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I gently awoke to her silhouette. She was looking at
my crotch, stroking my cock lovingly through my
boxer shorts. She'd aroused me in my sleep, and
despite the fog of waking the bulge in my
underwear betrayed anticipation.
She'd been out late with some friends, and I had
already gone to bed. For some reason, while it was
permitted for us to have sex in her bedroom, I was
obligated to spend the night on a couch in the
basement.
She knelt on the hard floor next to the couch and
leaned over me with her head tilting slightly to one
side. Moonlight leapt down the stairs and wrapped
her hair in a soft white haze.
In the cool light, her skin kept a pale, powdered
regality while her expression revealed pure
adoration. Her gaze swept slowly up to my face
and she was startled to find me awake.
Her smile grew from wistful reverence to playful
giddiness as she delighted in my confused
expression. It was seldom that she showed any
affection and had never initiated sexual encounters.
Like any couple, we had our share of disputes, but
our age- or perhaps just a flair for the dramatic we
shared- escalated these to catastrophic crises.
Inevitably, I would end up being the one to
concede, for the sake of peace. But the outcome of
the arguments wasn't what bothered me. I spent
much of our relationship not knowing how she felt
about me- whether it was truly love.
People will say that a sixteen-year-old couldn't
know love from lust, but I learned, beyond doubt,
the distinction that night.
* * *
For a second I panicked; I had no idea what was
expected of me.
She abandoned my cock for the moment to cup my
face in her soft hands and press her full lips to mine.
Her tongue wiggled side to side in my mouth- her
usual kiss- but it felt more aggressive, probing deep,
as if looking for a shortcut to my soul.
Content to relinquish control of the situation, I
relaxed and ran my fingers through her thick hair.
Her hands fell from my chin to my chest, gently
massaging tiny circles as they made their way down
my body.
After a short while, she broke our kiss and moved
back down to my groin. She reached into my
boxers and gripped my cock, squeezing softly as
she dropped warm, wet kisses on my ticklish belly.
I fought to keep from squirming as my senses were
tossed between being tickled, and the intense
pleasure of my cock being squeezed in combination.
As this continued, she began pulling my cock away
from my body, and my boxers came down with her
wrist. She held it upright as her lips jumped over
my pubic hair and began planting those same wet
kisses up the length of the shaft.
Her nails raked ever so slightly the sensitive skin on
the back of the glans and the muscles in my lower
back began to tremble. At length, her kisses
reached the tip of my head and the last kiss was like
the calm before a storm. I opened my eyes and
looked down to catch her face pulling away from
my cock with a gossamer thread of pre-cum
connecting us.
* * *
To call it a blowjob would be an insult to the
sensations that washed over me as her moist lips
slipped over the head of my cock. My knees lost all
sensation and the hair at the back of my neck stood
on end. Tiny arcs of electricity crisscrossed my
scalp and my shoulders pulled back of their own
accord, thrusting forward my racing heart.
She suckled softly, bobbing her head only slightly
as her tongue made love to my cock. An orgasm
began brewing in the pit of my stomach and once
more, I opened my eyes to watch her.
I have a mental photograph of the first time we met
one Valentine's Day at her boyfriend's house. The
cold of winter had flushed her cheeks red, imparting
a cherubic glow. Her bright blue eyes sang to me,
and her smile left me feeling winded.
It took me a year and a half to work up the courage
to confess my feelings for her. She had long since
broken up with the boyfriend, who had also been
my best friend until age drove us apart. But three
years and hundreds of adventures later, here she
was, capturing me with that same beauty all over
again.
* * *
Parallel to the sexual excitement building in me,
another kind of joy was also growing. I was
gradually realizing the reciprocity of my feelings
for her. Despite our tumultuous relationship, there
was a reason that she wouldn't give up, no matter
how loud the shouting became, or how much it hurt.
Her hand slipped further into my underwear and
circled my balls. Her fingers played with them
gently while those magnificent nails teased my
scrotum.
I could restrain myself no longer.
I drew a deep breath that caught in my throat as my
whole body tensed up for the ultimate moment. The
muscles in my cock began to spasm and hot cum
shot into her mouth. I held back the impulse to
thrust my hips and my toes crossed themselves as
my shoulders began to shudder.
She lovingly swallowed my cum, and kept sucking
my cock until it began to soften. Pulling my boxers
back up she grabbed the blanket that I'd kicked off
in my sleep and covered me with it. She ran her
delicate fingers through my hair and kissed my
mouth once more. I pulled her in tight against my
chest as we kissed, breathing deep through my nose
and feeling very much on the brink of tears.
* * *
Regardless of her sexual interest that night, I knew
how she felt about me. By some irrational sense, I
absolutely knew that she loved me, and I felt the
same love for her.
In that kiss, I discovered how love felt, and I was
like a jigsaw-puzzle piece that had found a perfect
match.
In that moment we shared pure love, but pure love
can only exist in the moment. It doesn't remember
the past or plan for the future; it knows only the
present. But a relationship needs more than just
pure love to be healthy, and after all, we were
impossible lovers.
After that kiss, she held me in her arms, stroking my
hair and watching my face as I returned to the
slumber she'd interrupted earlier.
The last thing I remember, before sleep took me,
was her sweet voice whispering in my ear, "I love
you."
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