The Swim Team

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CHAPTER 5

THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE

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Roaming the streets was a good way to get arrested in this neighborhood.

Gabrielle needed to pee. She wanted to go home and deny Operation Homesitting ever existed.

It's her sex drive that looked around, raised the sweat-slippery key and unlocked the Chervonys' front door, her sex drive that stepped in and disappeared, casual like a burglar.

Inside, it was Gabrielle who paused, her back against the door, pinned there by the weight of an empty house, staring into its depths.

A look at her phone. 3:22pm

Hours to do anything she wanted. A phrase her sex drive liked.

So Gabrielle pounced at a most convenient answer to the question

What do I do now?

She reminded herself that at its inception Homesitting was fairly simple. The initial idea had been nothing more than to find a way to try out nudism.

Really all she had to do was to follow these tracks for an hour or less and everyone would be satisfied. She'd be home in time for

Futurama

.

She took her shoes off.

Nothing wrong with taking your shoes off.

She didn't untie them, she trampled her lilac All-Stars under her heels just to remain as upright and immobile as possible.

And then she was back at looking into this big stranger that is someone's home, alone.

In such a place the silence was different. Guilty, if such an adjective could apply to such a noun. Even though Gabrielle had probably spent more than half of her life in this house. She had memories for each year, each season, each room.

She took one meek step forward, away from her shoes, and the exit. Then her legs brought her away from the entryway, into the living-room. She was still wandering, really. Although in her mind everything was already there, all the things her damn sex drive had mapped out.

So it was not the view that drew her to the sliding patio doors. It was a pro-tip. She may gaze upon the backyard for as long as she wanted, the lawn illuminated by an unbroken blue sky, with the swimming pool gleaming in response a few yards on her left; she could recall the time she helped sowing the patches of tomatoes and pumpkins, on her right in the distance; she could even look at the fingerprints she was leaving on the pane, all this only shone in the foreground of her mind. In the back of it, where it mattered, pressed the peculiarity of this backyard, quite unique in Los Angeles: no one could see from outside.

She had put this urban anomaly to the test several times and had always come to the same conclusion. Only the helicopters could spy on you here. A feature which, uncoincidentally, the Chervonys enjoyed on a daily basis.

Gabrielle tried to swallow her nervousness.

She needed to plan out.

The better place was Lily's room upstairs and she went there, and there she felt the temporary respite brought by acting upon a decision. Until she would have to think of the next one.

Sit on the bed.

Let out a long sigh.

Relax.

Act like it was

your

idea.

I need to have my phone with me at all times.

Her phone. Suddenly reassuring and threatening.

She could play it out. It would ring with the strength of a fire alarm and: '

Abort! I repeat, abort! Mom forgot her passport, we'll be there in five seconds! Gabe, for the love of God, GET OUT OF HERE!

'

She snorted, put it in her backpocket as she stood up. There was one thing she could do. It's been poking at her.

Gabrielle went to the bathroom to relieve her bladder.

And it was a sequence of easy decisions:

She lifted the seat up, took her penis out, pulled the waistband of her boxer briefs under her ballsack and waited.

Because her need to pee had been this kind of fake-urge created by stress, merely a drop stinging the inside of her urethra with no real pressure above it, she got plenty of time to appreciate the main perk of penises. To pee while standing.

Not the best position to take an emergency call--her phone could slip from her hand and fall into the bowl--but good enough to take an emergency run; and anyway, she would allow herself this moment of pride.

She stood there, concentrating, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as if it would help her go. She pulled her foreskin just a little so it wouldn't spritz everywhere around.

Don't forget to lower the seat or they'll freak out.

Almost starting to get bored, Gabrielle looked around. The cabinet on her right, she knew what was inside. Toilet paper, tampons, cleaning products... And a box of those little plastic funnels they made for women to pee standing up. Typically the kind of crap Isla would buy.

Gabrielle opened the door and saw it was still unused, sealed and forgotten.

She smirked.

Look what they need to mimic a fraction of our power.

She shook her head slowly, though still smirking. She was at the stage where she said memes in her head; next one would be spouting them aloud. She needed to get out more, she needed friends, she needed...to become...cool.

