Act IX

Sunday

It was morning.  I did not sleep well for anticipation of the coming day.  It was all I could think about; I was going to go over to Sara’s house, and we would spend the day just the two of us.

Sara.

This girl was so beautiful the sun paid tribute at her feet.  She was going to be home alone for the entire evening, and she wanted me to come over.  Me.  No other friends, no family, no one else to look and see, no one else to watch out for, no custodial staff to walk in on us, just total me and her time.

I had a bowl of granola cereal with raisins and half a grapefruit for breakfast, and I couldn’t inhale it fast enough.  The only question was how to get over there; she lived about six miles from my house.  And maybe that doesn’t seem like much to you, but remember I still didn’t have a car.

The solution?

I walked.  I didn’t give a crap, either; I wasn’t about to waste time explaining to my mom exactly why I needed her to take me over there, as if it would have been any of her business anyway.  My phone said it was going to take me an hour and a half, but who cared?  Sara’s mom was gone, so that gave us eleven hours of private, uninterrupted play time.

Less curfew.

Screw curfew!  What’s a year’s worth of punishment next to a few more hours of playtime with Sara Temptation?  Some things are just worth it.

I walked.  Of course you know I thought while I walked, so maybe that was a mistake.  I started out thinking about all the nasty things I wanted to do with her.  I was going to pin her to her bed, maybe tie her up or something.  I was going to feel that perfect little ass in my hips, going to rub my face in her bare legs, anything I desired.  I felt the tension sticking out in front of me just going through the possibilities.  Oh, what a fun sensation.  Oh what a fun line of thinking.

Except what if she didn’t want that?

What if the whole idea of her having me over was about caving to my desires rather than anything she actually wanted to do of her own accord?  What if that was the basis for our whole relationship and I was just oblivious to how pushy I was?  Maybe I put her off with all the unwelcome advances.  I loved being with her, sitting and talking and flirting, but I also loved touching her.  Wasn’t that wrong?

I should have loved something else; I shouldn’t have loved that.

Oh, man.  Do you remember that time she’d said she was afraid of being alone?  That was it, wasn’t it?  That was us.  I gave her all this attention over her body and how pretty she was but in reality she didn’t want any of that kind of attention; she wanted companionship.  She didn’t want some horny boy drooling all over her like I did; she tolerated it because I gave her the illusion of companionship.  She picked up on my state of mind, assessed that I wouldn’t want to spend time with her sans the sexy play, and gave me what I wanted because she was afraid of being alone.  She was acting out of fear, wasn’t she?  And I was too absorbed in my desires to pick up on any of that.

I was a loathsome animal.

That was the whole point, wasn’t it?  I needed to learn how to be around girls I was attracted to without acting like an animal, and I acted like an animal every time I saw her.

I stopped walking for a moment to collect myself.  I looked to the left and saw into the window of a Chinese restaurant, a happy couple smiling and laughing with their newborn baby as the husband tried in vain to show off how good he was with chopsticks only to drop every other morsel of food.

If it’s never appropriate, how’d they get that baby?

What if they were wrong?  What if I was wrong, and Sara wanted me to touch her?  What if she liked it when I touched her, and now I was going to back off, and my hesitation would completely turn her off from me?  She’d likely get tired of waiting and next thing I’d see her arm and arm with Joaquin or dancing a pas de deux with Meathead.  So I had to keep doing what I was doing knowing full well that I was probably just annoying her the whole time and she never wanted me to touch her in the first place.  Or she did and I was being a wuss.

I was going crazy.  Something compelled me to keep walking.  One might suppose I weighed the rewards with the probability of success against the penalties and associated probabilities.  I thought to make a contingency chart with associated risks and payouts arranged in each cell.  How was that supposed to go again?  You’d think I’d be able to do this.  Let’s see.  Red light, green light.  Top right hand corner…

Sex with Sara Templeton.

Done.  I walked fast after that point.

By the time I reached her house, or rather, duplex, my nerves were completely shot.  I’d realized that the potential reward was such that it pretty much blasted everything else out of consideration.  The best thing would be for me to go for it, and win or lose, I would clean up the mess later.

