic rustles as Acele takes the box out of the bag. With a satisfying pop, she pries it open and pulls out the platter. It’s love at first sight with the New York style.

“I don’t think I’d ever heard of two different schools occupying the same building before.”

In the sense that one school is hosting another completely unrelated school.

“I think it was that their previous school had closed down. I’m honestly not too certain of the circumstances, but most of the kids had been sent to other schools, so I’d been told. There were only four kids worth of classes.”

Acele agrees. “That is... strange. What kind of cake would you like?”

“Ah, that one.” She points to the strawberry swirl.

At least someone’s going to eat that, thinks Acele as she cuts free one of the two red striped slices. The plate she sets it on is a bit too big, much like the fork she hands to the woman.

“Thank you, Acele.”

Just like that all doubt is blown from her mind. Acele’s heart races around a single conclusive thought: She knows my name?

How could she not? After explaining in perfect detail, your final year in junior high. It was an odd conclusion to middle school. One eighth grade class, two seventh grade classes and one sixth grade. A total of four teachers.

Her teacher that year was a woman with red hair. Miss Schwartz, she recalled. A teddy bear like man taught the sixth graders. She didn’t remember his name. And a tall, lanky man with a mohawk taught in one of the seventh grade classes. Mr. B., he was called. It spelled out something unpronounceable so everyone called him Mohawk.

With some hits and misses in names and faces, she recalled members of the staff and other teachers like the science and art teachers.

The only one she could not recall was…

The second seventh grade teacher. Who taught that class again? Who was even in that class?

Try as she might she couldn’t remember. The harder she tried, the more jumbled her memories became. Was that kid really in Mr. B’s class? Or were they in the other?

A vertical, four-drawer cabinet file stands in a dark room. Each drawer contains folders within them, names, faces, events, personal feelings and private thoughts. The third cabinet, second from the bottom, is pulled open. There are no folders. It’s empty.

“You don’t remember me at all?” The Goddess’ voice draws Acele back to reality.

“Sorry, no, I don’t…” Acele shakes her head. The Goddess sighs.

“Miss Reika Aikawa. You don’t remember my name? Nothing?”

Again, Acele shakes her head.

“I suppose it makes sense. I didn’t teach your class and my class didn’t have joint classes with the eighth graders.”

The only time all the classes would be together was during lunch. Field trips would count to, as would fire drills or special school events like graduation.

“We didn’t talk all that much either,” says Miss Aikawa. “We did chat here and there, but never one-on-one. I was either talking with someone when you came by or you were talking with someone when I happened by.”

Satellites. Forever orbiting the same space, but only crossing paths once in a while.

“Although once,” she says thoughtfully, “I did get you to try some noodles. Do you remember what kind?” She winks.

Ah,… this checks out. “After school one day, I think. It was... Indian-style noodles?” The noodles were brown and spicy, she recalls.

“Hakka noodles. I used to order it all the time for lunch back then. How can you remember eating my food but not me?”

“I think I would remember eating you.”

The words slipped out. Her senses took an unannounced leave of absence and left her without a filter. Before she can even regret her choice of words—

“Yes, I think you would.” Ms. Aikawa fires back and takes a bite out of her strawberry cake.

It’s best to just hit the reset button here. Take a deep breath, and—

“I… Sorry. My brain tells me some strange things sometimes.”

“Does it now?” The woman cocks one eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s pretty messed up.” Acele laughs. “Do you ever talk with your brain?”

“Can’t say that I do, no.” Ms. Aikawa shakes her head.

There’s genuine concern in her voice. She’s *worried about you now. Then, suddenly something unexpected.

“So you… don’t want to eat me then?”

Danger, danger, danger!

Relax. She’s not actually flirting. You’re easy to fluster. Your virginity is painfully obvious. This is a composure check. Say “yes” proudly!

“Hmm…” Acele scans the woman from head to toe. She ogles the Goddess’ breasts and hips. Acele gives a big nod. “I’d devour you whole.”

“I…” Ms. Aikawa looks on in amazement. “… don’t know what to say to that.” She sips her tea. “I didn’t think you’d answer that seriously.”

Heeeey! Look at that! Ms. Aikawa has changed her opinion of you. The wolf in sheep’s clothing. Isn’t that awesome?

