Behind the Masks: Luc and Sanaii

Lucas Somerville had grown up always knowing what was to be expected of him. His father had made that clear from the start. He was to have the best of everything- school, clothes, friends, and clubs all in preparation of taking over the family manufacturing business and continuing to hold up the torch of the Somerville family. But there was one wrinkle in the elder Somerville’s plans that like a speck of dust in a hard-drive caused an inevitable crash-Lucas’s mother.

Claudette D’Ange was a beautiful Parisian. Like his son, John Somerville had his pick of the wealthiest girls but after meeting her during an overseas trip with friends, he found Claudette to be unmatched by any other. She was exotic and refined with her exquisite European manners and sense of good taste. He decided she would be his colorful trophy.

For a while, things seemed to work out just fine. When she got off track, he corrected her with sharp words and a slap or two if necessary. She was a magnificent hostess and a siren in bed- all in all the perfect wife.

Then Lucas came along and everything changed. His dutiful wife became obstinate- insisting that Lucas not be sent to boarding school. She cradled and coddled him like a little girl until John Somerville was entirely fed up with her, her smart mouth and her snobby French attitude. She wouldn’t even fuck him anymore claiming some malady or the other.

Getting rid of her was not easy. She wanted to take Lucas with her, but the pictures of her and her lover set her straight. His lawyers decimated and humiliated her in court and she went back to France childless with her tail tucked between her legs.

He went to work on Lucas right away, teaching him what life was really about. He rode him hard, but he sincerely believed it was for Lucas’s benefit. He didn’t want him to be one of those spoiled dilettantes embarrassing their families in trashy magazines and with no fire in their bellies. He wanted Lucas to be a real man.

When Lucas turned 14, John Lasher gave him the ultimate birthday present. He hired one of Linda’s classiest girls who didn’t look a day over 16.

Lucas was scared shitless at first, walking into that room- the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, all peaches and cream with freckles scattered here and there- naked on his bed.

“Dad, I don’t know what to do. I mean I know, but …”

John interrupted him.

“You’re missing the point, son. She’s a whore. You can do whatever you want to her. “

She told him he was tall for his age and so cute, and beckoned him closer. That first time, he came in her hand, as soon as she touched him he was so excited by the site of her. She licked him clean and he was hard again in an instant. The second time, inside her was a dream- he could barely wrap his mind around the awesome sensations of being trapped in her little pink cell so warm and wet. She rode him, her breasts bouncing in his face, teasing him the whole time. The third time was a revelation. She was underneath of him, arms and legs wrapped tight around him, and he felt the power of dealing pleasure as his body found a rhythm that was undeniable to her.

“Women can’t be trusted, son. They spread their legs and lie like the devil. ”

His father’s words haunted him, but this didn’t feel like a lie. He saw the look of surprise on her face and heard the way her breathing changed as he stroked, following her instructions and subtle clues, his flexible back and muscles creating wave after wave of sensation.

“... gonna make me come aren’t you, baby?”

She hissed in awe of his control, and the way he was making her well initiated pussy do cartwheels. Faking it was par for the course, especially with the rich arrogant fucks she had to service, but actually climaxing with a trick was anathema to her.

“That’s what you need right? Need me to make you come-need me…” he said sounding so much like a man.

He pushed faster and deeper until she was begging for him to give it to her, until he felt it- that tell tale tightening of her pussy on the inside and her arms around him as she hugged him to her, stroked his hair and told him how good e was. The best she’d had in a long time. He indulged in her embrace, loving the feel of being cloistered in softness and her breasts beneath his cheek. A part of him wanted to cry. He didn’t understand that at all, so he shoved it away as he’d been made to do so many times.

“My dad said you’re a whore, and I can do anything I want to you. Is that true?” he said nuzzling her nipple with his lips.

Her hands immediately stopped their gentle stroking.

“It’s true. “

Her voice was absent of inflection.

“Good, “he said, “because I want to do everything.”

Lucas remembered paying her with his own sizeable allowance until he didn’t need her anymore. Girls were attracted to him like bees to honey- his eyes, his hair, his body, his daddy’s money- all were things he heard them giggle and blush over every time he walked by. If you were his girl, you were the girl, and he knew it.

By the time he was 16 he was a bona fide slut, and arrogant about it in true Somerville fashion. Girls were toys- to be thoroughly enjoyed, but never to be trusted as far as you could throw a diamond tennis bracelet.

Yet, he found himself uncharacteristically distracted by the memory of hot anonymous sex with one little miss nobody . The memory of it had him beating off constantly when he was alone. When he was enjoying one of his many “friends with benefits” on campus, he imagined coily dark hair instead of silky blonde in his hands as a girl went down on him. And the memory of her pussy haunted him- chocolate and cherries, tight as a fist.

Lucas shook his head to clear it and shelved the paddle in his hand.

He was the captain of the crew team at Hill. Water was the only thing he loved more than getting laid. The exertion of his body, the clean air, and the slice of water over wood or flesh put him in a place he felt weightless and invincible.

Yet lately, his encounter with the lovely dark dancer nudged at his mind brain even at practice. Why her, he thought watching the sun set over the lake water.
He’d never been with a black girl before- never wanted to, but that night she was undeniably the hottest girl on the floor when she danced. Nobody even came close. Still, he would never have approached her, but the mask gave him a little extra boldness that added to his already unmitigated arrogance made him say fuck it. He tried to write the night off as curiosity, but couldn’t.

Where as before he didn’t notice, he found himself scanning crowds for brown limbs and twisted hair. He noted that there were many attractive black girls and other women of color if one had to be PC, but he didn’t feel necessarily more attracted to them simply because they were different. No, clearly it was just something about her.

No way was a girl- any girl, going to have him all twisted up in knots. Especially not that one, she was all kinds of wrong and obviously despite her protests and innocent eyes a total slut to fuck him and suck him off like that. She swallowed his cum like ice-cream.

“Shit” he cursed pulling at the edge of his sweatshirt as he pitched a woodie.

He knew what he had to do.

Find her.
Fuck her again.
Forget her.

He assumed finding her would not be a challenge. A girl crazy for dancing and cock probably hit the clubs every weekend, right? He hung regularly at the clubs for almost a month- nothing. His frustration was starting to border on obsession.

*She’s out there. The city’s not that big. How many fucking clubs could one little girl visit in a weekend? Where are you kitty cat? *

He couldn’t believe it when he finally saw her again.