Crystal Ch. 01

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“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 Manisa Escort 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. Manisa Escort Bayan 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 Escort Manisa 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?”


“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.

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