"Well," I said. "This isn't good."
David looked over at me from the driver's seat and offered me a little smile.
"It's not great," he said.
David was a friend. A good friend. A little too good at being a friend, for a guy who had such a big crush on me. It was no secret, though I'm sure he thought he kept it under wraps pretty well. But it was all over him. The kindness with which he treated me, the thoughtful way he considered my feelings, the way he remembered every little detail of my likes and dislikes. He just had no idea how to avoid friend-zoning himself. He was always unintentionally sabotaging himself by overthinking, and that was doing him exactly no good.
Not to mention the fact that he'd just driven us right off the road in the middle of a mountain blizzard.
To be fair, it wasn't his fault. The conditions had deteriorated with shocking rapidity over the past hour, and by the time it was clear that choosing to try and make the pass tonight had been the wrong move, it was far too late.
"I think we made the parking lot," he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as well as me.
I wondered if he really thought he knew where it was well enough to find it in a whiteout blizzard or if he was just trying to make me feel better. I chose not to voice my doubts.
"I hope so," I said. "If not, we'll probably get plowed under. No one will find us till spring."
He smiled wanly. "It is spring. This is one of those flukey storms."
"'Flukey' is not a word," I teased. Debating words was one of our inside jokes.
His smile widened and became a bit more genuine, which made me feel better. As bad as this situation was, I didn't want him to think he'd made things any worse. Getting off the road was the right move, and soon we'd have been frozen in place anyway.
"If this is the right spot, we're only a half a mile from the top," he said. "And by noon tomorrow the storm will be past and it'll be all plowed out."
I liked the sound of that. What I liked less was the way his fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he spoke, belying the nerves he was surely feeling.
Snow was already covering the windshield, large, heavy flakes that clumped immediately against the warmth of the glass. He flicked the windshield wipers once and the now-clear view of the featureless field of snow ahead of us did little to calm either of our fears. The headlights were nearly covered by the depth of the snowbank that had stopped us dead in our tracks, and at the furthest reach of their feeble beams we could see the scraggly pine trees that lined the road, or in this case, hopefully, the parking lot for the trailhead David was sure was right around here.
"So... do we play twenty questions until noon tomorrow?" I asked, checking my watch. That'll be fourteen hours worth of people, places, or things."
"Vegetables and minerals, too," he said. "Don't forget those."
"Oh, a correction," I said. "That's nice."
"What, you want to die frozen and wrong?" he asked with a giggle.
I rolled my eyes. He just couldn't help himself.
We were on the debate team at the community college together, and had, on this fateful night, elected to drive together rather than with the team due to unrelated prior engagements. The team had passed through in the school van several hours ago, long before the storm, and now here we were, two forlorn freshmen in a bad situation with nothing to do.
"It's too bad my mom wouldn't spring for a cell phone for my eighteenth," I murmured.
"My parents let me have this car for mine," David said, gesturing at the Saturn station wagon in which we rode. "They went and got a new one."
"Does the new one have a better heater?" I asked, rubbing my arms.
"It does," he replied easily. "But it doesn't have as spacious of an interior." He turned in his seat, gesturing to the backseat and large cargo area behind. "No window cranks on the new one either. Everything is push-button. Very boring."
I couldn't help but giggle. "If only this spacious interior had a comfortable place to sleep through a wintry night."
"Ah," he said, holding up a finger. "But it does. Observe."
I had to laugh as he leaned his seat back and did a comically clumsy job of getting his shoes off and climbing into the back seat.
"As you can see, Kelsey," he said, "the rear seats lay flat."
Like an airline stewardess giving a safety demonstration, he used broad gestures and exaggerated hand movements as he went.
"And, thanks to my mother's neurotic nature, we have a full survival kit back here, including, but not limited to..." he began to remove objects one at a time, "a flare gun, a hand-crank flashlight, a roomy sleeping bag, a box of waterproof matches to start a fire, a fire extinguisher, for, well... then three bottles of water, and something called 'pemmican.'"
