1 comments/ 27578 views/ 1 favorites Crystal Ch. 01 By: michaeldgorman "I don't know, you know?" she said. "It's like, inertia. Or, I guess that's being harsh. It's just hard to give up someone when being held by them still makes you feel like everything is alright." She stopped and turned to me, looking at me expectantly. We'd been walking so close to one another that she instinctively put her hand on my chest to stop us from colliding. We just stood there for a moment like that, drinking the situation in, her eyes locked on mine, looking for an answer when no question had been asked. I finally said, softer than I intended, as my voice caught in my throat in the nervousness of the moment, "But does he make you happy?" Her gaze fell from my eyes, and she took several steps away from me. But there was no purpose to her steps, so I didn't follow after, and she just sort of wandered for a moment, searching her thoughts, staying a few steps away, as if the distance was required to focus on analyzing him, on analyzing them. "Sometimes. Sometimes he can be really sweet, and I remember why we ever got together to start with. Once, when we were kids, I don't know, maybe eight or nine, this one day he came running into my backyard as I was playing with another girl from our grade, and he was so excited because he had found this really unusual flower back in the woods by our street, but the excitement was in giving it to me, and he had the sweetest, most sheepish look on his face for this moment before he ran off, embarrassed because this other girl was there. And sometimes he still reminds me of that little boy, like, I look at him and I see that sweet boy who couldn't wait to give me the prettiest thing he'd ever found." At first her eyes were glued to the ground as she told me this, but she gradually came back to looking me in the eyes. It was so strange, knowing someone for barely a day, and yet here we were, wandering aimlessly for the last two hours, opening up like we'd known each other for years, each the closest friend the other had in this strange new place. As I stared back into her hazel eyes, no words came to me. So she said, after the pause had become a silence, "I'm sorry, I guess it's not fair, unloading all of this on you, as if orientation were some big therapy session for me to figure out my love life." Her gaze again fell to examining the ground, and she suddenly sat in what must have looked like a nice spot in the grass. As I sat down beside her, the right words finally came to me, "No. It's alright. I mean, not just alright. I'm enjoying listening. To be honest, the whole orientation thing just seemed like it would be a drag at first. But getting to know you has been cool." Her smile told me that she felt the same, and her right hand, with its turquoise stone flower ring, came up to the top of ear to pull out the joint she had stored there, hidden behind the thick waves of her long auburn hair. It sat between her lips, bouncing lightly as she fished around in her crocheted, long strap purse, looking for a lighter. I gave her a moment before I pulled mine out of my pocket, interrupting her search with the scratching of the flint as I lit the flame in my extended hand. "Can you just light it? Since you've got the lighter anyway..." she asked, extending the joint to me in her hand instead of taking the lighter from mine, the tone in her voice ringing of seductiveness of a young girl who knows how to get boys to do things for her and make them feel good about themselves in the process. A strange tone, I thought, for such a request. The joint on my lips tasted of her lip gloss, watermelon or some such sweet and juicy thing, but that was washed away as the skunky smoke drew into my mouth, and in that moment as the taste of her lips disappeared from my own the desire that had been welling inside me as we wandered aimlessly through the growing dark finally took tangible form, moving from a desire simply for this girl to a need to taste her lips again, and not through the intermediary of a rolling paper. "So," I began, passing the glowing cherry to her, "what's the problem? I mean, I get that you're afraid of being stuck in a situation where you rarely see him but are tied down to him anyway. But, honestly, even when you talk about how sweet he is or that he's a big, strapping jock, you've kind of got a tone of derisiveness." Her eyes were fixed on the grass again, breathing out her hit, then, after a moment of pause, another drag to buy some time. "Maybe I shouldn't say derisiveness. It just seems like, you know, even forgetting about the long distance thing, does he really make you happy?" Her hand moved the faint glow across the nearly dark air into my outstretched fingers, fingertips glancing across knuckles, lingering long enough to betray something, before she dropped her shoulders flat onto the ground, lying her head back under the arm folded there to cradle it. "No, you're right. I mean, in so many ways, we're not compatible. As much as his stability and always being there and acting chivalrous and occasionally really sweet are great, really, just, you know, brighten your day kind of goodness, he's just..." her free hand waved about above her face as if searching the sky to pluck the right words, before it dropped, as if giving up. Then she suddenly turned to me, resting on her side, her hand holding her