So I marched across the freshly-mowed weeds to the red, shingled house and knocked on the door.

She didn’t open the door but two seconds later, and let me tell you, if there was an ounce of doubt in my mind as to whether I’d come there for the wrong reasons, that was gone the moment my eyes found her.  She came to the door wearing her favorite oversized Yale sweater, you know the one where only her fingertips peeked out from the ends of the sleeves and the neckline draped loosely over her collar, but below that the creamy skin of her bare legs was exposed right down to her feet.  She’d let her dark, brown hair fall down to her neck in a loose mass of feral unruliness, and she smelled like heaven; like one of those fancy perfumes you sample at the department store though it costs a bazillion dollars.  I wanted to bury my nose in her hair and take her in, all of her.  She wasn’t merely a vision of beauty; she was an experience.

“Oh my God, you walked here?” she sang, her mouth half open in shock.  Her melodic voice only augmented my desire.

“I really wanted to see you.”

“Come in!” her voice smiled with the rest of her.  I knew she was watching my eyes the whole time; even when she turned away to lead me inside and my desire to look upon her was unleashed.

Such wonderful legs.  So lean.  Look at those calves.  So amazing.  Every few seconds she would twirl around and allow her eyes to skitter about.  She giggled, swinging her arms with a nervous energy and checked to see where I was looking.  And while I did look everywhere, I kept returning to the bottom hem of her oversized sweater, imagining the happy I would feel if she were to lift it up, just another inch or so.

“Are you hungry?” she chirped.  “I have some Ramen noodles and some ketchup packets…”

“No, not hungry, thanks.”  Think of another word that starts with H and ends in Y.

Sara stood in the kitchen facing me.  She kept fidgeting, though, swaying.  Her arms, and all I could see were her fingertips peeking out of the sleeves.  Her eyes darted around my face and she licked her lips.  Then, she turned around.  The fabric of her sweater fell freely over her body.  So sublime.  I could hear her taking a deep breath as she rested her hands on the countertop, which crept the hem of her sweater up along her legs just an inch or so.  But my Lord, what in inch!  I had to come up to her just then and put my arms around her.  I didn’t have a choice.  She put her hands on my arms and traced them out to my fingers.  I reached out for her body and she placed my hands on her stomach, lacing her fingers up with mine and moving them north from there.  I closed my eyes and buried my nose, brushing my face through her hair until I found her ear and planted a gentle kiss.  And who taught me to kiss her ear?  Nobody!  It felt like the thing to do.

And I wasn’t sure who’d taught her to arch her back and bury her ass into my hips, neither could I remember being taught to push back.  My member was excited beyond limits.  Then as I tried to migrate one hand south across her belly, she started to rock her butt back and forth, only to shake it fast, erupt in a giggle, and then crane her neck around to meet my lips with her own.

Then, just as my fingers almost reached their final destination, she turned around, brushing her hips into me with the same fervor as before and further arousing my excitement.

I brought my head down and kissed her hard, thrusting my tongue between her lips and she let out a moan of delight.  She rested her hands on my shoulders and devoured my lips with her own.

I just wanted to kiss her there, but my hands didn’t agree.  They caressed up to her shoulders and down to the small of her back.  She grabbed hold of my hair and pulled hard, kissing me with greater force, and so I caressed back upwards, basking in every contour of this girl’s heavenly body, only to travel back south.  I didn’t stop then, but put my hands firmly around her butt and squeezed, almost lifting her into me.  She let out another moan of delight, never once stopping our kiss.  Then she bit me.  Lightly, playfully, at first, and then took a decisive bite into my lower lip.

“Ow!”

She let go and started laughing.  I gazed down at her with my eyes wide.

“Sorry,” she giggled.

No matter.  I kissed her again and pushed my hands south and lifted up the hem of her sweater to where I could wrap around her butt without that obnoxious fabric getting in the way.  Meanwhile she bit me again, even harder than before.  No complaints; my erection was even harder than before — I didn’t think that was even possible.  I’d had in mind to reach down her panties and grab some skin but there were no panties to reach into.  Sara had nothing on at all underneath that sweater.

