|
I Risk Death before/after
So I ended up talking to Lydia thursday, (I missed a phone call of hers, message not relayed, and she was cool about it.), and we agreed we wanted to see each other this weekend.
A friend of hers wanted to go on a hike up a mountain, so the plan was for me to head down friday, and she would come up saturday after the hike.
Her directions to her dorm were positively horrible. Thank God for mapquest.
And I made it down, fighting traffic, taking a secondary state highway that weaves along the front range and the prarie. A rainbow arched along side of the road. I took it to be a good omen.
I made it down, and had to finegale my way into her dorm, as I forgot that dorms lock after a certain point.
Made it up to her room, and started kissing her as soon as possible. She's very open to my advances, whenever. I like that. A little more fooling around and we left.
Drove around aimlessly looking for a place to eat dinner. She doesn't know the town very well at all.
Find this one place, and end up eating in the basement, which was allright with me, and her also because it was her idea, since it was quiet and we could talk. Never a lag in our conversation.
She was thrilled that her fake ID worked, and started slugging down the vanilla vodka and something drinks.
"My parents don't drink, ever, because they say there is a history of alcoholisim in the family," she said, whacking down more vodka, "But I don't see it."
Not that I think that anyone who drinks faster than me is an alkie, or anything. I am a slow drinker anymore, and only consume a fraction of what I'm able or have in the past.
(I used to drink by the fifth, and cap it off with a few beers. Now, three beers is usually the limit. Sometimes less. Very rarely-four. This, 4 beers, is what I used to top off a fifth of gin, vodka, or Jack Daniels. Sometimes canadian mist. Or Canadian Club. Ahh, old devil alcohol. I was so sure so much lay at the bottom of every bottle.)
And not to say she's a junior alcoholic. Not at all. She doesn't smoke, hardly drinks, and doesn't do drugs.
Crazy, I know.
She's just young and impressed with the novelty of ordering drinks.
We sat and talked for a long time. She smoked my ciggarrettes at an accelerating pace. She doesn't even smoke, and it shows. The way she lights it, holds it, and inhales. All amatuer. I think she does it out of the same mentality of someone who eats onions together on a date. I don't eat onions, but I am aware of the syncopation. As in : 'I'll eat onions if you will.' as an exchange between a couple.
Except in this instance its more along the lines of : 'I will ingest flaming carcinogens if you will'
We walked and talked, and I talked my way into her room. I think she wanted me there, she just hadn't made the decision yet.
On the ride back to her place, I played a CD album that I had made. Some songs my brother and I recorded for my Dad. I played the best one, and its a nice slow song about a girl.
Made it back to her dorm, and we're all smiles.
She popped in a DVD of 'Reality Bites' and went and put on some pajamas.
Small room, I made myself comfortable on the bed.
She came out and we started kissing. I quickly pulled off her pants and panties, that one delisciously vulnerable moment, and noticed that she had shaved all of her pubic hair off.
"I shaved it for you." She said,"Do you like it?"
I sat in what must have been stunned silence. The second time we see each other, and she's already doing things for me. How indescribably sweet. Add to that, the fact that I adore bald pussy, and maybe I waited a moment too long.
"Y'know," She said,"Not to make me seem any younger or anything."
"No, no, not at all. I like it. I really like it." I said, and proceeded to prove it so.
Let me just say, that she tastes so damn good. Have I said that before? She tastes SO DAMN GOOD.
I got naked, and got her completely naked quickly. All of the naked soft skin on skin is so exciting.
We did sixty nine for awhile, as well as mutual masturbation. She still won't have sex for me, and in a way, this is excruciating.
She'll stroke me, and have my cock poised right outside her labia. I feel them brush against my glans.
"Oh, I shouldn't do that," she said "I so want to have sex with you."
I have to wonder if its some control or power trip. Every so often, she'll leave me poised to fuck the hell out of her, but there is a look and a body posture that tells me this is not the thing to do. More of a slumping of her resolve, or a surrender. Something. Passivity.
And I so want to take her. But I don't.
Its simple cues, really. To me, non-verbal cues that make all the difference. And these cues seem to say, 'My resolve is broke and I'll let you' versus 'Take me now, I want your cock rudely'. Its a look. A touch. An explicit permission that goes unspoken. And its just not there.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe its in my head. But when its discussed, she repeats the same postition.
"I want to be able to count my partners on one hand." She said. She's had three. THREE. Are you kidding? "And there was a time when I didn't wait, and I regretted it."
Okay.
"Besides, you don't know. I could have AIDS. You don't know. I mean, is that something you're comfortable with? Death? Is that something you're willing to risk? Death? "
"For you?" I said, "Yes."
We fooled around some more. I made her cum a couple of times, she made me cum once. Maybe twice. I forget.
I went home, thinking about her on the drive back, happy that I could make someone else happy, even if for only this breif moment in time.
Happy to have someone to appreciate me.
Mostly just happy.
|
