[ A short story inspired by the novel. The content may be inconsistent with the themes of Pappus and Sonder. ]
Coral was fantasising about Josh; she really wanted his body.
He wouldn't have needed another pussy in his whole life; if only he had waited. Now he was gone, mechanic, in Ballarat.
Silly girl, Coral berated herself; he's probably screwed a local tart in his van. You moped about and hastily screwed Luke. Ruby has lured you for some girlie play twice. Awesome sex life — not for eighteen— with a deep sigh.
Her priority, though, was the ongoing gamesmanship with Ruby. She really had caught Ruby arse over tits in the boathouse.
Coral looked discerningly at her index finger; there it was, the instrument of pleasure that had wooed Ruby's cute starfish.
No, that's too polite; don't sugar coat it into something it wasn't: 'Oh, I'm romancing your butthole, sweetie, how would you like it?
It was a direct and sharp prodding, straight to your knuckle.
Coral inspected her knuckle.
Strange to think where it had been.
She also thought Ruby had cheated unfairly, using accessories to entice her own curious lust.
Coral mulled; no way would I pierce my pussy to get a girl or boy. The riding crop was an aid too, not quite a sex toy, but Ruby had used an aid —inserted an object into my pussy and my cute rear end!
Coral anticipated Ruby cheating again in their next tryst.
Next, was Coral convincing herself there had to be at least one more?
Time finally to put Ms Valedictorian in permanent second place.
Careful, don't underestimate the cute bitch.
Hell, thought Coral, and don't underestimate yourself.
Coral had the advantage of nominating the place and time. The boathouse was the scene of her initial triumph and memorable delight for Ruby and herself.
The cute pixie would pout sourly like a spoilt brat if the locale wasn't new.
Where — it couldn't be either of their homes.
It had to be public but private: risqué.
Ruby would get excited if there was that outside chance of being seen.
Coral couldn't multitask; she needed to finish her art theory assignment on Van Gogh, due tomorrow.
Investigating The Starry Night, Coral concluded Vincent had way more problems than herself.
Then, Coral considered incorporating The Sunflower series into her argument when she realised she had crossed tasks.
Macrossan's sunflower field was the perfect location to rub Ruby.
Concentrate, girl, one task at a time, work, then play.
Of course, Coral's paper was then completed in inspired, brilliant and meticulous detail because Ruby was settled for the moment.
Later that night, her preparations under the doona were ribald, raunchy and racy.
Coral was so pleased with herself that she didn't need pussy playtime to relax her way to sleepy dreams this night.
Her new silky chemise, appropriately coral pink, tenderly taunted her nipples; it was more than satisfying; it was generously caressing, and more importantly, Ruby would get to experience what Coral might never experience in her entire life.
Coral clearly understood such is the vagary of sexual direction and sexual response by any two partners in any given brief moment together that what you desperately secretly desire in that precise instance may never be reciprocated in the heat of coupling — because your partner seeks to create a monument of giving back to you— for your giving your seemingly all to them.
However, as beautifully rewarding and fulfilling as it may be, it's at a tangent from your inspired crafted epiphany of genital contact.
Or, as Coral suspected, at an even deeper level, she was going to take Ruby beyond Ruby, and even Rubes wouldn't have anything to give back after this genital manoeuvre.
—After her shower, she had orange juice and two croissants for breakfast.
Coral mused —That was just a tad indulgent.
The second croissant with strawberry jam.
She got out her invitations folio and composed in her cursive calligraphy, with the happy realisation that some seemingly useless high school short course option had finally achieved its golden moment.
She stylishly indicated to Ruby the dress code, time and place of rendezvous but not the destination.
Coral sealed her effortless, trend-setting card in a scented envelope, sealed with a careful full lipstick kiss but couldn't attach the afterthought; beat that bitch and so much classier than a mid-morning phone call.
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Ruby entered a cruddy Datsun as Coral pulled into the curb outside St Mary Cathedral.
