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Her head is on his lap, her body curled up on the sofa. She uses his denim clad thighs as a pillow. She drifts between sleep and drowsy awareness.

They are with his friends, watching a movie, talking and joking. He didn’t want to go to bed. She was tired and more than a little disappointed. She hadn’t spent the whole night with him since they started. She was so eager but he lingers with his friends.

So she disconnected from them and pillowed her head on his knees, hoping he’d get the hint. She was convincing enough that she unintentionally fell asleep.

She stirs a bit but doesn’t want to move, she’s too sleepy. Impressions come at her through the haze. The boys banter back and forth, catchwords and stories. Memories she doesn’t share.

She warms as his hand keeps returning to stroke her long dirty blonde hair. His short blunt fingers caress her cheek tenderly, like she’s his charm. She can smell the nicotine on them; familiar and a comfort. Snatches of their conversation mingled with the movie dialogue come through, incomprehensible to her in her drowsy state.

He gets up, easing her off of him and goes out with the others. They must have gone to the garage for a smoke. She opens her eyes and watches a little of the movie. Something about gangs. They all love it, it’s an old favorite. In a few minutes they return.

“Amy,” His voice is proud and possessive. His bright blue grey eyes sparkle at her. He might as well have said “Mine.”

“Hi honey,” she murmurs back, smiling up at him.

“You want to go to bed?”

“Yeah.” Drowsy, she really does.

“The stuff’s downstairs. Greg’s not sleeping here tonight, so you can take his spot. Have a good time.” Pat breaks in, leering. He doesn’t like her but he’s happy his buddy’s getting laid. She’s never liked him either. Oh well, they can be polite. It seems to be enough.

Mark holds out his hands to lift her off of the couch. He leads her downstairs. There’s a rusty old sofa bed and some sleeping bags tucked in the corner. It’s not an inviting option. Together they strip the sofa of cushions and make a nest for themselves canlı bahis şirketleri on the floor with the sleeping bags.

This isn’t the first time but so far it’s been clumsy, awkward. They’ve muddled through, she taking the lead. Without someone directing her (as in the past) she’s been hurrying to get it over with. To be free of the self consciousness of it.

They quickly undress, sneaking furtive glances at one another. She’s seen him unclothed before, close up. He doesn’t hide but he doesn’t make a show of himself either. His build is average, as tall as she. She is still not used to being with a boy her own age, 18. She’s always preferred older men. She is still learning how to be with him.

Mark always tries to get a better look at her but she hides from him. He usually tells her not to be ridiculous, that she is beautiful but she can’t believe him. Her small, firm breasts are a source of shame. She wishes she was more voluptuous like her friends. They say they wish they were slim like her. She guesses no one is ever satisfied with their own body.

They get under the covers, lying on their sides, facing one another. His hands encircle her waist and she traces the contours of his body with her fingers. His skin is soft, his body compact.

This is the first time they’ve shared a bed for sleeping since that first night. She hopes it will be like that again. She moves in to kiss him and at the same time reaches for him. Softly, he pushes her hand away.

“Don’t rush.” he says, smiling at her.

Mark is so odd. She’s not used to someone who doesn’t want to be taken care of. He’s let her before but apparently he’s not been satisfied either.

“I don’t know what you want.” She’s upset and at a loss.

“Yes you do,” he says, “You just don’t have to rush. What about you? What do you want?”

“I want you to be happy with me.” she answers.

“I am.”

He holds both her hands and kisses her slowly. They leave it that way for a time. It’s delicious. He curves his arm around her middle and pulls her closer. Her hand is on the back of his neck, fingers canlı kaçak iddaa brushing his long blonde hair.

His free hand moves gradually from her hip and up her side. For a moment his thumb toys with her nipple, playful and light. His hand continues to roam across her, all over. He reads the rounded places of her body with his fingers, exploring her: backside, belly, breasts, thighs, hips; every place that usually gets ignored.

She moves her head to the side and pulls in, nuzzling him. She begins kissing the side of his neck, his ear, his cheek. She mirrors his deliberate pace, adoring him with her lips.

His hands remain tantalizingly out of reach. They’ll move to within millimeters of her sex and then glance away, up to the small of her back or down to her knees. She’s close to squirming, it’s making her crazy.

She reaches out for him again and this time he doesn’t stop her. The outer layer of skin is so smooth and soft slipping through her fingers, contrasting with how hard he’s become. She strokes him, gently, her fingers echoes of his feather light touch. As she does he finally touches her where she’s needed him to so badly. She’s so close that she’s coming almost at the moment of his touch. He continues anyway and she twists away, it’s too much.

“Are you alright?” he stops abruptly, sitting up, pulling away from her, His face uncharacteristically worried.

“I’m wonderful, I just need a second,” Smiling up at him.

“Oh.” Understanding and self-satisfaction replace the concern on his face.

He relaxes and lies back down. Once he does she descends upon him, hungry and wanting to make him feel the same way he just made her feel. She takes him in her mouth, it’s the first time she’s done so.

His body language is surprised but he makes no move to stop her. She licks him like he was an ice cream cone, savoring him. She brushes him up and down and around with broad strokes of her tongue. He’s panting and moaning, he’s not himself at all. The control is gone. Good, she thinks.

“Stop.” He breathes it out.

“Why?” She’s stopped but her face stays canlı kaçak bahis close to him.

“Not yet.”

“You sure?” she says, playfully, giving him one last long lick.

He lets out a gutteral sound halfway between laughter and agony. He pulls her up to him and kisses her. He’s no longer slow, he’s fast and hard and greedy about it. It’s like he’s eating her up. She loves it.

Not stopping, he flips her on her back and shoves himself up into her. She breaks the kiss and tosses her head backwards, uttering a little shriek. His lips are on her neck and ear, licking, sucking, biting.

He slams all the way into her, again and again. It feels so good. With both hands she pulls him into her, wanting all of him. Arching her pelvis up she locks her legs around his waist, pushing right back into him. It is fierce and amazing and goes on till she’s had her fill of him. When he breaks inside of her they are both breathless.

She loosens the grip her legs have around his waist and waits for him to leave her but he doesn’t. He looks down at her, adoring. He brushes the tumbled hair from her face and doesn’t say a word, although it looks as though he wants to.

“What?” she asks, her voice soft and breathy.

“I wish I could tell you how much I love you.”

He means it. He’d never say such a dopey thing before without both of them laughing at it, but he means it and it’s not a joke.

She feels so real, so alive when he says it. His eyes are honest and full of his love. She feels blasted by it, completely overtaken.

“I love you! I’ve never been this happy before. Never.” The words tumble out of her without thought or hesitation.

He kisses her again, still hungry though they’ve finished. His arms crush her to him for a moment and then he pulls back again to look at her.

“All mine?”

“No one else’s”

“Always.”

“Always.”

“I love you, Amy.”

“I love you, too Mark.”

He withdraws from her and settles back by her side. He grasps her in his arms, still eager, still strong. He holds her and kisses her all over her face, her hair. Sweetly now, less urgent.

They spend the rest of the night talking, mostly about nonsense but it doesn’t seem to matter. They laugh at their own chatter. They can’t stop touching. They can’t stop kissing. They can’t stop talking. She is his, always.

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