Wolf? My heart’s a rabbit’s. Saying that nearly gave me a heart attack! I’m sure I just shaved a bunch of minutes off my life.

...Yeah, you’d never say something like this to someone you just met. Ms. Aikawa must be a people can-opener.

Or I’ve met her before and already feel comfortable around her.

There’s definitely some part of this woman that remains in your limbic system. She’s a shadow in your temporal lobe.

“I should get going.” Her voice snaps Acele from her thoughts.

“Already?” Acele starts to ask, but notices Ms. Aikawa’s cake is gone and her cup stands empty in the sink.

Damn, I wanted to ask more questions.

“Don’t look so happy to see me leave.”

“Huh?”

“I’m saying I do have things to do today.” Ms. Aikawa flicks Acele’s nose. “So we’ll continue our little talk later, okay?”

“Ah, yeah…” Acele nods.

There’s always tomorrow, after all. And she lives right across the hall. Acele walks Ms. Aikawa to the door. There’s a certain sway in her hips, a bounce, that triggers a memory. Once, she watched that ass walk down a long hallway.

Just outside the door, “I’ll see you later.” Ms. Aikawa waves goodbye and disappears behind her apartment door. Long after she’s gone, the smell of her perfume fills Acele’s apartment.

My husband is a workaholic. A small-time investigative reporter for a multi-language, international newspaper, I find myself alone most days and evenings while he’s out ‘chasing stories.’ Expecting to have at least one child and maybe a cat to keep me company, I put my career as a teacher on hold. Life had other plans and right now mine has begun feeling like an extinguished flame. It’s no exaggeration to say I’d fallen into a rut. I forget Holidays as individual days, like strangers, pass me by.

The one to break that monotony… was the young girl who recently moved in next door. One of my former students.

Acele.

Okay, strictly speaking, she was never ‘my’ student.

The impression she left on me is one that reminded me of a friend I used to have. As far as appearances go: glasses, ponytail, and a quiet atmosphere.

She wasn’t ‘special’ by any extraordinary sense. She was never the student her homeroom teacher complained about. She didn’t light up a room with her presence. The very definition of a normal child, if you would.

Children, no people in general tend to gravitate to social circles that they feel comfortable in. The jocks, the rebels, the academics, for example. And yet, Acele was that one student who defied that social order. She was a teacher’s pet who hung out after school long after any self-respecting thirteen-year-old would. The reason was because she got too many requests to walk home with other kids. Nobody had anything bad to say about her. And even if her accomplishments were mediocre at best, she was given overwhelming praise by people around her. She sat with the girl’s in class, played with the boys during P.E. and sat with the problem kids during lunch break. And after school, she made herself available to the teachers and other staff. By the end of it, her presence was completely natural.

The first time I spoke to her, she was staring at the ass of a girl walking past her at the lunch table. “Acele!” I surprised myself, called her name. With the guffaws of the boy sitting next to her still ringing in my ears she asked,

“You know my name?”

Six years have come and gone. It’s quite serendipitous that we ended up living next to each other.

I knew it was her right away. Her face hasn’t changed at all. Right down to her raspy voice. She’s just slightly taller now.

I AM surprised that she doesn’t remember me. At all. Frankly speaking, she’s weirder than I remember too. Or is that a function of us never having a real conversation?

I was curious. It struck me later that Acele, being a new renter, might need some help adjusting to this uniquely designed building. Armed with that convenient excuse I went visit her the next day.

A week passes. Not a day goes by that Reika misses visiting Acele. She quickly learned the girl needed help adjusting to her new apartment. Reika volunteered.

Acele said she was terrible at directions so Reika took her shopping. Ostensibly to show her around the neighborhood. It was the first time in a long while that Reika had been out with someone who wasn’t her husband.

One major issue with their compact apartments was that there wasn’t enough space for amenities like an oven or refrigerator.

“I bought the mini fridge before moving in. And it’s not like I like baking cakes and going crazy for thanksgiving.”

So the girl said, not minding the loss of some comforts. This led to Reika questioning what she did eat. The answer was not unexpected.

“Well, I usually cook sausages in the morning and on my way back home, I buy these extra-large ramen bowls. One is enough for dinner, so I buy two or three at a time.”

