Into the Great Wide Open by Kevin Canty

Author:Kevin Canty [Canty, Kevin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9780679776529
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 1996-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Frustration: a game they used to play with each other, with lips and tongues and fingers, or more than a game. Kenny didn’t have a name for what it was. The rules were simple: to bring the other to the point of coming but not quite, and then just stay there, holding it off. Both of them played at the same time; if one of them flagged, or got too far away, the other one brought them back with lips and fingers and tongue. His whole body would ache. He couldn’t decide if this was cruelty or kindness. It didn’t seem to matter; didn’t seem like there was any difference. After an hour or two—their record, in February, was three and a half hours—Kenny’s blood would be pumping hard through his whole body, engorged. No part of him she couldn’t touch and get him going, get him started. After an hour or two they had to ration their touches, even their looks. That was the beautiful part: when she would touch him with the tip of her breast, just the tip, the nipple barely brushing his chest, and Kenny felt it with his whole body, and shuddered at the feeling … The game was Junie’s idea, at first, and he wondered where she learned it. And then he didn’t care, not just out of his own pleasure but out of finding hers, where she would bend to him: the inside of her wrists, always, and sometimes her breasts but not always. Her neck, especially the little hollow at the base, the peaceful valley sleeping there, and if she was lying with her back to him he could kiss the soft small hairs at the back of her neck with amazing results. This was new to Kenny: he had always been a visitor to girls’ bodies before, quick to come and quick to go. Now he owned one girl’s body, for as long as they played. She didn’t mind if he looked, not after a while; didn’t mind if he traced the lines with the tip of his finger, if he kissed her and held on. Kenny learned how far to go, and how to take it farther. Cruelty was never far away; teasing, aching. He woke up sore himself, in Wentworth’s sister’s bedroom, pink and frilly; pink and frilly. Frustration. He tried not to end up inside her but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

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