head up. And, looking at me like that, she found the words, "I mean, I don't presume to know you yet, like, really know you, but I think I can say very confidently that he's nothing like you." If it wasn't dark I maybe could have seen her blush at speaking these words, but the light had grown so faint that I could no longer see the dusting of freckles over her nose and across her cheekbones. "Like, he's not the kind of guy that I would make friends with, you know? Or even really talk to at all. We were only friends to start with because we grew up a few houses apart, and we've changed so much but never shed those old friendships even when they stopped making sense." When she'd turned toward me the change in position had also taken her closer to me, and we were again so close that it was odd that the situation remained comfortable, my knee at most an inch from her belly, my thigh running off at a mere ten or fifteen degree angle to her torso so that her chest stuck out to almost close the gap at my hip. That absurdly gorgeous chest I'd watch bouncing towards me in a light tank top and seemingly no bra the day before as she approached to ask me and my new friend Ben for a hit from the joint we thought we were surreptitiously smoking. The joint got passed again, back, and forth, the comfort we both felt deepening, the mood staying upbeat despite the sudden sour turn to the conversation. It was finished before I had anything to say again. "Yeah, but, I guess that happens even with people you haven't known since childhood. I mean, honestly, I wouldn't say I have much in common with my girlfriend either." She was quick to cut in, "I thought she was your ex-girlfriend?" "Well, kind of, I mean, when we talked about it, it ended with us both saying that yeah, we didn't want to stay together once I left, even if we'd both been going off to school, but moreso because she'd be a high school senior and it just didn't seem to make any sense to do. And we decided it was easier to break up then than to drag it out, go through a summer marked by an expiration date. And there were the requisite tears, but, surprisingly, no anger. She's usually so fiery. But then we never really stopped spending time together, or, you know..." "Fucking?" she offered, helpfully. "Yeah. So we broke up but still act the role. Only I think she has gone on at least one date with this other guy. Kind of getting something warmed up on the back burner. And she made a joke as I was leaving yesterday morning that I better bring condoms with me, otherwise she wouldn't keep sleeping with me, because she wasn't risking catching something from some college tramp." "Did you?" "What? Catch something?" Her face broke out into a huge smile and she barely got the word, "No," out before breaking into laughter, my own laughter beginning before hers as I immediately realized the stupidity of my response. Then, as our laughter died down after a moment and we both drew deep breaths to regain composure, she said, "So what were you saying about not having much in common with her?" "Well, we met last spring, my junior year, when we were both on the track team. And track, along with cross country, was just sort of something I did as like, a social but active thing. I didn't take it seriously. But she was the best sprinter and jumper on the girls' team. And school was the same: I was a slacker, she stayed in on weekends a lot to get extra studying in while I was off drinking with my friends. It's one of those high school relationships, where like, you click in the hallways between classes and at track practice and you really click when you find some privacy and time. But it doesn't go any deeper than that really. We can go see a movie and then make out; we couldn't sit here and just talk like this." She'd moved again, as I was talking, moving her front side flat against the ground, her head held in both hands, and pivoted so that her head was now near my thigh, a foot or less away from resting in my lap so I could stroke that beautiful hair, feel the softness of the skin around her temples and ears and the nape of her neck. "That's too bad. But I guess that's how it goes. I mean, it wouldn't do you much good to have found someone you really connect deeply to anyway. Graduation comes and boom, you're going separate ways. Or maybe I'm just afraid of being tied down. I always have had this vision of having this real freedom in college. To really take it as a time to just do whatever comes along to do and not worry about being tied down. I think being with the right person now would make it too hard to get out of these years what I want to get out of them, and it probably wouldn't end well anyway." I was kind of taken aback, and found myself ready to disagree, suddenly feeling a desperation to defend a possibility I hadn't even thought through, that maybe we were right for each other and this was the thing to do, coming along. Before this could develop or fester and before I could speak she must have sensed the changing mood and quickly moved to rescue it. "You seem like a free spirit," she said, "so you ever do anything really crazy?" "What, like, fuck in public, that kind of thing?" That drew another big smile, "I don't know, maybe. Anything." "Not really, I guess. I mean, probably the closest I've come - and this is really mild - is when a bunch of my friends came up to my beach