Cultural Exchange 5 - Split (Patreon)

I woke up after a hard night with barely any sleep, and the first thing I did was check my phone. No new messages. I could see that Clara had read the message, but hadn't replied.

My feet dragged as I forced myself out of bed. My goal was still the same, even if I had no one to share it with.

The morning felt particularly rough. I knew it was partly due to the lack of sleep, but also, everything seemed worthy of sharing with Clara, but I couldn't. It was clear she wanted nothing to do with me.

Then the time for the wine call came. For me, it became idle time. I needed to fill it somehow, but the only way I wanted to do it was by talking to Clara.

I typed and erased more than ten messages for her. Asking for our wine call, then apologizing again, another one pleading for her reply, and even one "shouting" at her for her silence. I never hit send.

While I stared at the screen, I saw three dots appear. I held my breath for what felt like ten minutes waiting for her message, but it never came.

"Are you there?" I sent in my desperation, but she didn't reply.

I decided not to linger on that, or it would eat me alive. I looked for some erotica to read. It was my usual routine: put on some background noise on the TV while I take care of myself.

I found something exciting to read and grabbed Marc. Somehow it felt wrong in my hand. I tried ignoring that feeling and kept reading, but I wasn't focused on the story, and I never felt like turning on my toy. It was like the joy had been drained from me. Or maybe I wanted to share that joy with Clara, but I couldn't.

Marc went back under the mattress, and I took a shower. I still had work to do.

My day ended without news from Clara. My parents helped me again with my business, as they had been doing the last couple of weeks, but they respected my mood, which I appreciated.

I wrote another good night message; I decided it was my last one. Not because I didn't want her back, but because I had to respect her wishes. "Good night, mon chérie. I missed you again. I want our friendship back. Ta Shime."

A dreamless night, which went by in a blink, ended with my alarm blasting from my phone.

I started my day. I made myself not look at my phone or wait for her to contact me. I couldn't do that to myself anymore.

While my mom and I baked, my phone received a notification. My hands were sticky with dough, but when I saw Clara's name on the screen, I immediately unlocked it, making a mess of it.

"I guess I don't have to ask who it is," Mom said as I practically ran to my room to read the message.

It was just one line, but it made my stomach feel butterflies again: "It's ma chérie, Shime." I teared up. I couldn't look away, and another text came: "Wine call?"

I wasted no time, pride be damned, and replied, "Same time, can't wait."

When I returned to the kitchen, I was practically skipping, and my mom noticed it.

"May I take a wild guess and say that you and Clara have patched things up?" she said with a broad smile.

"Not really, not yet, but we might!"

"That's wonderful, dear; now go wash your hands. I'm not going to do all your work for you, you know?"

"Oh, are you being rebellious? I might have to withhold pay so you learn to respect the boss around here!"

"Bite me! You don't even pay me!" Mom replied, holding back her laugh.

"And now I never will. I'll just have to extend your internship until the next ice age!" I replied and threw a bit of flour her way.

"I call for a strike!" She shouted and threw some flour back at me, and we both cracked up.

"It's lovely to see you in a better mood, honey. Now let's hurry up, these croissants aren't going to bake themselves," she said. Every time she said "croissants," she made this fake French accent and made a hand gesture. It was always funny.

Mom and I fell back into our usual bickering and chatter, like before Clara stopped talking to me. I guess Mom had always been herself; it was just me who couldn't stand being happy while Clara and I were distant. That was something to think about, if that's who I wanted to be.

After another successful morning of selling pastries, the expected time for our wine call came. I decided against drinking this time; I wanted to give all my attention to Clara. I also chose to take the call at my desk, fully clothed, rather than naked in bed as I had been. My heart told me we needed to actually patch things up before returning to our intimacy from before, if we ever did.

A message popped up on my screen; it was Clara: "Ready?"

I called her this time. She picked up right away, and just like me, she was clothed in her room. We shared a moment of silence, and I couldn't help but make a shy smile, enjoying her company, even if it was just us being quiet.