My heart raced.  This was it.  As in, This.  Was.  It.  This was happening.  She lifted one leg up and wrapped her calf around me and pulled me closer, and so I planted my hands firmly beneath her, brushing my fingers directly along her pussy and felt nothing but soft wetness.  I was ready, she was ready, and I have to say there’s a definite sea change in the feelings of anticipation from when one is ‘just playing’ to when all the constraints are removed.

I had to pull our lips apart just to gaze upon her beautiful face; I had to see this girl I was about to make love to.  Damn, she was enchanting.  How her eyes darted back and forth between mine, stealing glances to my lips every few moments.  I had to kiss her again.

I needed her.

Now.

So I placed my hands firmly below her butt and lifted.  She responded by wrapping those heavenly legs around my body and kissing me once more while I turned and made for the living room, where a plush, brown, leather couch awaited.

Setting her down, I took a minute to bathe my sight in her as she hoisted her sweater over her head, revealing her pristine, milky skin from head to toe.  She smiled wide as I appreciated her, almost laughing, before kicking me.  I tried to come in close for another kiss, but she held her hand up, blocking me.  I was going insane, I just wanted to touch her again; but instead she migrated her fingers down to my shirt and lifted it up, snagged the thing on my arms, and so I finished the job while her fingers fumbled at my belt buckle.

A part of me wanted to help, just to come into her so much sooner.  But instead, I simply looked down and watched her struggle with the thing, utterly amused.  Beneath my belt I could see, just as I could feel the immense tension there, a blue pyramid from where my cock was sticking out for her like a lighthouse.  Her trembling fingers futzed around for far too long, and her exasperated cries only heightened my excitement.  I watched, trying to imagine if this was what it felt like when a guy can’t figure out how a bra works, and if it would be such a turn-on for her as it was for me when it doesn’t come off directly.

At last, she figured out she had to pull the thing, and it came loose.  I could see the look of satisfaction in her face and took a deep breath in anticipation of what would come next.  And you know what came next.  She wrapped her fingers around my waist and slipped them gently down my pants, taking a firm hold of my butt and allowing my pants to slide down her wrists.  I responded by reaching out for her beautiful breasts and teasing at her nipples with my thumbs.  She leaned forward, and I brought my face down to meet her lips, where we kissed some more.

As our lips danced, I could feel her fingers tugging at my underwear, trying to bring it down.  At last, she broke our kiss and rested her forehead to mine, looking down at that which was to emerge, and pulled my boxers out and over the threshold, granting her the coveted view she so desired.  I was strong and hard, and throbbing in my readiness for her.  I glanced down at her bare pussy, mere inches away and glistening in the light of the room.

It was time.

I leaned forward, pressing her back into the couch, and planted my lips over one of her breasts, kissing it sucking around it, massaging her taut nipple with my tongue.  She let out a moan and her breathing grew heavy.  She had one hand wrapped around my shaft and tried to stroke some but kept losing rhythm as I toyed with her nipples.  I moved my hand to her hip and sated myself in her sweet curves, Oh how I wanted this girl.  I sucked and sucked, moving her nipple around between my lips trying to get to the tootsie roll center and listened to the sweet music of her voice in ecstasy, when I stopped hearing her.

Her body had stopped writing beneath mine, her hand on my cock froze, and everything became silent.

Did something happen?  I pulled away and looked up at her.  Her smile was gone, replaced by a blank, expressionless gaze in which her eyes followed me with the same sterility one might expect from watching a cockroach scamper across the floor.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

She took in a sharp breath and held it there, closing her eyes hard and let it out slowly, before coming back with a whisper as faint as an autumn breeze, “I want to wait.”

I did something wrong.  Maybe the couch wasn’t the right place.  I’d sucked on the wrong breast.

“I’m so sorry,” she furthered, bringing up one hand to cover her eyes.  Then she sniffled and got out a stronger statement in a stronger voice.  “I want to wait.”

I checked the arm of the couch as if the answer lay there somehow.  I tried the wall behind us; maybe there was a sign telling me what to do.  Maybe a motivational poster.  I sniffed my armpit.  Didn’t smell anything.  I looked over the the sentence again, thinking maybe I’d accidentally doubled a definite article or something, and was about to have someone re-check my 1040 for errors.