house in Cape Cod, I went skinny dipping with a bunch of girls." "Just girls?" "Well, it was the girls' idea. Just after we'd all gone off to bed one night, the girls in the two bedrooms and the guys in the den - because none of us were together and maybe we were all overly worried about creating awkwardness with hookups within that group - anyway, they came back out and tried to get us all to go skinny dipping. I couldn't believe the other guys weren't willing. There were four girls, and three of them I have to imagine we all wanted to see naked, one of those three we had all talked about in that way many times." "Well, it is easier to want to see than to want to be see, I guess." "Well, it was dark enough that I didn't see anything anyway, and I guess I tried not to look, I didn't want to be creepy. But I know they all looked, because there were whispering about it later, so maybe that is what the other guys were scared of, but I figured I have nothing to be ashamed of." "Oh? Not worried about shrinkage?" she asked through a mischievous grin. "Okay, well, maybe I sneaked a couple peeks to make sure there wasn't any of that." This got a brief chuckle before a nearly awkward silence as we drifted farther into conversation that said too much about what we both wanted but wanted also to keep hidden and didn't trust the instinct telling us the other wanted the same thing. She again took the role of rescuing us from the silence, "I tried to go skinny dipping with Dave once. A friend I met at a concert told me about this really beautiful swimming hole..." "Swimming hole?" "Yeah, you don't have those around here? They're like, out in the woods, sometimes natural features but this one was a big old granite quarry that had been filled in with water, this beautiful, clean water. And it was a two hour drive out, and I packed a nice picnic, even brought a nice bottle of wine to go along with it, but David said no to that because what if someone sees us drinking underage, and I'd have loved to bring a joint but David hates weed, and hates that I smoke sometimes, but it still could have been a really great afternoon. "I didn't mention to him that my friend Kara had told me that a lot of the swimmers there skinny dip, it's totally normal and accepted. So we get there and he see a few naked people in the distance, and I can tell he's kind of freaking out about it, but he stays quiet. And I wanted to eat first, because we left late and I was starving. So we start eating and he's clearly bothered, barely eating anything, and he finally says, 'Did you know there would be naked people here?'" "So I told him I didn't know everyone would be naked, but look, there's hardly anyone and they're at a distance, so who cares. So then he wants to know, 'Are you planning on swimming naked?' Because Mr. Uptight doesn't want anyone else seeing his girlfriend's tits. So we just ended up leaving. And we didn't talk the whole two hours home." "That sucks." "Yeah, but it's not just that one day. I just wish for once, he could let go, say, 'Fuck it,' do something spontaneous." Our eyes were locked as she said this, and she had a strange smile on her face that didn't match her words, something else creeping into it. "Spontaneous," I parroted back, and, shrugging, "fuck it." A quick lean forward and our lips were touching, that watermelon taste returning to me, first a soft timidness to her lips that dissolved suddenly away into a fierce urgency, our lips opening to receive the other's kiss. The momentum of my lean forward carried her onto her side with her head back in the grass, me on my side beside her, my head above hers, our hands meeting between our two bodies, now actually further apart, as if afraid that the old proximity would bring too much too fast. I could feel my cock swelling slightly, the sexiness of the moment outweighing the lack of contact. And just, as quickly, it was over, without being broken off, we both just knew, and were satisfied with the moment that had been. She smiled, wide, "Yeah, like that," a new dreaminess having crept into her voice. Sitting up, she drew her knees to her chest, gathering her hair back to pull it into a ponytail, secured with an elastic seemingly procured from thin air. This time, it was me that broke the silence. "I know what you mean. Lindsay can't be spontaneous either. everything has to go according to plan, no wasted time, always efficient." "Well, at least you said you click sexually, right?" "Yeah, I suppose so." "Mmmm, well, she can't be that uptight then. I mean, she's at least normal, sexually, right?" "How so?" "You know, healthy curiosity about oral sex, or different positions, willing to at least consider new things?" "Oh, yeah... wait, and he's not?" "No, David can't even admit to masturbating. Thinks porn is gross. Says me going down on him just makes him feel awkward. But he only admitted that once I dragged it out of him. He tried to pretend he liked it because he knew I liked doing it. He just has trouble with the idea of sex being fun, playing around. It's all a means to an end for him, get in and get that orgasm accomplished, with missionary being the proper way to go about that." "No concern for your pleasure?" By this point I definitely had an erection, and made no effort to hide it. "Oh, he tries. I mean, it freaks him out if I touch myself during sex, so I can come too, or if I do