Summer time. Outside of my friend's party. We sat in the car and talked, and I just felt this irresistable pull towards her. I didn't want to stop being near her. It felt completely different than when we were together on our first date, just days before.
The shy, awkward, nervous, fidgety, tense moments were gone. I had told her (a day or two before) that I would never make the first move on her, it would be up to her what she wanted out of "us". Which freed me from even thinking
about it. How selfish of me, but what a relief, to be free from the burden of "What is this going to be, friends or possibly something a bit more?". As the effects of the chocolatey illegal substance
wore off, and we talked, my interest in her kept growing.
We moved from the car back to the party. We stood outside on the porch as I smoked my clove cigarette. She was so shy, as we talked, she kept putting her head down, bowing way down, and inadvertently exposing the delicate nape of her neck. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. It was impossible. Her liquid brown eyes darted around the room, not quite looking me in the eye for more than a second before flashing away.
Finally, I couldn't bear the suspense one more moment. I asked for a small favor - her face was a study in contrasts - fear and shock flitted across it, as did longing and lust (I think). I whispered, "No; it's not what you think - it's just a little thing; please - just let me look in your eyes - just for a moment. Please?" Lucky me - she did, just turned her head back towards me and gazed. I just dissolved into the depths of her sweetness, reflected in her eyes. I can't explain this thing, this happening - words feel like cliches, worn out phrases, nothing does it justice, believe me.
Alternating between subtle, complex, tiny waves of desire, adoration, whimsy, fascination, visual beauty, souls touching - maybe, connecting, hesitantly, softly, feeling the heat rising in the room quite unmatched by the heat of the unspoken.
I wanted to kiss her between the bones of her spine, as her soft, sensous, wavy mocha hair fell down, hiding her face as she whispered words and phrases. I had to bend down to hear, taking her hair in my hands and tucking it behind her ear and tantalized by her cheek. What did we even talk about? I'm not sure, but at one point she was moved to tears. I remember feeling the complex commingling of my feelings finally reaching some sort of odd climax, and making my body shake, something had to happen, had to escalate, but wouldn't, but couldn't, not now, not yet, so soon, no no... so my body just shuddered throughout as I clawed the corner of the bed, chaste bed, guest bed, we only laid upon you as we connected through the ether.
That's when the tears came, she thought it too much for me, pushed me to an edge, thought something else was going on, triggering an old fear, perhaps. But no... no, not that at all.
I remember laying there, with her, as we sat up on the bed, then lay back down, sometimes chatting easily, sometimes saying very little, touching arms, stroking arms, holding hands, scratching backs, brushing aside hair. At one point I massaged her back; her body is a temple, truly. I gave her a very platonic massage, but near the end, I couldn't help myself and slid my hands down her sides and back up. As she laid back down, points raised and beckoning, I could only imagine what she thought, only read so much into her body language and eyes.
At some point, she kissed my hand. I was delighted. I was charmed. I was thrilled. Such a simple thing. I can still feel it. So our heads were close together as she murmured something (feeling shy) and I bent down to kiss her hand - never dreaming she would rise up and snatch a kiss from me, taking my breath and making my head whirl. It was simply not what I expected, nor anticipated, oh no. I felt like I had been kissed by an angel.
She (later) allowed me to touch her stomach; and keep holding her there; the sexual tension tightened its grip on me and I lay prisoner to her body. I could not take my eyes off her breasts, perfect beacons of desire, nipples hardening and softening as the moments passed. I saw for myself the effect touching her like this had. Her belly is perfect, I never felt her skin under her shirt; afraid to move my hand because if I once started, I don't know for sure if I could stop. I stared at the rounded area between her shirt and her pants, only a quarter inch of skin peeked out at me, daring me to touch it. I did not dare, not my place, not my right, no, I couldn't even think of it.
It ended at some point early in the morning, a lifetime passed in a few hours at a summer party.