by Alex Finch
(12/12/01)

I'm lying awake at three a.m.. Little else to do but wait. I could never have her when I wanted her, but now she's here every night. Home from college, which seems to change everything. Hot night. Sweltering night. The humidity nulls any relief my open window can provide. I'm sweating under my single sheet. My watch: two fifty-one, exactly. She'll be here any minute now. I lie down, and dream of old things.

I first saw her running across the fields, a high school girl. Hair dyed green, which caught my eye. She was bubbly, and cute. Short, but supple. Fleshy legs, pale skin. Impish smile, freckles all over. I did not see her all over back then.

Heartbreak is exquisite when you stop to appreciate it. So much emotion rushing through you; it's like what the Tantric would describe as a sustained orgasm, except the energy is not joyful. It's fire, but fire can warm as well as burn. It was better then. Stealing glimpses at her, as we jogged. The whisper-quick exposure of flesh, as the wind picks up. Her breast bouncing in her brown bra. Lacy. But I couldn't touch it. Could barely kiss her. I'd die for her cool lips on mine, because I knew that was all I'd get. Beautiful girl, beautifully chaste. That is what killed us.

But college has changed everything.

A soft rap at my window, and I know it's time. I'm hard already, in spite of myself. I open the window, and pull her in. She stands before me gasping for breath, having run all the way from her house, three miles in the night heat. Her beet-red face grins wildly as she huffs in air, her chest pounding with exertion. She's dressed in flannel pajama shorts and a matching button-down shirt. The shirt is too big, so it seems she's only wearing the top. She's wearing white sneakers and white knee socks with blue rims kissing the flushed skin of her calves. Moving close to her, I can smell her; coconut body lotion, mixed with feminine sweat. It turns me on more than usual.

"Best time ever," she whispers between breaths.

"You're too good," I respond, smiling vaguely.

"Hey, I can move when I've got something to run for. All ready?"

"Yeah...you think we could..." I begin. She's already pulling up my shirt.

"Could what? I love how we do it now." Her inflection is that of a school-girl, happy to get her way. "C'mon, blowup doll. You love it, too."

She's right, of course. I love it. Hell, I dream about it, and I get it every night. I hesitate, my bare chest now exposed. She sits down on my bed, and crosses her legs.

"Take it off...lemme see it." Her eyes light up with anticipation.

I pull off my pants, revealing my erect dick and the rest of me too. Pre-come is already sparkling at the tip.

"Mmmm...I love it. Now clean me up," she says, shutting her eyes. I caress her cheek with my fingers. "Come on!" she whines, jiggling her whole body. I kiss the tip of her nose.

The shoes are the first to go. I untie them slowly, and pull them off one at a time. Her socks are damp with sweat. They feel so soft in my hands, though, and she moans audibly for the first time as I rub her feet, slow caresses from the tips of her toes to the balls of her heels. She rubs her right foot over my naked skin as I concentrate on the left. The cotton wetness warms me as it passes up and down my chest, and around my thighs. I grab it, and massage my dick for a while. She gets the picture and envelops my penis between both her feet, rubbing up and down. I lean back and kiss her knees as she works, and move my hands up her legs. My fingertips dance inside the leg of her shorts, and I tease the rim of her panties, still hidden from me. I stand.

Her eyes are still shut, and I bend low to kiss her eyelids. My kisses travel down her face, catching the side of her lips. She does not respond. I unfasten the bottom few buttons of her shirt, and push aside the soft material. I kiss the bare flesh of her stomach, and roll my tongue into her navel. She's getting hotter, starting to sweat again. She wraps her legs around my back. I unbutton the rest of her shirt, and brush it away from her body. I kiss her breasts, under her rust-colored bra. My kisses, increasingly frantic, cover her chest. The pressure rises in my dick, in my stomach, as I lick her neck. I kiss her mouth. She does not try to kiss back. She's caught up in the moment, in her Zen-like state of immersion. My cock pushes between her warm thighs, grinding against the soft fabric of her shorts. I pull her to her feet, and the shorts fall to the ground. Her panties match her bra, and cling perfectly to her ass. Her musky scent is stronger now, and her pussy is wet with need.

Need.

I stop, and push her away. She falls onto the bed and sits up, eyes wide with curious anger.

"Hey! What the hell's the matter with you?"

"I...I'm really not sure. I don't like this any more. It...it's..."