I was laughing so hard that there were tears in my eyes by the time he was done.
"Also binoculars," he said, holding a pair and climbing back into the front seat laboriously.
"Why binoculars?" I asked, hiccuping, wiping my eyes carefully with the backs of my index fingers in hopes of preserving my mascara. It was always running when we were together because he made me laugh so much.
"Perhaps for spotting passing planes or ships," he said, looking through them out of the rapidly obscuring windshield. "I believe she is under the impression that any road trip holds a non-zero risk of being lost at sea."
I giggled some more. "What's pemmican?" I shook my head as he offered me the binoculars and he set them aside.
"You don't want to know," he said. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
I sighed, catching my breath at last.
"Thanks for making me laugh," I said.
"I love hearing you laugh," he said easily.
There was a moment of silence that wasn't exactly awkward. He complimented me often, and I knew better than to encourage him in those days. I really did think he was a great guy, but I knew he wanted more, and I just didn't feel the same way. Or so I'd always thought.
"How much gas do we have?" I asked softly, watching his gaze fall on the instrument panel.
He glanced at me, then back out of the windshield. He puffed out of a breath of air through pursed lips.
"Somewhere between 'uh oh' and 'not enough to last til morning,'" he said.
Something about the frankness with which he delivered the grim prognosis made me see him a little differently. We'd known each other since junior high, and I hadn't noticed until now the way his jawline had become more defined. There was a look in his eyes that was almost steely in that moment, and there was something steady and manly about the way he didn't try to hide the truth. For the first time, I wondered what his lips would feel like pressed to my neck, but I shook it off. I was supposed to be fearing death right now, wasn't I?
I found myself asking an uncharacteristically passive question, the type of thing a damsel might say to her knight. "What should we do?"
He looked over at me, and I was surprised once again to see that look on his face, the one that spoke of determination and action. A look that changed his face somehow, that made him seem older, and handsome. A look that made me want to trust him, to put trust in him. I felt a rising heat low in my belly. What was happening to me?
"The first thing we need to do is keep warm," he said. He looked over his shoulder at the sleeping bag, which was still rolled up in the back. "And that's... well." He shrugged, and looked like a boy again. "That's maybe all we can do."
The softening of his features calmed me somehow, made me feel like the world was sliding back into focus. Had he really looked different just a moment ago? And was it really so shocking that people can grow up right next to you? Everyone grows up. It wasn't going to change anything between us, and I wasn't about to climb into a sleeping bag with him for the night, as much as I liked him as a friend, and I opened my mouth to say so.
"Should we get in the sleeping bag now, or wait for the gas to run out?" I asked instead.
He looked at me thoughtfully, and something in that assessing gaze made my heart flutter in a way that I'd never have thought possible from a mere look from anyone, certainly not David.
"It would probably be smart to save gas in case it gets colder later," he said.
I shrugged. "If that's what we gotta do, we better do it."
"Get busy livin', or get busy dyin'," he said, quoting his favorite movie to me.
I climbed into the back first and he shut off the car and followed me. I untied the cord that held the sleeping bag and started to lay it out.
"How was your event?" he asked, joining me in the back of the now much darker car.
"Oh," I said. "It was fine. Just an awards thing for cheer."
"Did you win 'Most Likely To Blind Spectators With Your Smile'?" he asked.
I giggled. "They don't have an award for that," I said.
"Too bad," he said, helping me stretch out the bag. "I guess it would just go straight to you every year either way, though."
I smiled to myself, feeling the silly compliment in a new way.
He unzipped the bag most of the way, and I saw that it was indeed a roomy sleeping bag, finished with a soft-looking flannel lining and a thick layer of stuffing all around.
