A Story of You #9 The Kiss

Contest entry number nine by SweetSpiced…

9. The Kiss

My shyness was crippling. I mean I knew all the people I was with, I just wasn’t as sure of myself as they were. Here I was, a theater geek, but the backstage kind. These were all the people who had the confidence to get up on stage; to audtion. And it was an overnight! With everyone camping out on the floor. I could see them all, tucked into their sleeping bags, many already asleep. How could I sleep? Right next to me was HIM. He was funny, smart, popular – at least with this crowd.

Me, I adored the way his hair fell across his forhead when he laughed.  He stirred up in me all these odd feelings. I heard him stir next to me. Was he scooting his bag closer?? He was.  “Breathe”, I told myself. “Just keep breathing.” Looking back, I don’t have a clue what we spoke of. I remembered whispered conversation as we tried to keep the others snoring around us from waking up. I remember how he kept moving, turning toward me, reaching out and touching my arms with a soft caress.

I was so nervous. I’d never really been like this with anyone. High school was still such a mystery to me, and my shyness made me keep my head down and my nose in book. I knew the library, not boys. But even I couldn’t mistake his intentions as he touched me, teasing my nerve endings. He was definitely much more experienced than I with these butterfly feelings.  When he leaned forward finally, to touch his lips with mine, I was overwhelmed with sensations.  My eyes closed, feeling warm lips touching mine, feeling the tingling that ran through my body.

I had no ability to object when his hand slid my covers down, felt his fingers fumbling with my shirt. The moist wetness of his mouth was against mine, his tongue teasing mine, enticing it to come out and play. My breasts felt heavy, and I could feel the warmth between my legs. I felt trapped by the covers, wanting to be closer to him, yet not understanding anything. I mean, I KNEW what it was, I’d read naughty books, touched myself. But this was HIM. This was a boy, holding me.

When his hand slid in my bra, I was awash again with new sensations. It felt nothing like when I touched myself. His fingers slid over my hard nipples, squeezing them.  The kiss grew wilder, more intense, more of a clashing of mouths. I wanted more, so I reached for him, wanted to feel what it was that made us so different. His hands blocked me at the same time someone coughed. We both stilled, hoping no one heard us.  Sighing, he eased away from me, as voices called across the room.

I leaned back in my sleeping bag, knowing I’d never get to sleep now. My lips still tingled from the kiss and I could taste him. If I slid my hands down I would find myself wet. I knew that even that slight motion would be visible to anyone else.I sighed, and closed my eyes, imagining he was still there, touching me.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.