I didn’t even file a 1040.

I didn’t even know what a 1040 was at the time, but I was damn well ready to have someone look it over.

“Um…” I said.  It wasn’t much, but it was a start, at least.  Wasn’t it?

She sniffled again, biting both lips at the same time.  Her nipples were still poking fun at me.  I was a sissy for allowing this to stop, wasn’t I?

“Um…” I tried again.  “Did I… did I do something wrong?” I said.  I felt so pathetic.  “Did I do something wrong?  Is my breath OK?  Did I hurt you?  Is it… I don’t know…”

I looked down at my stomach and tried to suck in my gut.  I looked fat.

I let out an exasperated breath and looked around the room some.  I ran my tongue across the tender spot in my lip where she’d bitten me; I shouldn’t have protested.  Maybe that put her off.  Taking my cock in my hands, I tried to measure it; maybe it wasn’t big enough for her standards.  Hopefully that wasn’t it, right?  I tried again.  “Was I too rough?  I can be gentle…”

Maybe I was too gentle; I should have been rough.

“I love you,” she interrupted me.  And with those words an ocean washed over me and washed away all the crap that was piling up on the beach of my mind.  And I was ready to listen.  I sat down next to her on the couch.  The two us otherwise horny teenagers sat hip to hip, skin to skin and ready to go, and weren’t going anywhere.  But at least I was ready to listen.

“I’m so conflicted,” she said.  “I’m so sorry.  I thought I was ready.  I wanted this so badly.  I called you to come over because I wanted this so badly.  I couldn’t sleep last night; all I could think about was having you inside me and what it would feel like, but I can’t do it.  I’m so sorry.  If you want to leave, I’ll understand.”

“Why would I want to leave?”

Her eyes leaked, and she sniffled some more.  “God, I’m such a wreck.  You were hoping this would turn out differently, weren’t you?”

Um… yeah.  I tried not to answer that out loud; she’d already felt bad about it.

She took a deep breath.  “I want to tell you.  I want to explain.  I just don’t know how to say it.  I don’t want you to feel bad; I’m afraid.  I don’t want you to feel bad.  It’s not your fault; it’s mine.  All mine.  I like you.  I want you so badly, God how I want you so badly, I just…”

She sniffled again.

“Close your eyes and speak the truth,” I said.

She looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed together.

“Seriously.  Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and let the thoughts flow through your mind.  Focus on your breath and do that until your mind is clear.  Then when you’re relaxed, say something that’s the truth.”

She did.  She sat still, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.  I watched as those delicate tits lifted right along with her chest, nipples poking out taut as ever.  I can still feel them on my lips.  My desire burned away just looking at her naked body, flaring up to the point of reigniting that which inflamed us both just minutes before.

“Actually,” I cut her short, “go put some clothes on; if we’re going to talk I can’t hear you when you’re dressed like this.”

She laughed.  Then she turned those sweet eyes to mine and her whole face relaxed into the spritely giggle I loved her for.  With that, she sat forward as one about to get up.  Then, she turned to look at me with a squint in her eye and a smile cracked across her lips.

“What?”  I shook my head, unable to fathom just how bad she was.

She said nothing, but moved in extreme slow motion, first turning her back to me, before leaning her whole body forward and lifting herself off the couch with her knees.  The dream view.  Right there inches from my face was her full nakedness, bent over and calling to me.  She peeked over her shoulder, still moving in slow motion, and shook her hips from side to side a little.  I was given to sit perfectly still and just bask in her glory, but was instead compelled to lift my hand so that I could reach out and brush my fingers across her bare folds, glistening before me.  And when my fingers were almost there, she stood the rest of the way and took a step forward, never once turning her face away from me.

“That wasn’t nice,” I complained.

“Sorry!” she giggled.  Then she started walking, slowly, slowly, one step at a time, placing her toes to the floor and arduously planting her feet with great deliberation, all the while being careful to make sure I was still studying her masterful physique from her heels to her shoulderblades and every sacred inch between.