I became suddenly aware of my clothing. I'd chosen a comfy pair of light gray sweats for the drive, with a loose-fitting lavender sweater that did its best to hide my curves. I'd always been a bit self-conscious of my slightly overdeveloped breasts, since I got them so young. They were more proportional to my frame by that night, but there was no hiding perky D-cups in a t-shirt. Now I realized that there was going to be a boy--a man, part of my brain spoke up--very close to my body, all night maybe, for the first time. And here I was, dressed frumpy.
He climbed into the bag, throwing aside the top and laying himself down. He looked over at me shyly.
"I guess we're gonna have to be cuddle buddies," he said, and I noticed a little flush creep into his cheeks. I knew I was making some kind of errant dream come true for him, and I mentally winced, but the expected wave of discomfort or distaste didn't come. Instead, I felt a reciprocal interest, like an echo of the excitement he must have been feeling. The car rocked slightly with a gust of howling wind, and the encroaching cold, already sharper now with the heat off, made me shiver.
"What was your thing tonight?" I asked, trying to distract us from the moment as I laid down next to him. He fussed a bit in situating the sleeping bag over me.
"Hm?" he asked, reaching down to pull the zipper up. We were close, very close, and I rolled onto my side to look at him.
"What were you doing tonight that made you miss the van ride?" I asked, my voice softer due to our closeness. "The van that probably didn't get stuck in an April blizzard crossing the mountains."
"Oh, that van," he said, finally settling in and looking over at me, and I saw it in his eyes at once. We were only a foot apart, and it's awfully hard to deflect direct questions at that range.
I waited for him to say it.
"I just... had some stuff to do," he said evasively.
"You didn't," I said, and punched him lightly on the arm. "You skipped out when you heard me say that I couldn't make the departure time!"
He smiled, that little half-smile of his that meant I'd caught him in a fib.
"Well I hope you're happy," I said, pointing to the car window. "Now you're in it."
His smile softened. "I am," he said, and the sudden intensity of the statement, always his calling card, didn't make me flinch for once.
"I've always been a snuggler," I said, rolling over. "I guess if we're going to be cuddle buddies, we'd better get to it."
He made a little strangled noise of assent. "Yeah," he managed. "I guess so."
I felt the balance of power shift more familiarly back in my direction, and decided to use it to make things the way I wanted them.
"Here," I said, put your arm out under my head."
I lifted my head and his arm--his surprisingly muscled arm--slid into place. I laid my head on his bicep.
"Come on," I said. "Scootch in."
"Okay," he said.
I felt his legs contact mine, and then his chest on my back. He was warm, and I was surprised to find that I liked it.
"Come on," I repeated, reaching a hand back to find his hip.
Instead, I found something else. Something that protruded from his pelvis. Something very, very hard.
I froze.
"Sorry," he said, pulling away immediately from my touch. "I'm so sorry."
I grabbed his right wrist before he could pull his arm out from under my head, even as I felt his chest and legs move off.
"It's okay," I said quickly. "Really, it's okay."
"I didn't mean to--," he began, but evidently ran out of words.
"It's normal," I said.
"It just happens," he said.
"Of course," I said.
"I'll lay on my back," he said.
"Okay," I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
His warmth against my back and legs had felt wonderful, and, if I was being honest with myself, I hadn't minded when my hand had brushed against his hardness, either. It had surprised me, pressing so insistently through the fabric of his jeans, but it hadn't disgusted me, and thinking about it now gave me a little thrill. Had that been because of me? Had my mere proximity made that happen to him? Had I created that problem for him?
And did that make it mine?
There was a silence now, and this time it did feel awkward. I wasn't sure what to say. Could I afford to reassure him? It felt like a huge step to even bring it up. This was David I was talking to. About his boner. I didn't want him to think I wanted something to do with it.
Did I?
I rolled onto my back as well. The car was dark and it rocked again on its suspension as another blast of icy wind whipped the loose snow into swirls and shapes outside of the long rear windows.
"Do you really think we're in trouble?" I asked.
He sighed. "It's a dangerous situation, Kels," he said. "But I think it'll be fine by tomorrow."
