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You are here: Home / Adult sex stories / Memoirs of a 90s Girl Ch. 02

Memoirs of a 90s Girl Ch. 02

JM_Saint_EtienneJM_Saint_Etienne August 29, 2023 Leave a Comment

“Why did we run again?” I managed to ask between heaving breaths. I had barely finished my question when a huge thunderclap rang through the sky causing me to jump. The force of it reverberated through the ground underneath my seat. With the storm finally here, the temperature dropped and a chill suddenly traveled down my whole body. I looked up to Jon who loomed over me with his side leaning against the wall. He looked absolutely smug.

“That’s why we ran,” he smirked, pointing upwards. “We just made it before getting too wet in the rain.” His eyes travelled down and fixed on my pebbled nipples that were straining against the thin white fabric, then down my torso, sweeping along my parted legs left exposed beyond the skirt. I looked down and saw that my top was stuck to my skin where drops of rain had landed, creating spots of transparency here and there. I could feel water travel from my hair onto my collarbone, then down the modest crevice between my breasts where Jon’s gaze now rested.

Having caught himself staring, he averted his eyes and slid down to sit next to me. The low ceiling and sparse lighting of the basement level accentuated his size and height, leaving me feeling absolutely tiny next to him. He was so easy to be around, making sure to never take up too much room, always so kind. I suddenly realized how truly big Jon was. I curled in on myself, hugging my knees, shivering even more now. Jon huddled against me with his chin on my shoulder and rubbed my bare arms up and down to create more warmth. His hands were giant against me, but they were so soft and warm. He must not have worked a day in his life. Unlike his, my hands had rough spots from working long shifts at the family restaurant. It made me wonder if he was well off and how a boy like him ended up at Fountain Park and with the likes of Calvin.

“Thank you,” I shivered.

“Yeah, no problem. You’re cold,” he said softly against my cheek. The comfort of it all lulled me into a sense of calm. The temperature continued to drop as the storm raged above us. The cement was starting to sweat from the cool air. I could hear the faint sounds of heavy rain and thunder overhead. I scooted myself even closer into Jon’s embrace. He smelled like rain and the masculine scent of a man with barely a whiff of smoke clinging to his clothes and his earthy cologne. I had no idea how old he was, where he was from, or even his last name. All I knew was that he made me so comfortable and so calm when he was near. I closed my eyes to bask in the stillness of his touch. Jon tucking loose strands of hair behind my ear felt like the most natural thing in the world after a week of hanging out with him. A content sigh escaped my mouth and I leaned more into his arms. “Let’s see if we can get you warmed up here,” he continued, again filling up the silence, large strong hands still working to warm my arms.

I took one long breath and let all the air out of my lungs before pulling away. His arms resisted, but only for a moment, before letting me go. We both turned so that we were sat side-by-side with arms pressed up against each other. His body was radiating so much heat, I thought for a moment that maybe I should just go back into his arms. Instead, I rested my head on my knees and sighed once more, wondering how long we would be stuck here in the lowest level of the parking ramp. The tornado siren had ceased at some point and it was absolutely quiet in the underground level besides our breathing and the distant surge of the storm. I supposed no one would be coming to get their cars in this weather. Jon suddenly sat up upright and unbuttoned his oversized shirt to slip it off his shoulders, motioning me to take it. The shirt was warm in my hand, having been heated up by his body. I blushed at the thought. It was so large, I struggled to find the collar and the sleeves.

“Here, let me help,” he chuckled and offered, quickly finding the two holes for my arms.

Embarrassed, I whispered my thanks and quickly turned away from him to lean back against the wall again. I basked in the smell and the warmth of him and curled my knees to tuck them and my legs into the shirt. Jon stayed looking at me for a bit, before leaning back into the wall too, not at all flinching at the coldness of cement despite having only a thin tee shirt left. I snuck a peek at him. He rested his corded forearm on the one bent knee, head leant back with his eyes closed. My eyes trailed the rain drops as they traveled along the contours of his throat down to the collar of his shirt. His chest rose and fell with each breath. Alone in this calm quiet, I finally took the time to really look at Jon. He was boyishly handsome and was probably around the same age as me if I had to guess. If anything, he was only slightly older. Curls were returning to the now damp blonde strands that framed either side of his strong jaw. I was surprised by the defined muscles hiding underneath his oversized clothing. The shape of his athletic legs was more visible now that his loose denim pants were slightly damp and clinging to his skin. Long lashes hid his bright blue eyes that I knew were kind. I traced my eyes along his skinny nose down to his flushed cheeks and the pink lips he was wetting with his even pinker tongue.