Cooler.

She dropped her pants and sat on the toilet. Tinkling began immediately.

Once she was done she wiped, stood up, lowered the seat and flushed, clenched her teeth at the noise which in these circumstances was dramatically deafening. During the long-drawn-out ruckus of pipes, she removed her pants and underwear so she didn't have to do the penguin walk to the sink, where she washed her hands and then rinsed her glans and foreskin. This was something she never did usually, an effort which could only mean one thing but Gabrielle eluded and instead winced at the water dripping on her socks.

Back in the bedroom, pants back on, and all this had felt way too rapid for her nerves. Because from there she had only one logical thing left to do. So she started thinking of other things to do.

And whatever I want is a lot of things.

She paced up and down the room. Her gaze stumbled--or did not stumble--upon the objects presented like antiques on the shelf next to Lily's desk.

One of them was an old NES controller.

Gabrielle didn't want to play video games. She walked over to observe it blankly.

In fact she was memorizing its position, the way the cord entangled, the dust on it and around it.

Only then she picked it up.

She shook it next to her ear.

The screwdriver was in the same drawer as the emergency cutlery.

It took her several minutes to unscrew the shell open.

And inside, as expected, instead of electronics was a small ziplock bag. And inside that bag were five joints.

This was one possibility of Operation Homesitting.

Last time I smoked weed I grew a penis.

She pouted with an unwanted bitterness, yet didn't take her eyes off Lily's stash.

If I smoke one of these... well, first of all I could pass out or barf on the carpet or both or who knows what. But first of all, Lily's gonna know. And she knows that I know that cumming feels better when you're high, cause she told me herself. And she'll know I smoked because I wanted to cum harder. She'll picture me shaking and whimpering like a... like the way I am right now.

Indeed her pout had yielded to shaking and whimpering. Gabrielle was picturing herself cumming harder than usual. She could also remember her first climax as a Rebz and the extreme shock she went through because she may have been discovering a new kind of pleasure, a penile orgasm, she could still compare its magnitude to her vaginal orgasms, she had been overwhelmed by the comparison actually, forced to. Because Gabrielle the Rebz came insanely hard. Old Gabrielle wouldn't believe how intensely it was possible to cum. Rough and deep and interminable. Her orgasms would feel like torture to normal people. And now she had an opportunity, perhaps, to turn it up a notch, to live the extreme shock all over again. She wondered if it was even possible to feel more physical pleasure than she did already. And then she wondered whether such limitations made sense to a Rebz.

Stick to the plan.

She put the evil bag back inside the controller and screwed it shut, as meticulous as a spy.

And again, she was back to the beginning, sitting on the bed. It was getting tiring.

Just get it over with.

She placed her fingers on the upper button of her jeans, suddenly not as meticulous.

She had been naked in this house before, the bathroom, when she would spend the night, but,

In ten seconds I'm going to feel the air on my body like I've never felt it before.

Step by step, second by second, she started unbuttoning. Unzipping.

Her pants went down. Her socks slipped off with them.

She looked at her feet.

Her necklace. Her bracelet. On the nightstand. She could leave those here if she had to run away.

Her earrings would stay on, though.

It was more than ten seconds now, Gabrielle was temporizing and refused to admit it made things agonizing.

Somehow taking her blouse off felt like a huger step than her pants.

Then, she...shed her bra.

Her breasts were so small it didn't change anything, they couldn't exactly

flop out

, they just stood there. She rubbed the red marks on her ribcage. Then she leaned back on her hands and let her nipples finish getting painfully but so delightfully erect. The skin on her upper chest contracted, goosebumps appeared like as many mini-erections. She shuddered. It felt good.

3:46pm

Standing up.

She hooked her thumbs under the waistband of the last piece of clothing that separated her from danger.

Pulled down.

Gravity did the rest. They bunched around her ankles. Then they were on the floor, one step away from her.