afterward, and he's sort of inept if he tries to get me off with his hand during foreplay. He used to try to go down on me, and he wasn't actually that bad at it, but I could tell he hated doing it, which made it hard to really enjoy, so it never went anywhere." "So he's never made you come?" "Nope?" "Jeez, that kind of sucks. Has anyone?" "Oh, yeah, there were some other guys, before him..." I interrupted her as what she'd said a moment ago fully set in, "And what do you mean, he used to try?" "Well, he won't anymore," she said, looking away, she did seem to be sort of embarrassed by this frank talk, but clearly also craved it, the eroticism of the moment carrying over from the kiss and before the kiss and through this conversation. So I pressed on, "Why not?" Her reply came sheepishly, after she first looked at me for a moment nervously biting her lower lip, "I saw in a book that it can make oral more pleasurable, for the guy giving it and the girl receiving it, to do a little hair removal." She stopped to swallow and clear her throat, and looked down at her painted toes, which she wiggled nervously, "So I shaved off all my pubic hair. Which of course totally freaked him out. He didn't even want to have sex at all at first because he thought that would make him a pedophile, as if I could be confused with a little girl." "Wow, weird." Then, after a pause, "So did you grow it back or are you still..." "Still bald? Yeah, I don't give in that easily. I like it, and I figure if all it means is him not going down on me I'm not really missing anything anyway." The private nature of the conversation was making us each take our time, for the most part, formulating replies, and, so, after a moment, I said, "Wow. I mean, I've never seen that before. Not completely shaved anyway." I was now sitting Indian style across from her, and at some point she had moved her bare toes under my legs, maybe from the chill in the air, maybe just for contact. Maybe both. "So go ahead," she said through a sly grin, "be spontaneous. Ask." I stammered, "What?" "You know, this is the part where you say, 'So what does a clean shaven pussy look like?' And then I say, 'Oh, well, let me show you.'" This time I blushed and grinned, even more strongly as I noticed her eyes had drifted down to my erection, obvious through my jeans, her tongue licking her lower lip absent mindedly, waiting for my reply. "Well," it finally came, "that sounds like a great plan. But, to be honest, if I was going to make any inappropriate suggestions like that, it would be more likely to be, 'Wow, I can't but wonder what a great pair of tits like yours looks like unclothed, up close and personal.'" "Ooh, sorry," came the quick retort, "you lose points for using the word tits." I must have immediately gotten an astonished look on my face, as she quickly amended that to, "But... on the other hand. What the hell, be spontaneous, right?" It was a little chilly for a July night, and she'd worn a light hoodie, which she quickly peeled off. Under it she wore a camisole, which revealed its built in bra as she peeled it off also. It took a moment to pull myself together to say, trying to spend at least as much time looking up into her eyes as at her chest, "Wow. Incredible." And they were, or she was. Heavy set breasts, seemingly huge on such a small girl. Crystal is 5'2" and maybe 110 or 115 lbs. depending on when she steps on the scale. Slim and lithe but not skinny, a well defined waist and very round hips, soft everywhere. The breasts themselves each nearly take two hands to hold entirely - a 32DD to put it into numbers. Crystal Ch. 01 Even at 18 they already hung slightly low, pendulous, as breasts that size do, but the fulness from near the level of her armpit to the gloriously rounded bottom of her breasts about two thirds of the way down her upper arm gave the appropriate appearance of youth. In the moonlight I could barely make out the dusting of freckles across her decolletage, dipping down to the top of her cleavage where the two breasts met before separating off, curving gently away from each other. The moonlight also made difficult to see the color of her nipples, but it was clear are areola were pale, pinker than her skin but not much darker, and large but perfectly proportioned to the volume of the breast around them. Her nipples themselves stood out in the cold, thick, not long, but prominent. "Thanks, but, it's too cold to sit around topless." She left the tank top cast aside on the grass, but pulled the hoodie back on, then said, "Your turn." Caught off guard, I stammered, "What?" then started pulling off my t-shirt. "Ooh, nice," she leaned forward to run her fingers through the dense but fine hair on my sternum, then the sum total of my chest hair, save for the hair around my nipples, "but not what I meant." "Hey," I protested, taking her hand in mine, "I didn't get a touch test. And what did you mean." "Well, you do have a nice chest, but... not exactly equitable to a woman's... so..." She motioned with her eyes down to my crotch, as her free hand had moved to my stomach, then very flat, not six pack abs but completely trim, fitting with my skinny boy's body, and her fingers began to play with the sparse, dark trail of hair underneath my navel. "Somehow I think me taking off my pants is more equitably to you hiking up that skirt and pulling off your underwear, but