"Luc was being a crétin," she said, breaking the silence. "Or maybe he was being, you know, Luc, but I couldn't stand it; we fought, and I realized… I needed you, I had to tell you. So, Luc has been a jerk."

"And how does that make you feel?" I replied as I crossed my legs and pretended to take clinical notes on an imaginary notepad.

"JAJAJAJA! Shime!"

"Ok, ok, you don't need a psychologist then. So, what happened? Why was he being a cretón?"

"Crétin. I might not have been in the best mood these last couple of days, and he mocked me for being déprime. I reacted badly, and we started shouting; it got so ugly our parents had to step in."

"I'm so sorry you went through that, mon chérie. Did you say anything you regret?"

"Oh, no, the crétin deserves every insult he got, but I still had to apologize for exploding so badly."

"Speaking of it. I need to apologize for…"

"Stop it, just… stop. I know you didn't do it intentionally or to expose me. I put myself in that position. I had been thinking about it and… J'ai paniqué; I felt like I was starting to be in the middle of you and Marcos, and it happened too fast. Maybe I thought you were using me to keep Marcos at arm's length, but when you sent him mes nichons, I felt dragged into something more."

I took a second to read into her words. Her concern made sense, since it had also been echoing in the back of my head.

"Are we going too fast?" I asked.

"NO! No. J'aime you and me. I just don't know if I want you and me and Marcos. And I don't know if now that's all we can have."

Her words felt like a bucket of ice water. But it made sense; we hadn't talked about what we were getting into, and suddenly Marcos was also in the picture. How long would it take before he started asking for pics of Clara? What would happen if she said no? Could I say no to Marcos? What would he expect to happen when we came back for her month in Guadalajara?

"Shime? Did your camera freeze?" She asked in that sexy French that melted my heart.

"I'm here; I was just thinking. You're right. Whatever is happening between me and Marcos should stay between him and me. It's been fun, but you don't know him, and more importantly, you don't trust him. If you ask me to stop sexting with him, I will. Nothing he and I have done is more important to me than your friendship."

"No Shime, you do what you want to do and be with who you need to be. I'll be here. Say to Marcos that I got cold feet." She paused for a second; she knows he loves feet, so the comment made both of us laugh. "But you both have something nice and fun; I won't get in the way."

"Does that mean you and I…" I asked with genuine sadness.

"Oh, non! You and I will keep having wine calls! You won't get away from me so easily."

"And, uhm. This is awkward. I… I've really been enjoying spending time with you, like, you know, freely?"

"Ah, you mean à poils? Naked?"

"Yes! à poils! It's been fun and exciting and weirdly freeing. Can we still do that? Maybe not every time, but I'd hate to lose that."

As I talked, I noticed Clara blushing and looking away.

She put her phone down, and I saw her whole room. The afternoon light seeped through the gaps in the curtains. She locked eyes with me and started undressing.

Her body was covered by a small t-shirt and bike shorts. First the shirt went over her head, revealing her gorgeous breasts and flat belly that seemed to shine in the dark of her room. Her button-like nipples were already hard.

With her eyes fixed on me, she grabbed her biker shorts and made a side-to-side rocking motion with her hips, easing the passing of the shorts through her wide hips. Under the shorts she had white, lacy underwear. 

I was about to ask her to turn around, but she beat me to it. She made half a turn, and I could see she was wearing a thong. I was speechless looking at the sexy spectacle of my friend stripping for me. The underwear left her full round butt exposed, with a small white strip of fabric lost between her cheeks.

"I rarely use thongs. Do you like them?" She asked. Her head was turned to the camera. She had a bashful look in her eyes.

"I love anything you put on. You're trés belle," I replied.

She grabbed the tiny fabric on her hips and pulled it slowly down. It reminded me of the first time I saw her undress. That time it felt mechanical, like she was just getting changed. Now it felt intimate, private. A show meant only for me, for my enjoyment.

I watched the fabric rolling down her butt and her thick thighs. I enjoyed every second of the show.

When her panties were on the floor, she stayed bent over and turned to see the camera once more.

"Honestly, they were killing me; I prefer being nue."

"I also prefer you nue."

