Cindi

Jiri lived at the university. He was doing a science degree on a scholarship, and was very bookish, and had stellar grades, but Jiri had never kissed a girl.

The residences were co-ed, and he had a few friends. Most were his fellow students, who appreciated working together with him to finish their assignments. Some of them were female, and some of these really liked Jiri, liked him a lot.

But Jiri could see that they only wanted him for his brains, which seemed to him like an unsound basis for a relationship. How can you have a good relationship if the only thing you have in common with your partner is some smarts? He hoped that, one day, he would find a girl that would want him for his body, for love, for sex. Oh, she'd have to be smart, too, of course, but he really wanted to share some spark of physical desire, of lust, of passion.

Jiri was not a prude. There were plenty of parties on his floor, and he enjoyed getting drunk or stoned, and having deep-and-meaningful conversations late into the night. These spells of drunken intimacy gave him some feeling of connection with his fellow human beings, and he was content with his lot. But he never seemed to connect with any women.

Then Cindi moved on to the floor.

---

Cindi turned up in the middle of the year, from somewhere up north, judging by her broad accent. She had put her name down early on Jiri's table for the mid-year dinner, unseating someone else, and making herself unpopular with the organizing forces in Jiri's clique. So, even before she had met anyone, she was on the wrong side of Jiri's friends.

She ended up sitting next to Jiri. She was tall, and a bit thin, and a bit gawky. She was obviously feeling a bit self-conscious, and no one else would talk to her, so Jiri tried to strike up a conversation, out of politeness more than anything. She didn't say much, and soon Jiri was having a good time with his usual yabbering with his friends, and he did not give her much thought. She slipped away after the meal, and nobody noticed her passing. Except for Jiri.

"She won't like it here," he thought.

He did not see her again until the following evening. Jiri was working away on math assignments, when a soft knock on his door disturbed his concentration.

It was Cindi. Jiri didn't really appreciate the intrusion, but, feeling a little sorry for the new girl, let her in to sit on the bed with him, the only seat to be had in his tiny room.

Cindi had brought her backgammon set. Jiri had enough curiosity about his new acquaintance that he accepted her challenge graciously, although he didn't expect to be away from his assignment for very long.

Surprised, Jiri found himself enjoying Cindi's company. Her earnest, shy manner concealed a quick, dry, wit, and she was a good player. They chattered on, and Jiri learnt that Cindi had been raised in Cairns, and had until recently been at James Cook. Out of polite interest he inquired about the reason for her switching to UNSW, but she simply let the question hang, unanswered, until he changed the subject.

It was after midnight before Jiri realized the time, and, with lectures starting at 8am the next morning, Jiri suggested they call it a night. Cindi agreed, and reaching over to him, gave his hand a squeeze. Jiri was a little surprised at her touch; there was a real warmth in her fingers, and they lingered, and Cindi stroked the back of his hand. She looked at him then, with a quiet intensity that surprised him, and he felt a jolt of desire beginning to call to him, to fill him. Softly, she released him, gave him a peck on the cheek, and left him.

The days after that were somewhat peculiar. After her faux pas at the dinner, none of Jiri's friends showed the slightest interest in getting any further acquainted with Cindi. Whenever Jiri sat down at Cindi's table at dinner time, she would look a bit awkward, and would clam up. In the end, he rejoined his usual dinner companions, and left Cindi to eat pretty much by herself.

Most evenings, though, there would be that soft tap on the door, and Cindi would slip into Jiri's room, where they would play backgammon, and talk. During the course of each evening, Cindi, seemingly unconsciously, would softly cover Jiri's hand with her own. Jiri would let her gently turn his hand over, and she would delicately stroke him with her fingers, her fingers tracing quiet patterns on his palm, as if tracing out his life-line.

He came to enjoy the sound of her voice. Although the accent was broad, he appreciated her candour and passions, and began to spend longer and longer moments just listening to her views on life, with that constant pleasure surrounding his hand, and the intensity of her eyes.

These visits continued for several weeks, and Jiri grew to depend upon them. He sometimes visited Cindi in her room, but this did not feel right: he did not feel unwelcome, but these visits did not create the sense of a new space in his life that her visits to his room had begun to open.