"By noon," I said.
"Maybe even earlier," he said.
I shivered again and scooted over close to him.
"Sorry," I said. "I'm cold. I need to steal some of your warmth."
"You're a heat leech," he said, smiling.
I tugged his hand down next to me, bending his arm at the elbow and pulling it snug with my own arm.
"You're shivering," he said. "This sweater is much too thin."
"We need to get closer," I said. "I appreciate you trying to be a gentleman, but your little general is just going to have to put up with me pressing against you."
"'Little general'?" he said indignantly.
"Well, he's little compared to you," I said.
"He IS me!"
"Look," I said, laughing, "you're six and a half feet tall. I'm not trying to say he's little, I just meant--"
"I guess I pulled back too soon," he said grumpily. "Next time I'll let your hand linger so you can find out how not-little he is."
I laughed in spite of myself, in spite of the crazy situation and how inappropriate his comment really was.
"You want me to touch him? Fine! I'll touch him!"
And before I could stop myself, I found my hand darting over to cup his crotch.
"Oh, wow," I said, before I could stop myself. I couldn't help it. I had struck lucky for a blind grab and gotten his entire penis under my hand. And it was anything but little.
He froze, not moving at all, and I let my hand linger. The moment spun out. We were both holding our breath. I'd never touched a penis before, and I'd wager he'd never had his touched either.
Finally I slid my hand away, unsure of what to do, and the awkward silence returned. It stayed until I shivered again, and he squeezed my arm.
"You're cold," he said. "Let me help."
He rolled onto his side and I turned away from him, biting my lip with anticipation. I knew I was going to feel him again, pressed into my backside, and it filled me with an illicit excitement. That feeling of heat rising within me, a very womanly feeling, returned as I pressed back into him and felt him contact my body with his from head to toe.
I felt his breath on my neck as his broad chest pressed into my back and his thighs came up under me, and even his calves aligned with mine. Then I felt his hardness press against my butt. Even through the thick denim of his jeans, it was prominent, and I couldn't help but gasp the tiniest bit as it pushed against me. His left hand came to rest gently on my left hip, not possessively, but because it needed someplace to go. That hand set off fireworks in my head as my sensitive places began to tingle and report in. I was aware of my nipples inside of my bra, of the fabric of my panties pressing against my vulva in ways I'd never felt before. He was there, behind me, under me, against me, and my body was responding from head to toe.
I took a deep breath and it hitched as my heart rate accelerated. I felt sure that he could feel it backward through my chest, that he would know I was literally turning on for him in a new way that I'd never suspected.
"Is this okay?" he asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
If he had made it a sexual question, had pushed his hips forward even a little in that moment, I think I would have shut it down. Maybe we needed to be close for warmth, but I would never have gone further with it if he had been the least bit suggestive or even playful. The sincerity in his tone, the tenderness in his voice, changed everything.
"Yes," I said, and I did everything I could not to push my hips back into his. I wanted to feel that hardness, it turned out, wanted to see how far it went, and all at once I wondered how thick it was, and what it would feel like if it slid into me. And that thought, that single passing thought awoke a longing too rich for words, a question too deep to deny, and an urgency I'd never felt. I'd never been conscious of how empty I felt, of the need to be filled, and it made me shudder.
"You're still cold," he said, and I almost denied it.
There was another silence then, and this one wasn't awkward at all. It was, to be a bit too direct, positively pregnant.
I made a choice.
"You know," I said, tracing a finger along the patterns of the soft flannel in front of my face. "I've heard that in cases of hypothermia, just getting close in a sleeping bag isn't always enough."
David said nothing, but I could have sworn he wasn't breathing.
"I think I read somewhere that sometimes," I said, consciously taking a breath of my own, trying to steady myself, "the people have to strip down to their underwear."
"I think that's only if you're already freezing," he said, and I could hear his heart beating in his voice. "Like if you fell in a lake or something."
