Burp and High

Without pause or hesitation, the lips continued their path, leaving the nerd a paralyzed witness; confusion and fear had severed the nerve connections required for movement. With his stomach churning, he could only stand as a spectator to an event that seemed ripped from a wild fever dream.

The other two girls said something—Iris, in particular—though to Arnold, the words sounded like they were coming from miles away.

“Uh... hang on, Astrid.”

“Ooh, I don't think he can hear you.”

Just as contact was about to happen, the turmoil in the young man's stomach triggered something he couldn't hold back.

“BURP!”

A belch rang out with the force of a cannon blast, hitting Astrid square in the face; startled, she threw her head back and opened her eyes wide, as if struck by a shockwave. For a minute, no one said or did a thing. Iris and Britney exchanged looks of pure surprise, while the dark-haired girl kept her gaze fixed on the nerd's mouth, perhaps expecting another explosion to erupt from it.

As for Arnold, the realization of his embarrassing blunder left him overcome with deep shame. His face turned so red it practically blended in with his hair; driven by the instincts of a shy person, he completely covered his face, retreating like a turtle facing danger.

He wanted nothing more than to vanish—to be anywhere where no one could see him. Then, the silence was broken by the trio's unmistakable laughter; he couldn't see them, but he could picture them mocking how pathetic he was.

“Hahahaha.”

“Hahaha.”

“Hahahaha.”

The laughter only amplified the young man's embarrassment tenfold, causing tears to well up in his eyes. Not knowing quite how to escape such a situation, he did the only thing his mind knew how to do. “Um... I’m sorry, I’m so incredibly sorry, Ms. Stone... no... it wasn’t my intention... I... I... it was a physical decompression reaction... it’s... it’s Henry’s Law’s fault... upon entering the stomach, the CO₂ from... from the beer must have heated up instantly, becoming extremely unstable and violently shifting from a liquid to a gas state... As it filled with so much gas, the hydrostatic pressure rose. My... my stomach panicked and sent an alert signal to the brain via the vagus nerve, indicating that internal pressure was exceeding safe limits... usually... usually, the Lower Esophageal Sphincter should prevent acids from rising by acting like a firewall... but... but I think the ethanol weakened the sphincter’s muscle function... and... and... well, what happened, happened.”

Once he started talking, he didn't know how to stop; he blurted it all out without really thinking about whether it made sense. He poured out his fears and embarrassment, hoping it would save him from a terrible punishment.

“M-Ms. Stone... I... I’m truly so sorry... please, please don’t kill me... I beg you, don’t kill me.”

The laughter died down, leaving silence once more—a silence that was nerve-wracking for the nerd. Suddenly, his frail hands were pulled down by stronger ones; despite the speed of the movement, it caused him no pain at all.

As soon as his face was uncovered, he met an intense, piercing gaze: pupils twice their normal size, moist lips parted by rapid breathing, and a flush so deep it spread all the way down her neck.

“Mmm... oh, Arnold... mmm,” Astrid said in a husky voice, panting heavily. “You... mm... drive me crazy.”

Grabbing him by the back of the neck, the dark-haired woman pulled Arnold’s head toward hers, initiating a moment the young man had never imagined would happen to him.

“ASTRID, DON’T DO IT!”

Iris’s warning was the last thing he knew of the outside world; once those lips sealed against the nerd’s, everything else vanished for him. Nothing else existed in that moment; all his senses heightened, focusing entirely on the kiss. The heat in his chest intensified, surging through the rest of his body and setting his very being ablaze, while that "tool" he never thought he’d use reacted, creating a painful pressure against his trousers.

His blurred vision barely managed to catch the athlete’s predatory gaze—the look of a woman in need, a look that screamed for his attention. Nothing made sense to the nerd; it was as if all the anger and fury she’d directed at him had transformed, in a split second, into a wild, insatiable lust.

“Mmm... hhmm.”

Taking the initiative, Astrid used her lips to part Arnold’s; it started with a gentle brush, then escalated until she slipped her tongue inside. Far from a rough intrusion, the movement felt so generous it was as if she were asking for permission to enter.

And, of course, Arnold granted her entry.

No matter how intelligent or rational Arnold was, he was still an eighteen-year-old boy with raging teenage hormones; that, combined with the alcohol in his system, created an extremely volatile mix.

A rush of dopamine and endorphins flooded his bloodstream, dampening his brain's control centers. The usual inhibitions—shyness and embarrassment—shut down, giving way to the ecstasy of the moment.

With those barriers gone, Arnold was seized by instincts that, while foreign to a complete virgin like him, quickly took command of his actions.

He parted his lips just enough to welcome Astrid’s tongue as she slid the tip in, grazing his own. Without a second thought, he relaxed his facial muscles—especially his jaw—and focused on breathing through his nose. That gave the dark-haired girl greater fluidity in her movements and allowed their faces to fit together more seamlessly.

Once that was done, he too pressed the tip of his tongue forward; he didn't dive in fully, preferring instead to mirror his "dance partner" with the same gentle touch. He then traced tiny circles around hers—movements she mimicked in turn—creating a dialogue that required no words, only their mutual desire.

Immersed in a surge of lust, ideas flooded his mind like a voice whispering to his consciousness—thoughts he had never considered acting upon, yet which the voice insisted were perfect for this moment.

Cleverly, he pulled back to plant light kisses on her lips and discreetly swallow, before sliding his tongue back in to resume "the conversation." He did so with such skill that Astrid let out a gasp of surprise; she responded to his move by wrapping her arms around the nerd’s lean back, pressing firmly enough to feel his hidden strength.

Noting this clear sign of approval, he acted on another suggestion that had come to mind, moving closer to place a hand at the nape of her neck. He massaged the area with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times; somehow, he knew this let his partner know he was on the right track.

And it worked; they drew their bodies together, their tongues entwining in a passionate embrace. "The conversation" picked up speed as they clung to one another, hungry for more. Both Astrid and Arnold used their hands to caress each other, casting aside all modesty and restraint.

Just when it felt like it might last an eternity, the dark-haired girl placed her hands on the redhead's cheeks; though a part of him felt a pang of sadness, he understood the message and slowly began to pull away.

The two brought the intense kiss to an end—Arnold Allen’s first kiss.