A few weekends later and it’s a three-day, and I’m at Kyle’s parent’s unsupervised house-turned-club for a party, and it’s about two thirty and I’m moderately drunk, about as drunk as I could get. I didn’t really know Kyle that well, but I guess you’ll like anyone if they supply enough alcohol to make you drunk enough to like them. I wish I could say I was pondering that thought at that very second, but in reality I was just being as dumb as fuck. Dinah was there (Michael told me her name) and she was sitting alone on a couch in the Kyle’s-last-nameses living room, and I was trying to make my suave approach and I was three shots of shitty tequila beyond suave, but there she was.
As I came through the doorway, another guy with his tail between his legs passed me. They had been filtering through here all night for a chance at Dinah, and he was probably headed the way of the rest of them now that he was spurned, to look for a consolation. This was beginning to feel like a sexual tyranny, and I kept seeing images of myself turning around and forgetting about all of this in my head, but I no longer had the restraint to battle my inertia, so on I went, towards Dinah. My mouth opened, “can I get you a d-”
“No.” Brick wall. My momentum disappeared suddenly. “No, thank-you,” she added, then looked up as if to further soften her words. She saw me, smiled, “you’re Michael’s friend.”
I was probably blushing, but my entire body was too hot to tell how my face was holding out. She was smiling so brightly, a dimple catching the shadow on her left cheek. I hope I wasn’t blushing. I was probably blushing.
“Yeah, sorry about…”
“It’s alright. I wasn’t expecting a truck in the hallway.” She smiled sarcastically, then caught herself. “Or… you know.”
“Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” My processor was stuck in an infinite loop.
“No, really. I’m trying to stay away from the alcohol.” I noticed her clothes now, spaghetti-strapped jumper, baby blue, which fit her well, and tan open-toed pumps.
“I’m pretty sure the juice is spiked” I said, glancing at the empty punch glass on the coffee table, “heavily.”
“Oh!” She let her guard down. She looked genuinely horrified, “I was wondering why I felt a little heady, I thought it was the temperature or just a headache or something…” She put her hand to her forehead, looked into my eyes from below it. I was feeling heady as well, from influences other than alcohol.
“Your name’s Dinah, right?” She nodded, still looking at me. “Let’s go outside.” I needed air, my head was light. I didn’t wait for a response, but she followed me out.
And then we’re on the porch. The air was cool, and smelled of potting soil and cigarettes, and Dinah’s fragrance, the humidity was a blanket around us. Dinah looks utterly serene in the moonlight, the emerging redness of her face hidden, and I kiss her. I kiss Dinah in my intoxicated state, having nothing to say, or show, or hide, and she kisses back. I hold her shoulder with one hand and slowly back her to the railing of the porch, resting my other hand behind her for support. Her lips were so vulnerable, ready to be taken, firm, and yet sensually soft against mine. She didn’t know how to kiss, and her eyes were wide with surprise.
She pulls back: “I… I really can’t… or shouldn’t… or-” Her lips were moving with speech, and taunting me, and I draw my mouth in and kiss her harder. She hesitates, but feels wanting, needing. Her mouth was sweet strawberries in mine, I chewed the stems off. Hidden in her eyes was the nostalgic memory of my first elementary crush, and I could see then that it must have been Dinah all along, however impossible that was.
We continue kissing, and I carry her to my car in my arms. I open the door to the back seat, struggling to get both of us through. I can feel Dinah’s arms, her cheeks, I taste her ears and neck, I hold her shoulders. I can hear her soft breath, I draw her tongue out with mine. I memorize every centimeter of her mouth, exploring it several times over, and she finds her way around mine. Her hand is on the back of my head, feeling my curls, mine is on hers, fingertips moving around her scalp. All the while my left hand is slowly tracing, meandering, veering, and retracing it’s way up her ivory leg.
Her hand stops and tenses up around my hair, and she lets out a gasp, her face reddening again as my left hand completes its journey and begins to explore her from under her dress. She moves her hand toward mine, but my fingers slip between her lips, and she’s completely distracted, and grabs onto the armrest on the door behind her head as I discover her further. I stop kissing her now, and my eyes are looking into hers, she’s looking at mine, but beyond. I’m learning her now, my middle finger had found her clit, and I start rubbing it through her cotton panties. She starts moaning, her hand tightening around my forearm, and her breath becomes uneven.
I continue working her, she’s very wet now, and begin to concentrate on my right hand, making sure no part of her goes untouched, working in from the arms, taking her collarbones, feeling her stomach, spiraling my way toward her tits. I begin to move my left hand more rapidly, adding more fingers to the rotation, and her moisture is soaking through her panties onto my fingers. Her shoes fall off of her feet onto the floor, and I notice that we’re fogging up the windows, and there is no-one in this world but the two of us.
My right hand continues, now coaxing the straps off her shoulders, now slipping her dress down her torso. Her bra was white and slightly padded, but she seemed tight against it, constrained. I use my left hand to slide her panties aside, then I set it free. She’s squirming now, her lips are parted and her breath is ragged, her hands tightening on my arm and the armrest. I graze her clit, and she moans uncontrollably. My right hand is tracing the edge of her bra, I slide a finger under here and there mischievously, feeling the muscles and lines of her back then continuing. The clip snapped open, and her bra lost form as she broke free. I knead her tits, so firm, and slightly swollen with pleasure, heaving up and down with her breath. Her nipples are hard and red, about the size of quarters. My ring finger is now exploring inside of her, slipping in and out, and she is biting her lip.
I pull her dress up over her head, and inspect her body. Her legs sloped inward and converged on her pussy, pink and moist, glistening in the moonlight, light hair spreading a short distance outward, still mostly hidden by her white lace-trimmed panties. Her torso and legs were in perfect proportion, and her neck had red marks on it from my kissing. I unfasten my belt, my pants, pull my boxers down. Dinah is looking at me, her eyes unsure and fearful. I slide myself inside of her, and a cry escapes her lips, she’s staring somewhere past the car, into the stars. She was tight and new, and I could feel the texture of her against me as I pushed farther inside of her, as far as I could. She didn’t bleed.
Whimpers escape Dinah’s lips as I plunge into her again and again, she’s looking at me again, and tears are streaming down her cheeks, her hand on my chest. My hands are holding her body, feeling her tits, now dimpled with the cold. And again, I slide my cock inside of her, and I’m grunting now, my breath competing with hers, my hips meeting hers, the car is shaking slightly, and my heart is racing. Then her hand falls from my chest, and her head falls back as I feel her tighten around me, and she is quivering and gasping and I am exploding inside of her and she is mine.
I watch as she puts her dress back on and slips her shoes back onto her feet. And then I drive her home. We dated for that following summer. She was nice, although she never really could give a decent blowjob. She worked with me as a Lifeguard, got a nice tan, she suited me better then. That’s all there is.
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