"What?" She still looks wonderful just sitting there in her underwear, panties just barely visible between her crossed legs. "Why...I...I know you like it..."

"I do, I do like it, but...shit, why don't you...respond to me? Huh? Why don't you touch me at all?"

"I touch you, silly..."

"Yeah, but you don't take the initiative at all. You sit there and accept everything. Why?"

She looks at me, honestly not understanding. "Because you like it this way. And I always enjoy it, too. Are we in love?"

I'm caught off-guard by her question. "What...why do you say..."

"Are we in love? Answer my question. I run over here every night and we fuck our brains out, and why do we do it? Are we in love?"

"No...I don't think we are."

"Fine. Then I should enjoy fucking for what it is. Right?"

"But..."

"And all you've ever wanted to do is fuck me. That's why we broke up in high school." Her fire. Her fire is rising. "I didn't want to have sex with you then and now you're getting exactly what you want. You can please me. You can sweep me right off my feet and take me directly to the point of no goddamn return just like you always wanted. And I like it."

"Then why don't you respond to anything? Why don't you try to make me feel good, too?"

"Because I like to just sit here and accept things as they happen. I like to be fucked. You like to fuck. That's why I come here. We complete each other." She licks at the sweat on her lips. Seconds ago those lips were mine to caress. I keep thinking about that as she talks. And maybe that means something...

"I think you're being selfish."

"I'm maximizing my pleasure. We're not in love, so we're having sex for pleasure, right? And I'm not having sex with anyone else, because I know you. You like to please. That's sweet, and I need that."

"Well, I need to accept pleasure too sometimes. I want to be on top, so to speak, for once. I want to try it that way."

She looks into my eyes, through them, and into my mind. She nods, tentatively, and hops to her feet. Unsmiling, she kisses my lips softly, a baby's kiss. She puts her arm around my waist and whispers, "C'mon, then. I'll do this once."

And we walk out of my stuffy room, me completely nude, and she clad only in her bra, panties, and socks. We walk to my front door, open it quietly, and slip outside. My pulse quickens as I realize with a start that I am outside, away from the privacy and safety of the house, exposed and defenseless. And at the same time, I'm liberated, with the breeze cooling my skin, a sensual caress on my still-aroused penis. We walk carefully, our feet bare on the pebbled road.

"Who's that girl you used to tell me about?" she asks.

"What girl?"

"The one you liked to watch...you know...in the bushes."

"Oh. Kirsty."

"Yeah. I used to think you were such a perv. Look who's talking, huh?"

We chuckle together, and her arm around my waist squeezes a little tighter. But I look down at her face, and the smile that should be there has already faded. Total seriousness marks her next question.

"She lives around here, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Let's go."

Kirsty lived in a large house on my street, a ranch home with large picture windows. One of which provided an excellent portal into her room. She rarely drew the shades, and I had spent many a night creeping near the window, waiting for her to come home (from a long night of partying usually) and drunkenly strip off most, and on glorious nights all, of her clothing. She was my placebo. I knew the way into her yard by heart.

"I haven't done this in a while," I began.

"You remember."

I'm thrilled beneath my fear, trembling with anticipation, as we approach Kirsty's window. As always, the shade is not drawn. The two of us draw close and press ourselves against the glass for a close look. Moonlight licks the room inside.

Kirsty is asleep in her bed, arrayed in all her glory, a single, silk blanket draped across her left leg. She is gorgeous, with curly brown hair strewn about on her pillow, skin of deep olive, smooth and tempting. Her breasts are huge, barely contained by a hot pink bra, and her chest swells with each slow breath. The careless sheet reveals her right hip and a glimpse of lemon-drop yellow thong. My dick is pressing erect against the glass, pointing skyward. As I back away, I notice a glistening strand of pre-come that extends from my cock to the window.

"Why are...we...why are we doing this?" I stammer.

"Shh." She's behind me now. "Don't think about me." Her hand explores the crack of my ass, and then her fingertips slowly ascend my back. "The worst thing you can do now is think of me. Help me if you want, but try not to respond directly to me. Think about her."