---

To Jiri, tonight seemed an evening like any other. A long stretch of conversation, coffee, and backgammon stretched in front of them. As usual, Cindi had taken possession of Jiri's hand. The simplicity of Cindi's actions belied the deliciousness of her touch. Tonight, Jiri found it hard to concentrate on the game, and after losing several, he gave up. He found Cindi was staring at him, focussed on him, and he found himself examining the quiet intensity of that gaze. Jiri thought he saw a flicker of something, perhaps triumph, and she continued that gentle stroking.

It became a magical moment for Jiri. For the first time in his life he felt settled, centred, as he stared into those green eyes, that strong face. Jiri was surprised that this lanky, awkward girl had become an object of desire, yet he found himself gazing at her, content in her company, as her gentle caresses stirred his feelings as nothing else ever had in his life. His erection blossomed inside his jeans, but he could pay the discomforting tightness little heed. Only as he suddenly realized that Cindi was a potential girlfriend, did he begin to see that their relationship had already acquired a strength and permanence that scared him quietly witless in its intensity.

"You know, Jiri, since I first saw you, I have felt a connection with you, with your soul. Let me feel it, Jiri, let me touch you, let me caress your soul."

Her hand gently moved up his arm then, never losing contact, delicately tracing up his arm, leaving a pleasant tingling as it passed. As it reached his temple, she moved over to him, straddling him, sitting in his lap. Her hands began gentle, circular motions, to relax him, to quieten him. She brought her mouth close to his, and Jiri, expecting a kiss, closed his eyes. But Cindi just continued to massage his face, and synchronized her breathing, letting warm air fill Jiri as he breathed in, and taking his air as he breathed out.

"Let me hold your soul in my hands, Jiri, let me hold you. Just let it out of your mouth, and I will hold it, I will protect you, I will warm you"

Jiri was smitten. He did not really believe in souls, certainly not in souls that could be pulled out of his mouth, but Cindi's delicate attentions were having an undeniable affect on him. As Cindi's hands made a cup around his mouth, he slowly exhaled, and imagined what it would feel like, were she really able to steal his essence so completely.

Cindi smiled then, and, as if she were trapping a small mouse, she raised her hands to her mouth and gently blew warm air into the space. At first, Jiri felt shivers down his spine, but then a warmth began to suffuse through his body, and he could feel his own love and affection for this amazing woman, already so new to him, being supplemented by a worshipful adoration.

He reached around her, and held her, and laid his head on her chest. He felt her slowly closing one of her hands, closing it tight, and she gently stroked his hair. Jiri's heart was racing with desire, with passion, but he did not want to move, did not want this moment to change, did not want this moment to end.

After a time, Cindi whispered, "Let's go to bed"

They both stood, and, somehow, while still holding each other, they managed to get undressed. As she unbuttoned her blouse and reached behind to remove the unnecessary bra, he could not help but stare at her pink nipples. Soon he was openly staring at the dark wisp of hair peeking out from under her black lacy panties. As these, too, disappeared, Cindi smiled at him.

"You know, this is the first time for me, too..."

As they enfolded themselves in the doona, Jiri let himself be enfolded in her arms. Her soft breasts, although not substantial, felt deliciously feminine against his back. Her flat tummy warmed him, and her long legs crept between his own and, twining around him, kept him immobile. He had never felt flesh so soft, so warm, so comfortable.

With gentle caresses, Cindi let one of her hands steal down his chest, down his stomach. She gave a small sigh of appreciation as her hand enfolded his penis, which had attained a considerable hardness, and commenced a gentle pumping. Jiri could do little except bring one of his own hands behind to cup the softness of her bottom, and attempt to draw her still closer to him.

Her other hand was still closed in a gentle fist.

Cindi brought it up to her lips, and, again, she breathed warm air around its contents.

Jiri felt a burst of ecstasy as he imagined himself being inside of her, penetrating her, possessing her.

Inhaling, she drew into her mouth whatever she had been holding so tightly. Her pink tongue licked her lips as she rolled it around inside. As her hand continued her moist pumping around his manhood, she made a show of running her tongue around her mouth. Imagining that his very essence was inside her, the pleasure of her hand around his penis became all-encompassing as he felt himself caressed and constrained all around.

As his hips began to strain against her, she held him tight against herself. He made little grunts as he tried to move, as he tried to reach his peak. She hardly let him move, with her legs held fast around his own, one arm around his chest, and the other hand pumping him, filling his world with pleasure.

With a scream of release, Jiri came, long jets of semen jetting from his cock. He had never known such intensity. As the pulsing subsided, Cindi continued to milk him.

"I love you, Jiri," she whispered, mouth still full.

Then she swallowed.

Fin?