Another step, and I was tired of just watching; I had to take this girl’s body.  I got up.

As soon as I did, she bolted from the living room.  I followed her, running and chasing her down.  Unfortunately for me, she’d already made it to her room, and by the time I turned the corner to the hall, I could only catch a flash of her passing beyond the door before she locked it.

Man, I fought that door handle so hard, but it wouldn’t give.  I slammed my body against the door, hoping that might give me access to her.

“Don’t break my door!” her muffled voice came from behind.

“I need you!”

“I still want to wait,” she said.

“Then what was that about?”  It wasn’t fair.

“Promise to think of me when you touch yourself?”

I already did.  It was all I could do to try and calm down and wait outside her door.  And it occurred to me: what if her mom would have gotten out early and walked through the door just then?  She would have seen me sitting on the floor of the hallway, butt-naked with my stuff hanging out outside her daughter’s bedroom door.  How would I have spun that, exactly?

How would you?

“Hey,” she called to me from behind her door.

“What’s up?”

“What do you want me to wear?”

“What are my choices?”

“Anything you like…”

Now that was a tantalizing proposition.  I could have chosen anything.

“I have a bikini… that really short skirt you put me in the other day… or what I had on earlier…”

The prospect of her walking around the house in her underwear titillated my mind.  And for a normal girl in a normal situation, that should have been the correct answer.  But when it all boiled down, there was only one thing that stuck out that, to me, was the sexiest thing I could see her in.  “How about your dance uniform?”

Silence.  Then a moment later, “my dance uniform?”

“You know, the black leotard with the white stockings?”

She cracked her door open and looked at me quizzically.  “Really?”

My erection had returned to full force just picturing her in it.  Her eyes migrated south across my body and found it there standing at attention.  “Yeah,” I nodded.

Then she sung out that word again, drawing each letter out in her discovery.  “Really?”

Then she closed the door again.  I wasn’t sure if I should have put my clothes back on or not.  I kinda didn’t want to, but then I thought maybe it would have felt weird me sitting there all naked while she had on such an outfit.  And so I left back into the living room to gather up my clothes.  I’d just pulled my pants back up when she emerged in the hallway, the light behind her casting her graceful body in sublime silhouette.  I had to catch my breath she looked so delicious.

“So this is what you like, huh?”

I couldn’t speak.  I only nodded.  She’d put her hair up in a bun and put on her pointe shoes and everything.

“And every Thursday at dance class, this is how you like to see me, hmm?”

I still couldn’t speak.  The light reflecting off her legs came to my eyes and zapped my voice away, so I only could nod in affirmation.  I fumbled around with my shirt, looking for the arm holes.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“Mmm?” I grunted.

“I don’t want your shirt on.  I want it off.”

I threw it at the couch.  Didn’t need it.

“In fact, take your pants off.  Keep your underwear on or I won’t hear anything you say.”

By the time she finished speaking, my jeans were already on the floor by themselves.  She walked up to me, rested her arms over my shoulders, and looked up into my face.  I moved down to kiss her, but instead she brought her whole body into mine and pressed in, wrapping her arms around me and holding me tight.  It was a hug.  A friendly, affectionate hug filled with deep passion and adoration, to be sure, but definitely not the sexual kind of hug one might have hoped for.  I returned the gesture, holding her tight in my arms.  Feeling her slender body against mine was serene, to me.  While it wasn’t quite what I’d expected coming over to her place, she melded her soul to mine in a deeper kind of way that, who knows, might not have been possible had we done that other thing, that thing she wanted to wait for.

Screw it.  I grabbed her firm, perky ass anyway.  Damn she felt good.

She giggled and grabbed me in kind.  These kinds of things I have to wonder about.  She’d already said she wanted to wait, but what did that mean, exactly?

At this point, I was tired of not knowing.  Tired of speculating, tired of working myself into a stupor, and was ready to just sit with her and talk things over.  So, I leaned over and picked her up, carried her in my arms over to the couch, and sat down with her on my lap.  She draped herself over my body, resting her head against mine so that I could feel the wind against my cheek as her breath escaped her nose.

“So, um…” I started.  “You don’t want to have sex.”