"Oh," I said. "My mistake. I guess we'd better stay dressed then."
And I pushed my hips back into his, moving my booty back and forth the slightest bit.
He stifled a moan that puffed his warm breath through my long brown hair right at the back of my neck.
"No," he said. "I think you're right. There's no such thing as overpreparing in a crisis."
"I'm glad you agree," I said, and I slid my hands down, hooking my thumbs in the waistband of my sweatpants, sliding them off even as I arched my back and pressed my butt against his crotch again. Then I took the bottom of my sweater and my t-shirt between my fingers and pulled them over my head without even sitting up. My hair cascaded out into his face and he pulled back slightly as I tossed my sweater aside, now just in my bra and panties under the cover of the sleeping bag.
"You're a little behind, Tiger," I said after a moment, and he busied himself pulling off his own sweatshirt.
After throwing it aside, he fumbled with his belt for a moment and then pulled his pants down, his struggle more pronounced than mine since he was a good nine inches taller than me. I giggled as he rolled and flopped slightly, finally pulling his thick jeans out over the top of himself and casting them aside by his shirt.
"Warm me up," I said.
The feeling of his bare skin on mine as he moved in was positively electric. Had I thought my body had come alive before? No. That had been a cold start on a brand new engine that had never run before. This was primary ignition on a rocket.
He slid one arm back under my head and snuggled up behind me all at once. The pressure of his erection as it pressed against my butt cheeks this time was like putting a lit match against a gas-soaked rag. The heat that flared inside my loins this time was a fire, and feeling his hard body against my back was just more fuel. I felt my thighs quiver for a few moments, my inner walls clenching hungrily on nothing.
Except I realized that it wasn't on nothing, not really. It was on him, the him I could feel pressing so insistently through the thin fabric of his boxers and my panties. My body was responding, and in that moment I knew that I could satisfy myself just by rolling over. I wouldn't even have to ask him. I could just do whatever I wanted, and he would allow it, more, would welcome it. I could take what I pleased from him without words or definitions or labels. Then we could sleep and I could never mention it again, and a little green voice inside me told me that his sweet, shy nature would allow it. Nothing would have to change.
But then I remembered the way he'd asked his question, in a moment where he could have pushed boundaries. "Is this okay?" he'd asked, and if I'd said no, he would have changed it for me. He would have changed anything for me, just for me, because I wanted it, or needed it. I remembered the way he looked when he told me about the gas. And I thought of all the times he'd made me laugh, given me his coat when I was cold in a debate meeting, and showed up to every single game I'd ever cheered at, even though I knew he didn't care about football or basketball. I remembered all the things he'd done just for me, and I knew I couldn't take anything from him, even if he was willing to give it.
I took his hand from my hip and pulled his arm over me, holding his fingers in mine.
"David," I said softly.
"Yeah," he said at my ear, and I could hear how breathless he was despite the lack of movement in the quiet car.
"It's sort of uncomfortable to wear a bra for sleeping," I said.
"Oh," he said. "I didn't know that."
"Would you mind if I took mine off?"
"No," he said.
"Will you help me?" I asked, gathering my hair from the side and pulling it out of the way.
I felt him pull back just enough to see my bra strap in the dim light. He pulled his right arm back, and I shivered a little as his cold fingertips slipped inside of it. He fumbled for a moment, his fingers trembling, and I felt a surge of affection for him. Then he got the tiny hooks out of the tiny loops and I felt the tension of my bra release.
Feeling wild, feeling naughty, feeling as breathless as he sounded, I pulled my bra forward with one hand and freed my arms. He slid forward again, his erection now familiarly pressing between my butt cheeks. I hummed a little sigh of satisfaction and pulled his arm over me once more.
