Literotic asexstories – Loving on the Levee by Rumple Foreskin,Rumple Foreskin
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“What has gotten into you, girl?” Debbie Rankin sat alone in the sporadic shade of a young willow on the bank of the Mississippi River talking to herself. “One minute you’re feeling great, joking with Mike and the other guests—though why anyone would want to have an outdoor wedding in August is still beyond me. Then all of a sudden, it’s like someone turned on all the bad vibes in the world.”
She’d been gazing unseeing at a tanker heading slowly downstream. Now she had to squeeze her eyelids shut to keep from crying. She felt angry and weepy, and incredibly stupid for not knowing why. Propping her head against the tree truck, she tried to come up with an answer.
Mike, her oldest friend and a self-confessed “nice guy” was helping lug wedding stuff back to the cars parked on the other side of the levee while she waited for Linda and Frank to emerge from wherever they were hiding. Recently engaged themselves, they’d slipped off during the “hippie” style ceremony.
“Bullshit not thy own self,” she said, quoting one of Mike’s favorite sayings. The thing was, she had a hunch there was more to her bad mood than just that shit-eating grin on Melinda’s face right after the Chief Boo-Hoo of the Neo-Anthro Church said she and Harvey were husband and wife.
Debbie felt certain the real downer was this spot. Somewhere around here, Mike had kissed her last spring—okay, make that she’d kissed him. But he returned the kiss, thank God. Debbie wasn’t sure her battered ego could have taken another rejection.
She’d felt so incredibly crappy that day. When the guy you’ve been dating for over a year, who you’re pinned to, who always seemed like such a non-demanding gentleman, dumps you for another guy, it can be a little depressing. “Face it Debbie old girl,” she muttered, “for someone who’s supposed to be so damn good looking, you’ve got a lousy track record with guys.”
After she’d talked Mike’s ear off about her latest romantic disaster, he’d arrange a party here on the levee to get her out of the blues. Two days later, three girl friends invaded her room. Saying she’d been in bed all day, which was true, they’d forced her to get up and, ignoring her protests, made her put on some clothes and come with them.
At first she tried to be a good sport and get into the spirit of the party. But the laughter and good times only annoyed her. After a few beers, some cheap wine, and a little weed, she was feeling slightly drunk, maybe a little stoned, but definitely more miserable than ever. Not wanting to be a wet blanket, she grabbed a beer and wandered away.
As the light from the bonfire dimmed, she found a small sanctuary of willows and driftwood near the riverbank. That’s where Mike found her a few minutes later, sitting behind a big log, crying.
Without saying a word, he sat down beside her. There was a light, cool breeze coming off the river. When she shivered, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. With a sob that was a mixture of despair and release, she laid her head on his chest and cried until she ran out of tears.
As her breath began to even out, she noticed the front of his old dress shirt was soaked. Fascinated, she gently ran a fingertip across the damp cloth. He’d come to be with her, to comfort her, and in return she’d drenched his shirt with tears and probably covered it with mascara.
She lifted her head and looked up at him. Even in the dim moonlight, she could make out his familiar, comforting smile and immediately felt better.
He’d always been there, close and caring, whenever she needed a friend, needed a shoulder to cry on, just like tonight. Because, because he loves me. A new emotion suddenly swept over her, a sensation that had nothing to do with friendship. She no longer just needed Mike—she wanted him.
Slipping both hands behind his neck, she pulled his face to hers. Tilting her head, she began kissing her best friend.
When their lips finally parted, they looked at one another. There was an uncertain, questioning expression on Mike’s face. Debbie found herself praying he wouldn’t be sensible or cautious or, even worse, make a joke. Damn it, Mike, just kiss me. Please. Then he slowly leaned forward and began kissing his best friend.
At some point it occurred to her that Mike was a very good kisser. In a strange sort of way, it made her proud to know her best friend was so gifted.
The next time their lips separated, Mike started to say something. It was going to be about how they should stop, she was sure of that, and sure he was right. They’d have to do that, soon, but not now, not just yet. Before he could say anything, she snuggled closer and pulled him back onto her waiting mouth.