She worked the calories off on her bike, which she rode to and from work. Acele didn’t manage her diet as well as her bank book. She was surprisingly frugal for her age, or rather cheap. “Keep the bills as low as possible,” she said.

She is living on a smaller budget. Still, Reika thought, She should eat healthier. Which led to her conclusion that, I guess I could make something for her.

It just so happened that one day the grocery store was having a sale.

***

It’s mid-morning. Plastic bags, stretched with frozen meat and vegetables, hang from Reika’s fingers. Her thoughts are of the girl next door as she climbs the stairs to the second floor.

What kinds of food does she like? Is she allergic to anything? Seafood, for example? She ate Indian noodles, so she must be okay with spicy food.

… And so on. The wind tickles her cheek as she reaches the second floor. A metallic jingle draws her eyes to apartment #3. A silver key is stabbed into the lock just above the knob. Attached to the key chain is an orange wristlet. Three smaller keys sway and cling like door chimes.

Did Acele forget her keys? She needs to be more careful.

This is a good chance though, she thinks, to drill the dangers of a girl living alone. Carelessness costs lives, after all. She’s not going to do this to have fun.

Reika sets down the bags of groceries, she won’t be gone for that long.

“Hellooo…” Reika peeks in. There’s no reply, but then it’s not like she screamed it either. The rest of her body soon follows her head. She clutches the keys tightly in her hand, as she creeps further into the silent apartment.

The quiet is unbroken. There’s no water running or television playing. There’s no music or hushed voices. Could it be? Did Acele leave for work and forget her keys in the door? Is she sleep? A partition, included in all Sunside Studio Apartment units, blockades the room from the terrace. The one in Acele’s room is pulled halfway out. The first thing Reika notices are clothes scattered on the floor. Then the bed. The shape of a woman, kneels on its sheets.

What on earth is she doing this early in the morning??

Acele, not a scrap of clothing on her, kneels in the center of the bed. Legs thrown open, she’s leaning back, balancing her ass on her heels.

The teen’s figure is slim and lean. Her modest breasts were topped with pale, pink nipples.

Reika’s heart nearly hammers out of her chest. Her immediate reflex is to look away, but she can’t. Acele’s naked body enchants her. She’s doing something she shouldn’t and it excites her.

Then her eyes drift south and what she see’s makes her double take.

Is that a…?

It is. The thing being grasped and furiously stroked between the girl’s legs is clearly a penis. More shocking than its presence is its size. Eight inches maybe nine. And thick. It called to mind a cucumber she’d seen earlier.

Still in its sheathe, the pink head pokes itself out of its hood. She doesn’t miss the pair of balls.

They look full, Reika thinks hungrily. Her husband isn’t ‘small’ by any means, and she’s never had any complaint about his equipment. Acele is just larger.

What in the world am I thinking? I should go. Now.

Yet her feet remain where they are. Her eyes continue to feast on Acele’s huge prick—especially when Acele squeezes and begins (or resumes most likely) stroking it furiously.

Acele hasn’t noticed yet that she’s being watched. Her expression is one of utter bliss, her eyes are focused on something else. Her phone, maybe?

Then—

“Fuck! I’m going to cum! I’m cumming!”

Acele howls, her hand doubles in speed and force. Her orgasm is explosive, a blast of cloudy liquid that clears the bed and lands on the clothes on the floor. A second and third shot covers the bed. The rest oozes down her fingers.

Acele pants, her hips jerking as she squeezes the last bit of semen from her cock. Her eyes close as her consciousness is dragged off by her post-orgasmic bliss.

Now’s my chance!

The moment Reika thinks that—her phone explodes with sound. An upbeat ringtone set at maximum volume shatters the silence of the apartment. It’s her husband.

Her thumb refuses the call, but not ten seconds later it goes off again. She answers.

“Reika, what—“

“I’m sorry! I’m busy right now! Can’t talk. I’ll call you back, okay?”

She ends the call and this time holds the volume button down until the bars disappear. Until she’s certain it won’t even vibrate. Not that it matters, she quickly realizes.

Acele has her glasses on, and a pillow over her crotch. She’s gone pale, then deep red. She’s stares at the door, meeting the gaze of the woman on the other side.