She turned around and came closer to her phone. Her hairy pussy came closer and closer, filling my screen.

"I gave it a little shave; do you like it?" She said, playing lightly with her pubes, opening her pussy slightly. I couldn't really see the difference; this was the first time I had seen her vagina so closely.

"It looks yummy."

She picked up the phone and pointed it at her face. She took one finger to her mouth and said, "It is."

"Now it's your turn," she said and walked over to her bed, where she lay down.

My phone stayed on my desk, and I walked away.

I turned on the lamp on my bedside table, casting its light across my back.

I had very little on, just a long rock band t-shirt that belonged to my dad and gym shorts. My shorts were barely visible, since the shirt was so long.

I tried being as sexy as Clara had just been, but there was no way to match her.

When I lifted my shirt, my head got stuck on it, making me flail a bit, trying to get it off.

"Do you need help, ma chérie?" she asked as she giggled.

My head was finally free, and I approached the phone, pushing my tits together and blowing a kiss to the camera.

Then I walked back and dropped my shorts in one swift motion, which got me some whistling and cheering from Clara.

"Mon Dieu! You're so gorgeous, Shime!"

I walked over to the desk and heard her laughing. "Shime, I think you need a bath; you're covered in flour!"

I ran a finger through my collarbone and, sure enough, there was flour.

"You may be right. Care to join me?" I said in a seductive voice.

"I'd love to, but my parents and I are going au ciné. I'm sorry."

I was a little heartbroken at her reply. But I sucked it up and gave her my best smile.

"No problem. Wine call tomorrow then?"

"Oui! And I have an idea; instead of being nues why don't we put on some nice lingerie to show off?"

"I love it; I'll pick something nice. Talk to you tomorrow," I said and ended the call.

I was so distracted by the call that I opened the door to my room, trying to get to the bathroom when a cold breeze reminded me I was naked. I slammed the door shut and quickly put my clothes back on.

When I opened the door again, my mom was outside my room and asked me, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I was just on my way to get a shower and forgot something."

My mom looked at me from head to toe and smiled. "Ok, so, how was your call with Clara? Are you two ok?"

"Yeah, we're getting there; we'll have another call tomorrow."

"Should I order some more wine?"

"No, I can get it later, thank you, though," I replied, ignoring her sarcasm.

When I got to the shower, I understood why Mom was amused. My t-shirt was inside-out. It wasn't like that when we baked before.

While I showered, I thought about our wine calls and how, even though they started with nudity from day one, they somehow felt more and more intimate each passing day.

The image of Clara's pussy came to my head. She was wet. Her round gorgeous ass looked inviting, and I wished I was there to push her onto the bed and eat her with my face buried between her cheeks.

My right hand went to my vagina, and my left cupped my breasts. I wasted no time. I was soaking and ready. I slid one finger inside me and then another. I bent over slightly and imagined Clara eating my pussy right there in the shower.

The running water covered my moans, at least partially, and I knew Mom was downstairs and Dad wasn't home. 

"Oh, fuck, Clara, eat my pussy; yes, I've been craving your tongue for so long," I said as my fingers fucked me faster and faster.

My legs failed me, and I had to kneel in the shower, but I never stopped fingering myself.

"Oh, god, yes, YES!" I shouted as my hand trembled and my fingers got crushed inside my contracting vagina. I knew I had to stop. But I was too horny. I lay on the cold shower floor and let the hot water wash me as I inserted three fingers in me and played with my clitoris with my other hand.

My sensitive pussy couldn't take much more. My stomach contracted, and I felt a new pressure inside me. I let go. As my second orgasm came, I felt a relief I had never felt before, at least not during an orgasm. My fingers left my vagina, but I kept flicking my clit hard and fast. The hot relief came a couple more times before I was done.

As I laid naked on the shower tiles, my mind drifted back to Marcos and Clara and all that had been going on. I needed to tell him about Clara not being in our game anymore.

Then it hit me. I didn't want to tell Marcos about Clara and me anymore. Not because I was ashamed of it, but because it was intimate. Private. This wasn't a story for Marcos to jerk off to; it was ours to live.