Appropriately, it was their only planned chaste stop for the day, thought Coral.
Ruby was into the irony immediately; "Nice location, sister— however —you know they only accept virgins as postulants, sweetie."
Coral drove off, reflecting Rubes was looking smart in a short black skirt, obviously freshly shaved legs and a demure but lush peach-coloured blouse.
The brunette minx stated, "Where's your peach cute car, sweetpea?"
"At a workshop, I borrowed Luke's."
"Like the top, honey," said Ruby sincerely, commenting on Coral's lime green blouse, which set off her free-flowing golden mane.
Then added, "Cute skirt," and it was designer pleated white, so short, as Coral changed gears —so much inner thigh was on view.
Ruby, on impulse, flipped up Coral's skirt for a peek at lacey watermelon panties.
Mmm.
"Rubes! —I'm trying to frickin' concentrate here —you won't get anything —if we don't get there. Let me concentrate on the road!"
Changing tack as skilfully as she could on her sabot, Ruby prodded, "How did you get Moorey's sexy vehicle?"
"You know," was all that Coral volunteered.
This was an open invitation for Ruby's joking conjecture; "Let's guess, I reckon it cost you a blow job?"
"No, only two more guesses — gorgeous."
"I can't imagine you being tacky enough to let him feel you up."
"I'm treating that as number two —last chance —Rubes."
"You callous bitch —puppy boy just gave it to you," and Ruby knew she was right.
Coral pursed her lips, puckered and blew Rubes a short kiss and then turned her concentration to the narrow, winding gravel road.
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"Awesome," was all the usually overly articulate Ruby managed as she helped Coral flatten out an area in the centre of the nearly fully matured sunflower field, where her friend laid a hefty picnic rug.
"There were grass stains on my arse pet —from your last effort at the spring," added Coral, as all her props were now in place.
The two young women shared strawberries, a light, tender touch, and a giggled banter, the foreplay of this growing moment.
It was Ruby who lay back first.
Looking up, inspecting the sunflowers from a previously unseen angle.
Coral was seeing Rube's light yellow undies; her astonishment was the clearly dark, bushy mound pushing for release against the oh-so-thin material.
Coral helped herself, sliding Ruby's panties off and unashamedly stared at the luxuriant tangle.
Rubes, new look—for today!
The clit ring had been removed, but there was no hint of disappointment here.
Her girlfriend showcased an instantly welcoming fur burger.
"Impressive" was all she managed to say as she fingered and gently teased the long pubic strands and started to part the forest, looking for Ruby's two thin, neat lips and her no doubt already erect bud.
Coral couldn't resist it any longer and went in face forward.
It was carnal passion, pure and simple, nothing refined here, just muff in the face— warm, wet and moist.
Christ, it was stirring, and she felt her own pussy moisture soak through her own panties as Ruby's wetness kept pace with her own.
This was Ruby as Coral couldn't have imagined Ruby, full bush — just for Coral — deliberate furry growth to entice her known love affair with the complete beaver pelt in a frenzied entrapment.
Coral's tongue worked whatever it came into contact with, labia, pubes, clit and even Ruby's fingers which entered the zone of mutual pleasure.
The golden girl took it all in; bushy pubic Ruby, joint pleasure, the brunette's cascading orgasm.
Could the afternoon top Ruby's stunning, brazenly unpruned growth; surely not.
Ruby lay back replete.
She could have finished the afternoon there.
Coral knew it was her occasion to direct the tempo and add maximum ego relish to the day.
It was time for Ruby to savour fresh, pristine flesh.
Coral presented herself in genital opulence astride Rube's chest, arching over her body, then over her partner's face, leaving a gap of sunlight to fully reveal her natural opening's glistening puffy lips.
Ruby took in the view as it descended like a vision.
First, the sunflowers complemented Coral's flowing hair, creating a broad halo effect.
Sweet Mother of Mary, thought Ruby; Coral's a frickin angel.