“H,Hey Acele. You left your keys in the door.”

***

In the center of a room the shape of a quadrilateral, an asymmetrical arrowhead, sits a queen-sized bed. On it sit a pair of women. The younger one, sits upright, naked with a pillow pressed on her lap. The older woman sits a calculated distance away on the edge, fully clothed hands in her lap as well.

A minute has passed since Reika came in and sat down. In her hands are a set of the keys, the cause of all the world’s misfortune.

“How long were you watching?” Acele’s quiet voice cuts through the awkward silence.

“Not long,” Reika says. “Just the end.”

“I see.”

A pause, then—

“You could have knocked.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I thought…I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”

Another too long silence. A minute passes and it seems a thousand things circulate through Reika’s mind on what to say. After wracking her head about it, the words that cross her lips isn’t something clever or entirely inspired or full of wisdom. The sort of thing, for example, a teacher might say to their student.

“Well, you know, masturbation isn’t something to be embarrassed about. It’s a natural thing.” She shrugs. “Everybody does it.”

“Even you?” Acele counters on the sly.

Suppose I walked right into that. Reika laughs wryly. Fiddling with her thumbs she says, “...Sometimes.”

“Hmmm…” An inquisitive light sparks in Acele’s gaze. “Even though you have a husband?”

Reika nods, but isn’t willing to elaborate. Then, eager to change the topic, “What about you? I’m sure your boyfriend would be sad to miss that.”

“Boyfriend…” Acele’s lips twist in a crooked smile. “I, uh… don’t...have...one.”

“No way! You’re cute. Back then you used to stay after school because of all the boys wanting to walk home with you; I thought you’d be beating them off with a stick!”

“You remember that...haha there’s no way I could have a boyfriend with, well, you know…”

I do? Reika draws a blank as to what Acele could be referring to...until the girl pats her pillow.

“Ah!” A little flustered, Reika clumsily chooses her words. “Right, that’s right you’re... still, that isn’t...too big a deal, right? There are plenty of girls like you out there.”

And not just girls either. There were plenty of intersex men as well.

“It’s a pretty big deal to me!” Acele whines, bending her spine to hide her face in the pillow. “Imagine stripping in front of a guy you like and he’s grossed? I didn’t even take my clothes off in front of other people in gym class cause I didn’t want anyone spreading rumors.” She sobs. “And now someone’s gone and seen me…kill me.”

“Acele…could it be that...you’re still a virgin?”

“… So what if I am?” says the sideways glare.

“Even kissing?”

“SHUT! UP!” Acele shouts, swinging a pillow (a different one) into Reika’s face. “YES, A TOTAL VIRGIN!” *whack! “NOT EVEN A SINGLE KISS!” *Thud! “I’VE NEVER HAD A BOYFRIEND!” *Fwump! “OR A GIRLFRIEND!”

“Stop! Stop! Stop! I get it! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Reika, thoroughly beaten into submission curls up in a small ball.

Acele holds the pillow above her head then slams it down one more time on the back of Reika’s head. “It’s not funny.”

“I never said it was!” Reika uncovers her face. Her mouth is stretched in a wide grin.

“You are laughing!” Acele’s pillow-assault renews.

How did we get here? Reika wonders to herself while staring into Acele’s eyes. In her hands are clutched the girl’s arms, pressed into the bed. I only meant to grab the pillow so she’d stop hitting me. More importantly, the way she’s looking at me...is pretty bad.

“That… kind of hurts.”

“H,Huh? Oh, sorry…” Reika loosens her grip.

“I wasn’t talking about that actually.”

It’s her knee. The soft thing it’s stabbing into isn’t the bed as she first thought. It’s the pillow on Acele’s lap. Reika lifts herself up—only to be pulled right back down.

“Acele!” Thank God there’s a pillow there! If not… “I know what you’re probably thinking right now...but we can’t.”

“I know. You’re married.” Acele repeats, “I know, but…......it’s not fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“That you got to see me.” Her voice is such a low whisper that if Reika wasn’t staring at her lips, she’d have no idea what Acele said.

She can hardly believe it either. “You want me to—” She doesn’t have the courage to finish that sentence. Acele, however, is a mind reader.