We lay there for a few minutes, his hot skin pressed to mine, and I felt full-body tingles at the illicit excitement of the situation. Me, topless, with one of my best friends almost naked pressed behind me, far from prying eyes. As a matter of fact, the danger of the situation and any attendant unease could not have been further from my mind. I found myself feeling suddenly shy, nervous about taking things further, though I desperately wanted to. Then I had an idea.
"David," I said softly again.
"Yes?" he said quickly.
"Is it uncomfortable to sleep with your boxers trapping your..." I hesitated for a moment.
"Um," he said. "Yeah, it is."
"Would you prefer to take them off? I wouldn't mind."
I heard his breath physically catch in his throat. He tried to speak, failed, and cleared his throat.
"I could take my panties off," I said. "That way we'd be even."
"Okay, yeah," he said, in a high, breathless voice.
He pulled back and I felt him moving, wrestling behind me to lose his boxers, and I hooked my thumbs in my waistband once more. As my panties slid down my legs, I bumped his side with my bare butt and it felt so freeing. Nothing between us now. I'd feel what his hardness was, now, nothing held back.
When we settled down again, he was once more shy as we came together. I put my hand back to his hip and scooted him closer, gasping aloud when his manhood slid against my butt. It was like nothing I'd imagined. It was hot, it was hard and implacable, it was an intensity I'd never felt. I pulled his hand over me once more, this time placing it directly over my right breast. His rough palm brushed over my nipple before settling down and I gasped again as his fingers found their place encompassing my entire breast. It was a handful for him, but a manageable handful, and suddenly they didn't feel disproportionate at all. They'd just been lacking his hand, that's all. Now they made sense. Now they fit my frame perfectly, because they'd been his all along.
I rolled my hips back unconsciously into his and felt his cock slide slightly down. The movement, the friction, was amazing. My pussy clenched and I realized that nothing but him would satisfy me. Nothing but the incredibly urgent thing pressing against me, his thing, his cock, would be enough. He squeezed my breast, rolling his palm around ever so slightly against my stiff nipple, and a little moan escaped my lips.
"David," I moaned.
"Kelsey," he said, and nosed through my hair to kiss my neck. It sent little bolts of lightning chaining through my whole body. I rolled my hips against him again.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
I couldn't believe it. Even now, he was considering my feelings. My future feelings. He was giving me one more chance to change my mind.
I rolled onto my back and looked up into his eyes.
"It'll change things," he said softly, and I realized he was pleading.
"Maybe it's time things changed," I said.
I pulled his head halfway to mine, lifted my own head, and kissed him. Slowly and meaningfully, I kissed him. Then I pulled back to look at him, and though the light was low, I swear I saw a glassy sheen in his eyes. He smiled, that little smile I'd seen sometimes when I caught him looking at me smiling before he could stop himself. Then he leaned in to kiss me back, and oh, how he kissed me back. It felt to me like he was pouring all of his longing and patience, all of his tender consideration, and all of the muted worship he'd prudently withheld all this time. His thumb brushed my cheek as his lips pressed to mine, and though I could feel his raging erection resting against my bare thigh, there was nothing rushed or even sexual about it. He didn't try to stick his tongue in my mouth or mash my lips to my teeth, he just kissed me and enjoyed every moment of doing so.
It was this holding back, this patience even now, that fully won my heart. I hadn't realized what a small shift it was between friends and lovers, thinking them opposite sides of a wide canyon, but perhaps the canyon is filled with love, and all you need to swim across is a little push.
I reached a hand down and wrapped my fingers around his cock. I couldn't believe how soft the skin was compared to how hard it was underneath. His eyes flew open as I squeezed it experimentally, and it made me smile.
"I want this," I said, as he pulled back from our kiss.
"Me, too," he said simply, and he climbed on top of me.
We fumbled a bit. Of course we did. It was dark, and it was the first for both of us. But what did it matter? We were giddy with it. The only sound besides our breathing was the howl of the wind outside, and what did we care?
I guided him into me, slow and steady. He took just as much care with my maidenhood as he did with the rest of me, and when the pain passed, there was only a blooming heat and deepening pleasure.