Next, her best friends dangling, open, shaved labia.
Fuck no, Coral was all woman.
Then Ruby was transfixed in desire, held in desire, facing irresistible desire — in Coral's shaved perfection.
The golden girl had swapped pussy presentation roles.
The minx was mesmerised in a split second of disbelieving — but eye-compelling certainty; Brazilian genital rapture.
Ruby confronted one of those rare moments of absolute sexual hesitation —when genital allure is inestimable, driving desire wild and self beyond the compelling instance.
The genitals of your lust and sexual yearning appear as visionary — immaculate and superlative and capable of redeeming true selfless self — as they sweep self-gratification to oblivion.
As the awareness of giving of self not to please self is transformed into giving as unconditional generosity of spirit through bodily touch — Ruby realised it was her first true moment of genital-induced love.
"Wow," is the only appropriate response, and Ruby made it.
Yes, she licked, sucked and teased, but she felt she was inside Coral, not just entertaining her friend's luscious pussy to orgasm.
She wanted to be one with Coral, to permanently hold this physical delight and ecstasy of shared spiritual bliss.
Coral sensed a change in Ruby's usual rapid, compelling play.
A gentleness emerged, not emanating from Ruby's soft fingers or tender-seeking tongue.
It was Rubes giving of self to her.
In this recognition, the golden girl came with incredibly muscular sustained contractions, her thighs gripping Ruby's face.
The brunette held her course, and the intensity was overwhelming.
There were tears in the corners of Ruby's eyes.
"Oh —wow —I'm just lost —lost in happiness, "was all Ruby could say, wiping the tears from her eyes.
Coral ceased to care about winning.
The sexual competition surely was over, she believed sincerely; genitals must have a limit on immediate gratification being repeated.
However, Ruby was alert for one last defining endeavour of sharing.
She eased Coral's legs widely apart and did the same with her own.
She held her companion's clit hood back, exposing its cute seeking nub, and with her other hand, drew back her own hood, revealing her engorged vibrant bulb — and like a heat-seeking missile — went straight to Coral's clit.
Nub to bulb.
Bud to nib.
Clit to Clit.
Tribbing.
It was ravishing of self, yet it was almost too intense a pleasure.
"Ooh, ooh," from Coral.
"Uh, Uh," from Ruby.
There was an actual limit — Ruby realised — the stimulation her clit could endure.
Yet, pleasure demands fulfilment, and Coral was clearly in the moment, too.
Too intensely felt by two.
It was not sustainable.
"Ah, ah, aah, " released Coral.
"Raah, ah, aah," echoed Ruby.
The brunette relaxed as her clit was close to irritated over stimulation and gently started tribbing Coral's silkiness instead.
It was an inspired move, her new bushy mound enticing with its trilling quavering pubic pelt supplied paroxysms of wet delight over her friend's dripping, exposed, tender, fleshy, vulnerable labia.
Coral's second orgasm was all-consuming, seeking the self through her closed eyes, caught in Ruby's rousing holistic connection of separate genitalia into one gentle loop of seemingly continuous unending flesh moulding between their legs.
Confirmed by the equally powerful mutual climax of Ruby.
Paired, they had achieved the apotheosis of genital contact, a mutual synchronised climax, without setting out to reach the zenith of desired desire; their young bodies had taken them there naturally.
Coral felt a deep love for just life; she took in everything; Ruby's face, chest, sunflowers, and breathing; wow, life was good.
Ruby savoured it all deeply inside herself.
The brunette manoeuvred discreetly and lay close to Coral, holding her breast to Coral's breast, easing her nipple over Coral's nipple.
The golden girl felt this was too much— even in its — sensitive, serene and tender touch.
Ruby vacillated between effacing affectionate rubbing and self-indulgent pampering.
Though for both young women, the sensation of nipple on nipple was exquisite.
Coral felt subsumed in Ruby. She surrendered to the complete.