She gave one last look at the world before letting it be lit different. She looked at her phone. It could ring any moment, the front door downstairs could burst open any moment. Her body tensed right on the edge of getting startled, like she was looking at a gun she knew was about to be fired. Gabrielle had been at the gun range enough times--she even loved it--, her uncle and her had shot enough rounds there to kill several zombie apocalypses, and yet still, everytime, every goddamn time, whatever the caliber, even with earmuffs on, even if she was warned, even if it was

her

gun, the first bang always startled her one inch off the ground, always released cold mercury into her veins. And

oooh

she hated it...

But then the second bullet, the third, all the following mags were pure anchored-to-the-ground fun. And her phone wouldn't ring. And the house, the neighborhood were quiet. Particles of dust were floating in the sunlight, that was it, the only movement. And also her last vision, before accepting that the day had flipped unrecognizable. Before she let it get to her.

And she did.

Gabrielle had never touched this atmosphere before, she realized as it embraced her, liquid like a feline caress, in directions that were new to her kinetic memory.

Her clothes, when she had some on, would weigh on her downward and inward, on her shoulders, into her hips, shoes to ground, sleeves to wrists... There was none of it now. She was floating in refreshing nudity. Nipples, muscles, skin, all strong. Her neck, light. Her butt like she actually had a butt, a shape traced round in the space. And her penis, hanging free, just like her testicles.

Gabrielle saw her reflection in the mirror. Around her, daylight instead of fear.

She let herself fall back onto the bed. Relaxed. Anything that could flap flapped, she even bounced on the mattress once or twice. Her eyes were closed. The smile on her lips became a smile on her face.

"Mmmm, I love you, Lily, you're just the best!" she told the ceiling.

She sprawled about on the comforter, then performed an idiotic horizontal dance, which she then extended as gracefully as she knew when she stood back up and conquered the full surface of the room. She swayed, she sashayed...

And for once, everything was as important as her dangling penis:

She was naked.

Not naked to take a shower; not naked to get dressed. Naked for the sake of being naked.

And that was it. She stood there. Complete. She was naked. And that was it.

She focused on the awareness of each part of her body, the awareness of their exposure. Then on her whole form.

It felt so good.

Good

, a word so broad she could put anything into it. Freedom, apparently. But deep down she knew better.

Because she could hear what her sex drive had been screaming from the moment Lily had engaged the operation.

Gabrielle was ready to have the most depraved afternoon of her life.

Did the thought terrify her? Yes. But the first step was taken, done, and she covered her mouth with her hands, the hair on the back of her neck rising and tickling.

Oh my gosh, I'm gonna do it! Of course I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna do it all!

She gasped loudly, breaking her silent rush like a sacrilege. And the reason this gasp had slipped out of her mouth was no less sinful: her penis had twitched.

A few more like this and she would be hard.

And getting out of breath, Gabrielle did something she believed all men did: she talked to it.

"Wait, I'm gonna..."

She spun like a clumsy but carefree ballerina to the beanbag chair in front of the TV on the wall and lay down on her back, arched till it fit the moving shape of it, till the top of her scalp and the tip of her toes were touching the floor.

It was a strained position, one that would hurt soon--and probably looked ridiculous--but right now it didn't. She was becoming curves and lines.

Black lines of hair and the curve of her back and the angle of her legs and their knees and the arch of her feet. Only to project her beautiful cock upright while she couldn't see but would soon feel hard as a straight line. As the bend was unusual, the erection swelled inescapable.

She closed her eyes, crossed her forearms over her face and drank her rising.

She flexed the root of her shaft as stiff as she could and hummed with delectation as the strong buzz of her blood rocketed up to the head and then, going back down, would leave her cock a little harder. She did it over and over until she didn't have to anymore.

And she stayed like that, enjoyed the most contracted state her penis could get to, taut like it was going to burst, clenched, sensitive and delightfully unnatural. Hard as diamond. Shiny, shiny diamonds.

Now pull back your foreskin, it's gonna feel so good

, she told herself.

But if I start precumming?

The carpet!

She rolled over and crashed down on the floor with a giggle.

Gabrielle stood up and her erection was so perfect it looked like a prop harnessed to her body. The five steps she took to reach the dresser resonated inside of her pelvis.