Her hands dance up my chest, in motions quick then slow, her hands seeming to work in unison with the wind. My body heats again even as the cooling breeze moves over me, and the contrast is marvelous. I decide to follow her orders and look forward. I watch Kirsty breathe. I concentrate. Kirsty's nipples are hard under her bra. Her chest heaves in a great yawn, and I feel my girl's tongue on my back. She licks me softly, up and down, and my breath quickens. I close my eyes and imagine. I see Kirsty standing before me. She smiles and removes her...no, no, she rips off her pink bra. Her breasts bounce free. Always smiling, she licks the palms of her hands oh so slowly. I can feel...I can feel her in front of me now, her tongue on my thighs, her rust-brown bra rubbing against my knees. I concentrate more on my vision of Kirsty. Her hands are wet with saliva now, and she massages those incredible breasts, pinching large russet nipples, her expression ecstatic. My mind's eye journeys downward, and her legs are spread so wide, so wide, that blinding yellow thong tight, outlining her pussy, wetness dampening the fabric that covers her. I see...I...

She's in my mouth. My arms instinctively reach out, squeezing her as she kisses me, deeply. I am obedient and do not respond as her tongue explores the contours of my mouth. I absorb her power, her lust, and her need to please me. I open my eyes at last, looking down at her, and notice for the first time that her small breasts are scrunched against me. She kisses my neck.

"No looking," she whines between kisses, that school-girl lilt in her voice again. She pauses, reaches down, and snatches off a sock. Then she's behind me again, and swiftly places this over my eyes, knotting it behind my head. I can see nothing at all. She guides me to sit on Kirsty's windowsill. And does nothing. I keep dreaming anyway. She's running through those endless green fields, her underthings visible through her school uniform. She's that unattainable goal, my Holy Grail. The glass presses cold against my back. I feel her on me now. Her knees on my lap, her body twisting, and her legs are suddenly around my neck. She's upside down on me, her breasts soft against my chest, those tiny globes of flesh. And in a glorious single movement, she takes my whole penis into her mouth. Her body writhes and curls around me as she sucks. I smell her musk, feel her thighs and the wet fabric of her panties against my mouth. I'm intoxicated by her, enveloped by her. I breathe her in, my senses filled by her sex.

I don't come. I can't come. I should have come minutes ago, but I'm too drunk on her, on this pleasure. And still she continues, furiously sucking my cock, and long minutes pass. My face is sticky with her arousal. Finally she rolls off of me, back on her feet. She pulls the blindfold way, and I see her face, reddened by the exertion of the past minutes. I am stunned by how hard she has worked.

"Turn around," she orders.

I comply, facing the window again. Inside, Kirsty has rolled over in her sleep. Her amazing, plump ass totally exposed, accentuated by a mere touch of glowing yellow. I devour the flawless lines of her body. She moves in front of me, her panties now gone. She stands on the window sill in front of me, her ass pressed against the glass, her shaved pussy open and waiting. I move forward, and she mounts me, like climbing onto a horse.

It all hits me at once, the precariousness of this act. We are two young people, barely out of our teens. We are standing in a yard. We are fucking, standing up, in front of a window. In full view of the street. Anyone can walk by and see us. But I don't care. I don't care at all. I'm alive, so alive that I'm sure I must die at any moment. I don't fuck her; she rolls and bounces for me. I am the only person in the world.

Only. Only.

I come without a sound, as no sound could complete the moment. I don't breathe. Detached, in some other universe perhaps, I feel tears streaming down my face.

And in an instant, I am back to reality.

I carefully lift her off me, and hug her. I am relieved when she hugs back, and plants a kiss on my chest. We leave her panties and her sock behind, and stumble, tired and mostly naked, back to my house.

Back to my bed. I sit, exhausted.

"So...how was it?" she asks, pulling her pajamas back on.

"That was, without doubt, the single greatest experience of my life."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

An awkward silence.

"You know," she says, "I can't come here anymore."

I recoil. "Why? Wasn't it good enough...I mean..."

"No. Because you liked it. Just as I liked it my first time. Now you can't be giving like you were before."

"But..."

"I'm sorry. But you know how good it is now when someone gives you everything. I need someone who can give without demanding that of me."

She is starting to crawl through the window.

"I...I think I can still do that. I can try." I grasp for words. "Because...I'm the same way. I can't give to anyone like I gave to you."

Silence.

Her lips move. Nothing comes out. They move again.

"Maybe."

And she's out the window and running.

I lay back on my bed, so tired. I think I feel tears, different from the tears before, welling up, but they won't fall.

Maybe she'll be back. I need her back.

Sugar baby.

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