Ruby didn't overdo it; she was affirming the mutual flow of the given moment.
Coral found one last reserve of energy and was sitting on Ruby's chest.
Her elfin-faced friend was surprised.
It was over; there can't be delight beyond mutual fucking climax.
Ruby was confident on this point.
Coral held her twin dangly flaps of feminine generosity, still slickly moist and wrapped them around Ruby's left nipple, then repeated the treat on her right nipple.
Once only, on each erect nipple.
"Uh, oh my— uh oh my," from the petite pixie.
The moisture was still glistening on both nipples; however, Ruby was soaked through her entire being in those unparalleled fleshly moments, —held both in time and place and then memory.
How could sex get better than this or equal it?
Ruby already knew it could and would reach these unimaginable heights without knowing what the experience would be.
Genitals were magic, conjuring endless delight to fill a lifetime.
Ruby knew this nipple moment could never be bested; it would only join tantalising unrepeatable sensual delight at the apex of her cumulative swelling sexual memory bank, equal first with a knuckle up her butt —but no doubt in Ruby's mind— there was continuous unrealised genital awe to come through her lifespan.
The brunette understood sex would always surprise; it was fun, it was entertainment, like twerking, the beat changing rapidly like the interchanging delight between licking and sucking a clit or cock— catching genital softness and shape in tribbing, the pleasure in giving — akin to the pleasure of repeating a much-loved pop artists refrain circulating for days in your head like reminiscence of wonderful sex.
She realised, too sex was sassy and slutty with a cadence of hazy jazz.
Yet Ruby, as young as she was, knew profoundly that sex could equally be The Blues, engendering wistful, melancholic tears of joy and the knowledge that if repeated — even by Coral on Ruby in this field— the experience would not be the same.
Drumming her thighs, the optimist, upbeat, knowing sex could be intense, edgy and unpredictable like heavy metal, where distortion of self and other occurred.
Ruby stilled her naked self, relaxing in the afternoon sun next to Coral: sex was ultimately affirmingly gentle and full of charming longing — yearning for a sweet touch to be endlessly repeated like the chorus of your favourite love song.
Yet the brunette sighed.
As incredible as memory is, the memory of touch would always place a close second while the experience occurred.
Ruby remained in the moment and would live life permanently for the moment.
—Later, in the evening, Rubetta Eva Marre wrote the only poem of her stunning sex life—
Rolling in sunflowers is sassy
Embracing the cadence of a jazz refrain,
A hazy, affluent rhythm full of improvisation
Embellished desires escalating fresh delight
A riotous teasing, an extended scooping yearning
An intense, sustained, resonating trumpet note
Yet, tipping the velvet potentially releases the woeful blues
A wistful, melancholic dirge of mounting loss
The knowledge of passions never rescaled
Intimacy held only in heartbreak
Recalled endlessly by a forlorn line in a chorus
Soulful memory of the timbre of past coupling
Still, shaking the sheets is piercing and edgy
Unpredictable and flamboyant, bedroom heavy metal
Where carnal insistency and chest-heaving riffs
Escalate to a crescendo of thrumming drumming
Empowering an emphatic body mosh-pit
releasing rampaging guttural shrieks and screams
Though overriding mated couplets is a composition
The harmony of separate instruments joining
Graceful, subtle, sinuous twining
Amplifying unique signature hymns
The simplicity of a mellifluous melody
Making love, our perfect-pitched symphony
—In the sunflower field, Coral took in Rube's cute pappus tattoo and wrapped her arms and legs around her petite friend, enveloping the two selves.
She was taking it all now; later, who knew about later, later wasn't here yet.
They both rested naturally like ripe, seasoned sunflowers.
Whispering softly into each other's ears, in unison, the sweet, alluring vows of appeased genitals that lull the mind to the equivalent satiated tranquillity of their private parts.
However, with time, these honestly believed murmurings always float away as effortlessly as pappus on the wind.
Declarations, assertions and promises that neither would ever keep.