hey, if that's what you want, all in good time, but first..." as I was talking and even slightly as she was talking our faces had been moving closer, our lips coming to meet as I finished the sentence. This time there was no softness to start, just an intense, almost desperate intertwining of lips, tongues sneaking in now and then, wetness playing upon wetness, only stopping to moan out through absurdly broad smiles little sounds of joy, not unlike laughs but not about anything funny. We both stayed sitting up but she moved astride me to gain more leverage, her knees on the ground by my hips, her soft, warm ass in my lap. One of my hands was behind me, bracing our weight, as the other hand moved to her thigh, slipping under her long, flowing skirt, finding the soft, smooth skin there before taking hold of her perfectly rounded hip and pulling her into me, our crotches grinding together. My hand then continued its progress to her ass, taking hold of the soft flesh, not as big and round as her top half but together with her hips striking the perfect balance, and providing my hand more than enough exquisite warmth to hold. After a moment, however, she moved her ass back, out of convenient reach, as she moved her crotch off of my straining erection, taking the hand that had been teasing the hair at the back of my head and bringing it down to grip my penis through my jeans. My free hand, suddenly assless, moved up, outside her skirt, to her waist, under her hoodie, feeling her softness there, working up to her breast. The heavy feel of it in my hand was perfect, and I pushed up a bit, dragging my thumb up to her nipple, still rock hard, though now from arousal rather than cold, rolling the thumb around the nipple. This caused Crystal to have to break off our kiss, turning her head to the side and letting out soft sighs, exposing her neck, the perfect skin there, which my lips soon were locked on, kissing just hard enough to not leave a mark. Suddenly both her hands took the sides of my head, at the bottom, under the ears, first pulling me in for another kiss on her lips, then pushing away to say, "Now. Now is the due time. So take your pants off." I started to stand, which cased her to slide off me backwards, falling softly on to her ass, her knees spreading in the process, affording a look clear up her skirt to the printed hipster panties she wore, little blue birds on a white background. Then as I got fully to my feet she moved to kneeling as tall as she could, to level her head with my crotch. Her hands pushed mine out of the way, impatient with my slow working of my belt buckle, and my jeans were quickly at my feet, followed by my boxers, freeing my cock to spring out, slapping softly against her cheek, the drop of precum on the tip sticking to her cheekbone and leaving a brief line of precum connecting it to the head of my cock as it bounced away from her face. She moved her face back to look, first at my cock alone, then taking it in her hand, a firm grip, and pumping slowly, a soft groan emitting from her amid her gaze, her eyes looking up at me with a clear desire, an expression playing across her lips of pure pleasure at what she had found. Her lips then moved towards the head of my cock, until her hand directed it upwards, so her lips met the base of the shaft, where the skin stretches out to become scrotum, her lips making contact but her tounge rolling around between them, doing the real work, then trailing like this all the way up the shaft, moving her hand to clear a path but still pumping and keeping a good rhythm. As she reached the final inch or so before the head, her tongue came fully out from her lips, spreading flat to cover the whole width, licking up to the head, then again, over and over, then finally on to the head, across the urethra, picking up more precum leaking there, then circiling around to the opposite side of the head, into her mouth but her tongue still circling the head like this, her hand still pumping. By this point, I was so near coming she could have just kept doing this, but she began to try to take the head and some of the shaft into her mouth, pumping it in and out, the slight awkwardness of it revealing a certain lack of experience, but one that did nothing to stop it from feeling amazing. She pulled my penis out of her mouth and slowed her pumping to ask, "Are you almost there?" Then, seeing my slight, dazed nod, continued, "Will you be able to go again soon if you come now?" Our eyes met and I gave no clear response. "I mean, can you fuck after you come?" I nodded yes and moaned, the best response I could manage. Her mouth back on me, the in and out motion restored, her hand pumping quicker and firmer, it was not long before I was coming into her mouth. Impressively, despite her clear inexperience at all this, she managed to keep all the semen in her mouth. Swallowing, she smiled up at me again. "That was amazing," I said, eliciting a small giggle. I dropped to my knees and leaned my head down to kiss her, my salty taste on her lips, my hands then moving to her shoulders to push her back into the grass until she was lying on her back, her knees bent up. I moved my mouth from her lips to her ear, then her neck, down until I met clothing, then, moving down to her waist, starting at the top of her skirt, on one side, just above her hip, kissing up to the bottom of her ribs, then