“Please!” Acele nods powerfully.

...There is something compelling in Acele’s gaze. Reika, hesitant to say no, doesn’t want to say no and can’t bring herself to say it. Though she knows she should.

“Only my clothes,” she says. “That’s it.”

Acele nods and Reika slowly draws to her feet.

***

The drum of her heartbeat echoes in her ear. Reika stands in a room that’s not her own, about to undress in front of a person that isn’t her husband. In practice, she’s done it countless times yet she’s blushing furiously. Acele sits upright giving her undivided attention.

Ah, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Really, how did we get here!?

While thinking such thoughts, she starts to strip starting, of course, with her sandles. She undoes the straps and steps out of them erasing an extra inch or so in height. Next—

I’m not wearing socks. So next is...

Her shirt. Her heart and her stomach feel like they’re being ground against each other as she lifts the hem of her shirt. Above her navel. Then her bra.

“Hooooly shit!” … The way Acele’s eyes light up, Reika can easily read what’s on her mind. Her heart thumps faster.

“Do you...like my bra?” Embarrassment instantly sets in. Death couldn’t come sooner. And yet… and yet…

“It’s very pretty.”

She can’t help smiling. Her bra isn’t anything special. Once her shirt is off, she folds it neatly and lays it on the floor. Her skirt follows and just like that she’s reduced to nothing but her underwear. A black, full-cup underwire bra and matching high-waist panties.

Her bodies not perfect. Her stomach is a bit flabby, spilling over the band of panties. her thighs a bit too thick.

“You’re beautiful.”

No point in asking what she thinks. “Thank you. Even though I’ve gotten a little fat.” She’s genuinely happy. It’s just enough of a confidence boost to run the last mile. She unhooks her bra, freeing her breasts from their confinement. Lastly, her panties join the heap of discarded clothes.

Acele drools. Her eyes can’t look away from the sight in front of her. A path of dark fuzz covers Reika’s crotch. Above, her breasts are a cup bigger, her areola and nipples larger and darker. A moment passes in silence as Acele drinks it all.

“I think it’s your turn now, Acele?”

“Huh?” Acele widens her eyes, confused. “My turn for what?”

“It’s hardly fair unless we’re both exposed, right?” Reika eyes Acele’s modesty pillow.

“Ah, about that…” Acele looks away. “I’d say we’re pretty even already…”

“Acele.”

“….Y,Yeah?”

“You two.”

“Mng…” Acele grumbles and reluctantly stands up. “I have to?”

“Yes. You do.”

Acele grumbles louder. “R,Really? I think it’s more than enough already…”

“Acele…”

“Ugh, let me complain! I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” With a deep breath, she steels herself and drops the pillow. Her girl-cock dangles like a tapir’s snout. Acele turns as red as a cherry.

Reika ogles it for a moment then puts words to her disbelief, “Are you really a virgin?”

“Uh, yes?” ‘Why would I lie about that?’ reads her expression.

“How?” Reika stares at it a little more. Not having an answer to that, Acele keeps quiet.”

“Y,You can touch it if you want.”

Saying that, Acele stood there, filled with the most brazen confidence in the world.

“...May I?”

“Y,Yeah...if you want.”

Just for today. Just for right now. It’s not cheating, right? Innocent curiosity. That’s all it is. There might not be another chance like this. Reika’s thoughts race as she kneels down. She gingerly touches Acele’s cock. She rubs it as though petting a cat. Acele shivers.

“Oh my gosh… It’s so big.” With just the pads of her fingertips...then her palm. From the tip down to the base. A sour scent fills her lungs. It’s so different from her husband’s. It’s jarring. Addictive.

“You like it?”

Reika laughs shyly. “Yeah,” she answers without thinking.

“You look surprised.” Acele mirrors that bashful energy.

“I’ve never seen one like it before.” she mumbles.

‘In person,’ anyway. She’s seen pictures and the occasional porn film with well-endowed models and actors. A lot of them were even bigger than Acele lengthwise. It’s her thickness that Reika marvels at. It twitches when her breath washes over it. Her face is a little too close, she realizes.

“A,And if you want you can lick it.”

“May I?”