After that, the kisses became more intense and the touches more intimate. She felt Mike’s hand slip beneath her sweatshirt. When it made contact with bare skin, she shivered with pleasure. The smooth, sensuous pressure seemed to ease the anguish in her body. His fingers took possession of her breast. The feeling was incredible and she heard herself moan softly while arching her back to meet his touch.
She felt loved and wanted and safe. This was Mike who cared for her, who was always there when she needed a friend, who she could count on to do what was best. And in the back of her mind, she began wondering if he would decide what was best included their making love.
Releasing her throbbing nipple, he slowly slid his fingers down her torso until they reached her jeans. When he started fumbling with the zipper, she was certain he’d decided they would make love. But just when it began to yield, he stopped.
Their tongues continued to dance from mouth to mouth, but Mike’s fingers remained motionless. She felt his big body sag and then noticed that his hand was moving up from her waist. He paused to let his fingertips caress first one breast, then the other. It was a gentle, searching motion, as if trying to memorize their texture, shape, and warmth. After a last, soft, parting touch, he slid his hand around to the small of her back.
With an unsettling mixture of relief and regret, she understood he’d decided their making love wasn’t what was best. The kissing continued, but now it was with increasing affection and decreasing passion. He was, she realized, letting them both gradually come down from their physical and emotional high.
#
Something was gently shaking her shoulder. Confused, she opened her eyes and looked around. Instead of moonlight, the afternoon sun was shining off the river. And instead of Mike caressing her body, he was kneeling beside her and grinning. “You’ve got to tell me what you were dreaming about, lady.”
“None of your business, mister,” she said, while yawning and stretching. To give her mind more time to re-enter the here-and-now, she located her purse, pulled out a compact, and studied her make-up in the small mirror. “Why do you think I was dreaming anyway? Maybe I was just deep in thought.”
“I doubt it. The thing is, before I started my beast of burden number, you looked awake and about like you did back when we were kids and old Jeff, the natural born tomcat, went one-on-one with a log truck and lost. When I finally came dragging my weary bones back, your mouth was wide open. That’s always a sure sign you’ve nodded off, and you had this dumb, happy look on your face. So what were you dreaming about?”
Debbie looked at her best friend and gave him a big, I-know-a-secret-and-you-don’t, smile. “You’re right, I really was feeling rotten. But I had this dream that was all romantic and mushy with lots of heavy breathing, and I feel a lot better now.”
As Mike begged for details, she reached out and let him help her up. She playfully mussed his dark, wavy hair. What she hadn’t mentioned was that the dream did a lot more than just get her out of a bad mood—it had reminded her just how much she’d fallen in love with Mike Floyd, her life-long best friend who, if she had her way, would soon be a whole lot more.
Sure they hadn’t so much as held hands since then and he’d started dating that slut, Rene Landry. Debbie had been trying to break them up all summer, but she’d told herself it was because she despised Rene and knew the little tramp would be so bad for Mike. This was different. Before that dream, she’d wondered if she loved Mike. Now that was no longer an issue.
A classically beautiful redhead with a tall, graceful body, she was sure that if everything else were equal, Rene, although admittedly cute and sexy, would have been no competition. The problem was, everything wasn’t equal. Debbie knew Mike so well, she could practically name the day Rene first let him “seduce” her. And since she was the type who’d put out like a soda machine if it was in her interest, and since she was very interested in hooking up with Mike, he was probably getting all the action he could handle. If Rene hadn’t been out of town this weekend, he might not have even come to the wedding.
Even worse, she might be a homecoming queen, fraternity sweetheart, and all that jazz, but apparently Mike still thought of her as the skinny kid he’d walked with to junior high. Even going skinny-dipping with him earlier this summer didn’t seem to change his view of her. So if she wanted him, the next time they kissed, and she’d make sure that happened soon, there’d be no stopping—she’d also make sure of that.
Debbie looked up and down the shoreline. “Where do you think Linda and Frank are?”
“Out of sight.”
Shaking her head, she walked with Mike over to the sun bleached driftwood log where he’d left their stuff. “Thanks for the help, Joe Friday,” she said, sitting on the smooth, warm wood.
Taking a seat beside her, Mike grinned, “I think of myself more as the suave, sophisticated private eye type.”
“Well, I think of yourself as nuts, and before you say it, I know, birds of a feather flock together.”
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