across down to her belly finding the near invisible fuzz below her navel leading in a trail to my highest goal, but then back up to the top of the other hip and up the curve of the ribcage, pushing up her hoodie to arrive in the space between the bottoms of her breasts. As I pushed her hoodie up to free her breasts, they swung out of the material, and I moved again between them, momentarily indulging myself by moving each hand to the bottom of a breast and push them in to surround my face, kissing the sides of one, then the other, letting them go and kissing up across the tops of the expanse of them, flattened by lying back but still standing out off her chest, playing with one nipple between thumb and forefinger as I sucked the other. She moaned in enjoyment, but this only increased her need for me to move lower, her hands now pushing down on my shoulders, I lifted up and back to flip up her skirt, and hooked my hands to lower her panties. The sheer smoothness of what I found immediately entranced me. Her mound was prominent, a feminine curve nestled between her perfect hips, and below it the skin split neatly, the fleshy outer lips smooth, already parted in arousal, the moisture between visible even in the moonlight, the inner lips not sticking out but visible, small and wrinkled, between the outer lips. The visibility from the lack of hair amazed me, as I saw clearly for the first time all the parts of the vulva in perfect living detail. I kissed her mound before moving down to kiss her soft, fleshy inner thighs, lick up and down each outer lip, but she seemed to have no patience for this, in this moment, needing to come, not having been brought there by a man in so long, and so her hands directed my head up to the top of her inner lips and my outstretched tongue found the nub of her clitoris poking out, and circled, flicked across, sucked a little, much of the same awkwardness of inexperience showing through in my performance that had been in hers. The heady smell of her and the barely perceptible taste were nearly hypnotic to me, and I could have stayed there for hours. But it was over in just minutes, her breath quickening to little gasps peppered with, "Quicker... yeah... ohhhhh... there... uhhh... up, up.... ohhhhh yeah... uhhhhh..." as her hands took a vice like grip of my hair and her ever muscle tensed, ending in a deep, throaty growl of ecstasy, leaving me only to kiss back up to meet her voracious mouth, kissing intensely through the gasping of her catching her breath. With a hint of exhaustion to her, she soon whispered, "Fuck me," into my ear. As she drew her knees up to her chest, letting her skirt pool at her waist, my penis had no difficulty finding her entrance, slick with her pleasure, and sliding in, as she murmured, "Slowly... slowly... uh... ohhh... slowly..." That first stroke in seemed to last forever, slipping in maybe an inch every ten seconds, taking, then, about a minute, as I made sure not to push in to deep, leaving at least an inch out. I kept moving slowly, and even then I knew I couldn't last long. It felt so amazing, and this girl was so incredible, the eroticism of it all was overwhelming. But, after a few strokes she seemed to get used to me, and to have caught her breath, though her gasps continued with every thrust. She kissed me quickly, then, wrapping her legs around my hips, gracefully guided me on to my back, with her on top. With her breasts now an easy reach up to fondle, I couldn't have been happier, and this new position slowed my impending orgasm. Her thrusts were of a perfect rhythm, neither fast nor slow, but vigorous enough for her breasts to bounce around beneath my fingertips, an incredible site when my hands made her hoodie ride up enough to catch that rare glimpse. She took in only about half of my length at each thrust, then more like two thirds of it every five or six thrusts. Then, as she heard my breath quickening, my slight groan, she bore down, taking all of me in, biting her lip, looking slightly pained but also in a state of great pleasure, and ground herself against me, only an inch or two slipping out then back in with each swirl of her hips, so that I stayed deep inside her for most of the last minute or so before I felt my legs and abdomen begin to clench and heard moans escape my lips, building the the most intense orgasm I could recall having. She stayed atop me, with me inside of her, as we both gasped for air, kissing each others' mouths, faces, and necks. After a few minutes, she slid off, and started to gather her things. I got dressed while she watched, seated on the ground, before extending a hand to be helped up, kissing me firmly on the mouth once she got up. I can't remember what we talked about in the post orgasmic bliss of the walk back to our temporary dorms, I just remember that neither of us could stop smiling. And I remember making a joke just before we got back that we should stop behind a tree for a quick fuck from behind, to which she replied that she would be too sore to fuck again for a few days. We held hands the whole way back, taking our time getting there not wanting these moments we'd shared to come to an end, yet also both now reassured about the future, knowing that, at the very least, for the next four years, there would be someone there to turn to, to connect with, to share in our joys, and that everything would be alright.