"Oh David," I whispered earnestly as he bent to kiss my neck. He was only halfway in by then, but his body was covering mine in the best way. The car no longer felt cold, though I was dimly aware that the air outside of the sleeping bag was passing crisp and headed to outright chilly. Here, between us, it was hot, and the occasional cooling puff of air on my brow felt wonderful.
He stretched me, filled me, satisfied me in every way. We didn't have condoms, and we didn't care. I don't think I would have let him use one if he'd offered. I needed to feel his skin on me, everywhere, and I needed there to be nothing between us. I had started taking the pill a few months earlier--one thing my mother had sprung for on my eighteenth birthday--so I wasn't really worried, anyway. I knew he was a virgin too, we were good enough friends for that, so there wasn't anything to worry about.
He gave me my first orgasm, and when it passed and my back settled down onto the sleeping bag, I could feel that he was about to respectfully pull out. I couldn't bear the thought of being empty, so I grabbed his hips.
"Don't," I said. "Don't ever."
"But," he began, and I put a finger to his lips.
"While you're with me, you're with me," I said. "Don't plan. Just feel. I'm safe, the pill works." I reached down and squeezed his firm buttocks. "Show me what it feels like to be filled up."
"Yes ma'am," he said with his easy smile and settled back in.
My pleasure assured, his hips moved freely now as he gave in to the moment and worked for himself. My own arousal spiked again so quickly that it took my breath away. I had appreciated his slowness and tenderness, and was pleased to discover I could orgasm so easily with him inside me despite the newness of the feelings. He had made love to me, I had known it was happening, and that had slowly built me to a crescendo as he made his way deeper inside of me. But this... this was amazing.
Lights flashed inside my head, new chemicals flooded my bloodstream, and I began to cry out rhythmically with each strike of his hips. Just before I came, he sped up even further, and as he clenched and cried out his own pleasure, I swear I felt him explode deep inside me. I shrieked his name as a second, far more powerful climax tore through my body and I clenched down on his spurting cock.
"David!" I cried, and grabbed him to pull him closer. Every muscle in his body was tense, and cords stood out on his neck as he emptied himself inside me. For a crazy moment I wished that I hadn't started the pill so that this moment could be the one that kindled something new deep in there, that part of him could become a part of me and we could create a new thing together on this night. That moment passed quickly, and I remembered that we were still living with our parents, just a few months in to this new chapter, and that a commitment like that would alter all of my life plans.
But in the moment after that moment, and in the coming days, I wondered if altering all of my life plans was really such a bad idea.
He collapsed onto me and I held him, stroking the short hair on the back of his neck and pressing his cheek to mine. I whispered things in his ear, sweet things, the sorts of things a girl says to the boy who takes her girlhood and makes her a woman, when it's good, and kind, and meaningful.
We laid there for a long time feeling the car shake and move as the sweat on our bodies cooled. I ignored the reality that he would have to withdraw from me, feared the emptiness that would result, and hoped against it as hard as I could.
Some time passed, and maybe I dreamt for a moment, but I only remember that he did try to move, and in that moment I realized he was still hard. Wasn't he supposed to get soft after it was over?
"Don't go," I said.
"I don't want to crush you," he replied.
"You aren't," I said, relishing his comforting weight on me. "Or if you are, I like it."
He smiled, and kissed my cheek. "I like it, too."
"I'm going to need you to do that again," I said.
He kissed my cheek. "Like that?"
I giggled softly. "No, silly," I said. "All of it." I moved my hips up into his and felt his hardness shift in me.
"When?" he asked.
"As soon as you can," I said, and darted my head forward to capture his lips with mine. "As many times as you can."
"Oh, Kelsey," he said, arching an eyebrow. "Do you know what you're asking for?"
I smiled sweetly and shook my head. "No. But I'd like you to show me."
"As you wish," he said, quoting my favorite movie.
And he did.