But it was quickly forgotten as she opened the upper drawer and saw among Lily's clothes the object neither of them had dared call by its name. An old worn towel, which she would put in the trash afterward.

They had provided a cumrag for Gabrielle.

A precumrag.

She picked it up, bit her lower lip as she turned around and slowly pushed the drawer shut with her butt.

That's when she saw the iPad on the bed. And all its possibilities.

Nope. Nopenopenope

*****

The bedroom door creaked open. Gabrielle stuck her head out.

No one around.

Of course, dummy.

She stepped into the hallway.

In her left hand were her clothes, on her right forearm was the old towel.

She looked around again and started walking, almost on tiptoe, almost hunching in fear, especially near the windows, expecting to see a neighbor across the street looking through binoculars.

This high-strung expedition down to the living-room defused her penis to a half-hard state. It didn't matter since she thought a semi felt and looked as good as a full erection.

And her clandestine nudity would get her back there soon enough anyway.

She put her clothes down on the armchair closest to the patio doors and put her phone on top of them.

From where she was standing, Gabrielle couldn't see the entryway, but she looked in its direction. Then at her phone. She could almost hear a key rattling the keyhole. She could almost hear her ringtone.

She rehearsed the abort maneuver in her head one more time.

Then she turned around, none the more ready, and slid the patio doors open.

Warm air washed over her.

Already it was sexual.

It's

so

nothing like walking on the beach in a swimsuit.

Yet again she had not gone to the beach in years.

The moment was not divided into seconds and minutes. It was divided in steps. And she took one first step outside. Across the threshold. Not yet into the sunlight. The soles of her feet met the surface of the patio slabs.

She looked back at her phone. She looked at the yard, craning her neck, tilting her head, still unconvinced that really no one could see.

Another step.

Oh my gosh, I'm naked.

I'm really doing it.

Why am I doing this? It's Lily who pushed me, I never asked for it.

She had never streaked back in her day as a girl, never skinny dipped, and now she was doing it with a penis that could be seen from space.

Gabrielle crossed the patio and crossed another illusory frontier: she met with the sun. The warmth, concrete this time, born of direct contact, hugged her in demand of a smile. Which it got. Eyes closed, Gabrielle stretched imperceptibly.

She kept walking. Suddenly it was grass under her steps.

And next thing she knew, she looked around and she was at the center of the backyard.

She was naked, outside.

So far away from her phone.

She would hear it if it had the good idea to ring, she would run and run upstairs and put her clothes back on in Lily's bedroom and sneak out of the house without being caught. She was able to do all that, but right now she was completely naked, drifting in the blue sky and she was smiling with the sun.

And here was a good time to pull her foreskin back, she was rock hard. And as she did, it kicked a sexual gasp from her mouth. The crown of her glans was so big compared to the circumference of her foreskin that it always felt like a mechanical clicking, but one that felt like the preview of an orgasm.

Light and air engulfed this special skin so delicate it was hidden most of the time.

It was amazing.

She looked at her cock twitching, its head swelling up.

You know what's better than being naked outside?

Oooh shut up!

Gabrielle felt shivers down her balls. She jumped like an athlete and when her feet touched the ground she ran back to the house. She burst into the living-room, shouted, "

I did it!

" and kept running, she ran everywhere, around, checking a box for every room of the first floor that she invaded with her nudity.

I did it! I did it! I--

Her parched up tongue stopped her in the kitchen. She went for a glass of water.

But there at the sink she saw something that called to her.

The measuring cup in the dishrack.

It was something she said she would do. And if it was kinda perverted, it wasn't gross, after all.

So she poured herself six ounces of tap water. Precisely. Eyes on the bottom of the meniscus. (Gabrielle paid attention in chemistry class.) But the result was still a little too abstract so she transferred it into a glass.

And then another one with a different shape. Then another one.

Turned out drinking glasses were standardized. And six ounces turned out to be the volume of one filled to the rim, more or less.

Mentally she replaced water with semen. Clear became opaque. Fresh became body temperature. She got goosebumps when she drank it down in three big gulps.