Page 41 of Eat My Moon Dust
Mysentiswelled so quickly that it tumbled over my shoulder, hot and tingling from the stretch. I panted like a runner as that scorching itch raced through my skin. Chartreuse blood coursed just beneath my flesh, stripes still murky but strobing like an emergency drone. I pushed my briefs down until they caught on my thighs, just enough for my cock to bob free, erect against my stomach as fresh pearls plumped to their full size within my reservoir.
I moaned with perverse fascination as I watched the ball ridges swell along the underside of my shaft in the mirror. I grabbed the base with one lower hand and squeezed, pearly cum dripping from the tip in a steady stream to the floor.
But the underwear was disappearing into my mane. It would fuel me, locked in mysentiat the base of my neck, but I was greedy. Delirious and at war with myself. I was too hungry for the gift Tinsley had given me to give them up. With a snarl, I snatched the fabric with my free hands, ripped it open, and pressed Tinsley’s seas directly into my mouth as mysenticurled itself through one of the leg holes and pulled.
My pupils blew wide open as I sucked on the fabric, color burning into my retinas as my body devoted itself to the coil. My cock pulsed in my vice grip, already coming without a single stroke. Pearl after pearl squeezed its way past my fingers, rolled off my thighs and fell to the floor.
Stripped of self-control, my hands left Tinsley’s underwear and two wrapped around my shaft, still hard and begging to pump, to fuck, tobind.Mysenticlaimed its gift as I closed my eyes and thought of Tinsley’s bare ass raised to the sky, ripe for the taking.
Stupidly indulgent. Taboo. Not at all what she agreed to give me, but her coil’s tide was so strong, I was drowning.
So I let go and frenzied until the floor was slick with pearls.
15
?TINSLEY?
“What do you think, Mr Sayeb?”
I held up a silvery star about the size of my head by a length of floss. It twirled in the gentle breeze, catching on magenta foliage. Thebiriatree that had nearly destroyed Omi’s shop during the rainy season still butted up against one side of the shack, though most of it had been carved away to make a bench. Select branches cast shade on the trunk for people to relax on.
I was standing on top of the trunk-made-bench, waiting for Mr Sayeb’s response. His mute smile was much wider than usual, and his gaze was focused. He patted his hand against his knee as Omi brushed his hair, and holiday music wafted gently through the air off her holotab.
I took that as approval and hung the star among the others, humming to the wobbly melancholy tones of Elvis Presley’sBlue Christmaswhile I wound blue tinsel around the dark pink branches.
“They lookin’ good, Tin.” Omi swayed her hips, murmuring the words she knew of the song while she ran her hands through Mr Sayeb’s hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep, calm breath.
“Thanks! It’s nice to get away from all the–” My thumb buzzed several times, telling me new messages had arrived. I plopped down on the bench and opened my holotab. “Nice! Another volunteer for glitter spraying the ferns!”
TheRenata Raghad pulled through with fireworks. The Christmas holiday was front-page news while Zufi was on page four. I’d cackled gleefully seeing that. No doubt he thought he’d be the center of attention while he was visiting. Whoever published theRagwas in on the spite, and I loved it.
The sheer number of messages I’d received from volunteers was mind-blowing though. My spreadsheet of jobs was filling up fast too. But with all the offers to print holiday treats, decorations, wrapping paper, bows, and whatever else people could think of, there came equally as many questions. Will Chanukah be included? Kwanzaa? Solstice? Lunar New Year?
I’d been so focused on my quest to recreate Christmas that I’d forgotten that other people were aching for their own traditions too. It had been a blow to my good spirits at first, sincenokhomipanhad been so diligent in passing down Cree traditions to a wily teenage girl.
So I’d officially renamed the event the Winter Festival. Everyone seemed alright with a multi-holiday potluck on the playfield to start, but next year we’d have working groups, each of which would organize their own holiday’s space in the festival. I wanted everyone to enjoy themselves and be happy. I just didn’t have enough eggs in my basket to manage it all this time around.
Icouldmake Mr Sayeb’s afternoon happy though. He’d been badly injured during his abduction and didn’t speak anymore, but we knew from the social media archive that he’d lived in London with his wife after their kids had left for college, practiced Islam, and ran a gorgeous candle and potpourri shop. Eid al-Fitr wasn’t held in the winter, but he’d posted once about displaying silvery stars and blue candles around the front of his shop for the holiday. I didn’t have a lot of brain space left, but silvery stars? I couldtotallymake that happen.
“What ya think of Sati and I printing the ingredients you need for di cider?” Omi asked, trimming behind Mr Sayeb’s ears. “You’ll need a lot of it.”
My mouth watered just thinking about it. I’d given the last of my cider to Hunar after he said he liked it. “That’s a great idea! Thanks for offering.”
I sent Omi a list as she focused on trimming the back of Mr Sayeb’s neck in an even line. Settling in, I crossed my legs and took a swig of water after all the stars were up. There were a lot of messages to catch up on. Wade wanted to check in on the booths that he, Mikaela, and the uids were building. I’d already assigned several of them and he wanted the list: the teachers were planning a booth for face painting and a holiday kid art raffle, and a few artisans were going to barter hand-embroidered stockings, painted plates, caricature portraits… I was giddy with excitement, but slightly bitter. I counted myself an artist too, but there was no way for me to express myself. Helping those artisans get in contact with Wade made me feel stuffy with warm-hearted jealousy.
My stomach grumbled and I jumped, water dribbling down my chin.
“Watstakats,”I swore, frantically checking the time. I was either late to my daily lunch date with Hunar or about to be. I swiped over to our comms and found an unread message.
11:62, Hunar Fareshi: Taking a personal day.
12:04, Tinsley Adams: Oh, okay! No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow :)
“Phew!”
“What’s up?”
I glanced up at Omi as I rolled over onto my stomach and kicked my feet up into the air. “I thought I was going to be late to lunch at the hangar, but Hunar’s taking a personal day.” I beamed at her and made grabby hands towards her lunch cooler. She rolled her eyes with a smile and tossed me a package of chocolate and chili.