Suddenly he became very still. I could see his eyes move towards me under the lids. “Are you looking at me?” his brow arched in question. “I can feel it.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. Sorry. I never really looked at you before,” I laughed to myself, then stammered,” I know that’s weird to say cuz we’ve been hanging out….” What a stupid thing to say, but now I can’t seem to stop the words that kept coming out of my mouth, “Sorry, I know that’s like totally a weird…..sorry that’s so w-”

“It’s fine. I like you looking at me. You can look at me,” Jon interrupted me before I could embarrass myself any further, his face breaking into a small smile.

“Ok,” I replied with a voice so small I surprised myself. With his permission, my gaze continued to explore his whole body for the first time. Next thing I knew, my fingertips were softly stroking the fine hairs on his forearm, watching small bumps rise where our skin had made contact. Jon sighed and tilted his head forward to rest his temple on his arm. We were now facing each other, though his eyes remained closed.

“Is this ok?” I asked belatedly, my fingertips still stroking his skin. Jon hummed and nodded in reply.

Emboldened by his willingness to let me touch him, my fingers travelled along his arm down to the bracelets on his wrists, then back up to his shoulders, drawing along his neck up behind his ears and into the hair I had been longing to touch for the last few days. His hair was soft and slipped easily between my exploring fingers. In the distance, I could hear the screeching of car tires as they struggled to make tight turns on the ramps.

“Mmmm, that feels really nice,” he hummed into the crook of his arm.

“Yeah?” Jon must have heard the smile in my voice because I saw his mouth move to do the same.

“Yeah. I like it.” His voice was small and surprisingly shy, eyes still closed and hidden from me.

“Good. I like touching you,” I whispered back as I gently scratched his scalp with my fingernails and saw him sink further into relaxation. Jon turned his head so that his forehead rested against his arm, giving me more access to his hair. I continued my cartographic exploration, lightly scratching his neck and scalp. His jaw moved and I heard a muffle of something I couldn’t quite make out. I leaned in, trying to listen, but had just missed what he said. “Hmm?” I asked quietly, not wanting to disturb whatever it was that was happening between us.

Jon took a moment and a deep breath to seemingly gather himself. His bravery didn’t extend to him opening his eyes though, because even though he turned to face me, his eyes remained closed when he said, barely louder than before, but more clearly, “Can I kiss you?”

Now it was my turn to gather myself. I stopped my hands but they remained tangled in his hair. The silence between us strummed with anticipation, but I couldn’t find my voice or the words to answer him, so I just nodded.

He opened one eye slowly to look at me, the other still hidden, and asked again, “Is it alright if I kiss you? I really want to kiss you right now.”

The quiet manner of his question and the absolute silence that followed betrayed his nervousness. He wasn’t filling the space with sounds like he usually did when we were at Fountain Park. In the stillness that stretched between us his whispered desire rang loud in my ears but all I could hear were the rapid thumps of my own heartbeat.

My brain involuntarily pulled my kiss with Calvin from my memory, the speed of how fast things moved with him, and how the thought of asking for permission never as much as occurred to him. He gave me no time to think. Calvin just took and I found myself giving into him willingly and suddenly. The force which was Calvin was so glaringly different from Jon’s energy. Jon was gentle. He was kind. And he was asking. His pleading look made me want to give him everything. There was no turmoil, no conflict in my saying yes. Yet the word never left my mouth. I sat there stunned, thoughts still on Calvin and his warm hand firmly and confidently holding me in place so he could kiss me harder, so he could do what pleased him while the other hand locked into my hair at the nape. It made me feel like an offering, something precious being proffered to a powerful being. I could still feel the simultaneous heat and shiver that ran down my body, emanating from him. The twin flames of want and fear that left me heaving. Wetness pooled in the gusset of my panties at the memory. What would Calvin do if he were to find Jon and I locked in a kiss? Would he be mad? And why does it matter anyways? Calvin was still a stranger to me while Jon had become a friend, someone whose company I truly enjoyed. Calvin and I hadn’t even spoken again since the day we met.

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