If You Were Listening, You’d Know.

We were in his bed, laying around and talking a la Dawson & Joey. It was mostly just banter, but if you were listening you’d know that we were in love. My head was on his chest and he was rubbing my back. I would have done anything just to be touching his skin. To be close enough to him to smell his signature fresh laundry scent. The boy always was squeaky clean.

And then, before I had a chance to even blink, he was kissing me. That passionate, can’t-live-without-you kind of kiss. And then my hand had to be on him, so I unzipped his jeans. He was already hard when I grabbed him and started doing what I do. I took him into my mouth and gave him my best effort which was, admittedly, not extraordinary. But we were young, so it didn’t take much for him anyway.

Now, I’m not a swallower. It’s just not my thing. More times than not when I’ve tried, I’ve puked afterward. But he came in my mouth because¬†I asked him to and it was so sweet. I drank it all up.

And then he rebounded like nobody’s business. We started making love. It was sensual. It was perfect. It was everything I’d ever imagined it being. We came in perfect unison and we laid there enveloped in each other.

And then we heard his mom’s voice. His mom is like my mom. And she always wanted us to be together. So while we didn’t get scared that she’d be mad we were home alone, we also didn’t want her to catch us with our pants literally down in our post-sex glow. Who wants that?

We quickly got dressed and I went into her room to ask her a question. He started talking to her from his room, which was right across the hall,¬†where he was still getting ready. After all, he was always squeaky clean. We were all having a conversation like he and I hadn’t just had the most mind blowing sex. She had a few pictures to show me that she’d just gotten developed. And then we talked about a trip that we were taking a few weeks later.

She smiled at me, told me she loved me

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