“Don’t lie,” she told me.  “I want to.  You have no idea how madly I want to.  It’s just that… I don’t know… I feel scared.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Of everything!  We only met just a few weeks, not even a month ago, you realize that?  Everything’s moving so fast.  I’m afraid your feelings for me are going to change.  I’m afraid our relationship will be different.  I’m afraid my feelings will change.  I’m afraid I’ll feel like a slut.  I’m afraid you’d be disappointed if we do it, afraid of letting you down if we don’t.  What if we don’t talk like we do now?  I like us; I don’t want us to change.  I’m afraid of losing myself…”

“Sounds like you’re not ready,” I told her.

“I’m not ready.  I thought I was.  Oh, I thought I was so ready, I had this whole day planned.  I spent the whole night thinking about it, I spent the whole morning getting ready… and then I saw you at the door and I was ready.  And then we got close, and I realized I wasn’t ready.  I’m not ready.  It’s not you; I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I loved her.  I loved that she could be open with me, and I wanted in that moment more than anything to simply wait with her.  I’d have waited as long as it took; a year, two, ten, I didn’t care.  I wanted her to be ready.  But she wasn’t, and I had to be OK with that.  In the back of my mind I could hear the likes of some of the guys from school and how they liked to boast coaxing me to try and push her.  If she was so close to the edge as she said, and I believed her, I could have easily pressured her into it with some line like ‘just for a little bit’ or some other dipshit thing to say.  Then, it was what she said next that really struck me.

“People break up,” she sniffed and wiped the tear from her cheek.  “They get divorced all the time.  I can’t believe they think they’re going to split up when they get together, do they?  Maybe they feel about each other the same way I feel about you now, and then something happens and it doesn’t work out and then they don’t talk to each other anymore and they don’t love each other anymore.”

She turned her head to face me directly.  “I don’t want that to be us.  I want this to last; I want us to last.  I want to build something with you that, after a while, gets even stronger instead of crumbling apart, and I’m afraid if we go all the way now we’re just going to be like all those other couples and break up in a few months.”

And in that moment, my whole world view was torn apart, and once again everything was in chaos seeking a new balance.  I thought having sex must be the ultimate pleasure, and here this girl saying these things to me made me feel a pleasure far deeper than anything I could have imagined.  I’d say ‘better than sex,’ but I still haven’t actually had sex yet.  I thought it was her body I was attracted to; turns out it was just sitting with her, talking with her, sharing my soul with her.

And what she wanted, I wanted.  I wanted to wait.  Not so much that, but I wanted us to last.  I wanted that our relationship, our bond would last so long that when archaeologists found it ten-thousand years from now it still stood tall and proud.  And I understood.

There’s always a fear when you open up to someone like that; you don’t know if it’s going to turn them away from you, like if they see something they don’t like, will their feelings change?  Or if you’re too naked with them, will the loss of mystery turn them away from you?  She didn’t know how I was going to react when she put that brick wall in front of my desire for her.  But alI I could see was a human being I loved and cared for, and I wanted nothing more than to continue loving and caring for her.

“Sara, I love you, and I want to have sex with you but I don’t want it if you’re not ready.  I’m not going anywhere; if you want to wait a year, twenty years, however long…”

“I’m not waiting no damn twenty years.”

“Well, it’s just…”

“No.  If you want to wait twenty years you need to get with someone else because I’m not waiting no damn twenty years.”

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

She laughed, then took my hand in hers and laced her fingers up with mine.  We both took a deep breath and sighed together.  “Let’s wait,” she said.  “Just for a little bit, OK?”

I nodded.  “Where do we go from here, though?  Can I still kiss you?”

She broke into a smile.  I loved the way she smiled; it was as if a reflex caused her whole face to light up.  I lived for that.  Then, without a word, she leaned in and planted her lips to mine.  One kiss.

Screw it, I wanted another.  So I took one.  Then she took another one.

We sat still, gazing at one another and just appreciating the moment.  I never thought the prospect of not having sex could be so exciting.

“Can I still touch you?”

“You’d better!” she assured me.  “Although you know, in about a year and a half I’ll be a woman and I won’t want you to anymore.”