The nerves in Acele’s voice as she said that. That forced smile—that’s when Reika realized that she’d crossed the point of no return. As if swimming out towards the ocean only to find endless ocean on the horizon and looking back the beach nowhere in sight.

I may as well, see what’s beyond the horizon then.

So she opened her mouth and even though Acele only said to ‘lick it,’ after doing so with her tongue once, she ended up putting the whole tip in her mouth next. Holding the base of it, she moved her mouth forward, clamped her lips down and pulled back. Each time she went a little further down the shaft until she could go no further. Then she licked the sides.

“That feels good.” Acele’s voice quivers. Her face, Reika sees, is contorted in pleasure. She pauses.

“Is this your first blowjob?” Reika knows the answer, but she wants to hear it anyway.

Acele nods. Reika smiles, pleased, and resumes her blowjob. Slowly. She alternates between holding the head in her mouth and licking the sides. Bit by bit, the thing in her mouth grows, stretching her lips and her jaw. At some point, she starts using her hand, stroking the half she can’t fit in her mouth.

Acele’s heavy breathing is all the praise she needs, but it’s infuriating. Her slow pace. Acele runs her hand through her hair one moment and in the next is pushing Reika’s head down.

Reika obliges. She bobs her head back and forth faster.

“That feels so good,” Acele repeats breathlessly.

“Mmm, yeah?” I’m surprised she’s lasted this long, actually, Reika thinks. She fills her mouth with saliva and wrings out Acele’s true feelings.

“Fuck,” “That feels so fucking good,” “Oh shit,” “Fuck yeah.”

Acele’s moaning drives Reika into a frenzy. In fact, the louder Acele is, the harder she works her mouth and tongue and the louder Acele gets. A wheel of pleasure that soon nears a peak.

“Suck that dick...Ah, yeah, just like that. You’re going to make me cum.”

The thought of pulling her mouth away never crossed her mind...though the hand on the back of her head did make that a little difficult. The moment Acele came, Reika closed her eyes and accepted it in her mouth. Through Acele’s aftershocks, her hips bucking back and forth, she kept her lips sealed tight until she finished cumming.

She kept it in her mouth until she could free a hand to spit it out into. Thick white juice pooled in her hand. Acele’s legs gave out then, she joined her kneeling on the floor and leaned forward. Whether Reika turned her head at the last second or it was Acele who deviated—the young girl’s lips touched the corner of Reika’s lips. Then their heads aligned and Reika felt her lips part.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“Heeey! Is anybody home!?”

The banging and yelling comes from the front door. Acele springs to her feet. Acele scrambles to her feet, tugging on a pair of pajamas and a shirt before rushing off. At the same time, Reika collects her clothes and escapes to the bathroom.

Oh my god, what did I just do!? Did I just cheat? Am I having an affair now? I didn’t think I was that starved for attention. With a student of mine to boot! I’m disqualified to be an educator! Even if she wasn’t ‘my’ student, it still counts doesn’t it? I don’t even have the excuse of being drunk.

“What am I going to do?” Reika wants to rip out her hair.

Should I tell him? It’s better if I confess right away, right? Tell Acele it was all a mistake and apologize.

Acele is standing in the kitchen area next to some plastic bags when Reika finally leaves the bathroom.

“Did you forget these Ms. Aikawa?”

“Yes,” Reika says as she picks up her bags.

Now, I have to say it now! That this was all a mistake!

“I’m Sorry!”

Before she can get the words out, Acele’s voice makes her swallow them back into the pit of her stomach.

“I feel like I kind of pressured you into doing that. I’m… not expecting anything from it or anything like that. I got a little carried away and...well, I’m sorry. That’s what I want to see.”

“Haa…” Reika sighs. She feels of relief and embarrassment. For a split second, she wrestles with just letting Acele take responsibility.

There’s now way I can do that. So she sighs.

“No, don’t worry about it. You didn’t pressure me to do anything.”

Right, I’m the one who came in without permission. Spied on someone in a private moment and, when discovered, went in to their bedroom anyway.

Objectively, she wanted it to happen. She would have been disappointed if nothing had happened. Knowing that and admitting it are two different things though.

“I better get home. And you’ve got work right?” Before Acele can argue the point of who’s at fault, Reika grabs her bags.

“Don’t forget to lock the door.”

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