High Dive

"Blake, what have I done?" Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. "I don't understand. Have I done something to make you mad at me? What is the other thing? I don't like this one."

"You haven't done anything," I said. "It's me. I can't do this anymore, Buckley. I just can't." I could feel the tears streaking my face.

She reached out her hand, her thumb caressing my cheek, wiping away the trail of a tear. "What?" she asked. "You can tell me, Blake. You can tell me anything. We've always told each other everything. What's the other thing?"

"The other thing is you scoot back up this bed and get under the covers," I said. "You stay in this bed and make love to me. You never sleep anywhere else, ever again."

She gasped and her arm drew back, crossing protectively over her chest again. "I..."

I didn't let her finish her thought. "I'm in love with you, Buckley," I told her. "I've been in love with you since we were eight years old! Living here with you like this, it's making me nuts! I can't take it anymore. Seeing you come home with someone else, night after night, hearing you, being close to you, but never touching, it's just..." I couldn't go on. My voice broke and I could feel 20 years of emotion, bottled up inside me, threatening to break the levee and spill out in uncontrolled tumult.

"Blake?" Her voice was quiet and husky. "I... I... I don't know what to say." I didn't know what to say, either, so I started to pull away, getting ready to see her walk away and take my heart with her. I felt her arms over my shoulders, her hands clasping behind my head, fingers tangling in my hair.

She pulled me forward, my head cradled between those big magnificent breasts. Her hands were sliding over me, pulling me to her. I don't know if she lost her balance, or it was intentional, but we fell back on the bed, her steely softness under me, and she held me there.

Her right hand came down and found my left, tugging on it and moving it up until it was filled with the soft firmness of one heavy breast. She pressed my hand onto the plush mound and I could feel the hardness of the little nub in the center.

"I'm going to scoot up now, but I don't want any covers." Her voice moved like liquid fire over me. I stood and she scooted up until all that glowing hair cascaded around her on the pillow, shrouding her in mystery. She held out her hand, but I couldn't move, just drinking in the sight of her. God, she was poetry and flame.

The moonlight illuminated her, along with the shimmering lights from the pool, and the shadows played across that spectacular body. Her breasts stood up proudly, unaffected by gravity. Pale pink nipples adorned them, miniature peaks in their own right. Her ribcage stood out, falling away to the flat plane of her belly, indented with the valley of her navel. She had a small arrowhead of those white-blonde curls on the rise of her mons, bare and glorious below.

"God, you're beautiful," I breathed.

Her hand beckoned me and I moved up, the silkiness of her skin feeling as if it was oiled. She had both hands covering my ears as she pulled my face to hers and we kissed.

I had kissed Buckley thousands of times, but never like this. This was something new. There was a current, flowing from me into her, being charged and redoubled, and then streaming back into me, making every sensation heightened, every nerve sparking. Her lips were delicious, with a faint taste of wine, as if that was something she naturally produced. Her puffy lips clung to mine and we held that first kiss for hours, an eternity of beating hearts and current jumping across synapses.

My hand holding that breast moved of its own accord and I tweaked her little erect button. She gasped into my mouth, and I did it again. I had to taste it, and I slid down to capture it between my lips. She groaned, and began her song. I had heard it before, always tuned to someone else's pitch, but now she was singing for me.

I laved both of those exquisite mounds with my attention and she was writhing under me. I attempted to move further down, the aroma of aroused woman drawing me irresistibly lower, but she tangled her fingers in my hair and tugged, almost painfully.

"No, Blake," she moaned. "I can't wait. I need you in me! We can play later. Inside me, Blake, I need you inside me."

I shed my shorts and she drew me up. I felt the moisture and heat of her against the head of my cock. She was dripping wet, and her lips parted, both above and below as the head of my cock slipped inside. She groaned again.

"God, Blake! Easy! What have you been hiding down there?" She pushed at my chest with her little hands and looked down between us as I rose up a bit.

She gasped as I slid smoothly a little deeper, then drew back, returning, her moisture making the way smooth. "Jesus, Blake, you're huge," she whispered.

I felt huge! I've been in enough locker rooms to know I don't have to be embarrassed, but somehow, the foot-long dong had eluded me. It didn't matter. Buckley seemed to be enjoying what I had. Her gasps let me know that she was feeling it.

I advanced, slowly, savoring the sensation that was Buckley. I'm not certain what I expected, but it wasn't that. She was slippery, extremely tight and extremely wet. The heat of her was nearly scalding me, and I bathed in her. I had been anticipating this moment ever since I knew enough to understand. The anticipation had been the stuff of fantasies; reality was more than fantasy ever promised.

I worked slowly deeper, easing into her until we were fully joined, my balls flush against her ass, and we just lingered there. An eternity passed as I gathered her in my embrace and our lips mingled, an eternity of joy and ecstasy that I never wanted to end.

I could feel little movements inside her, her walls contracting and expanding around me, a faint trembling in the softness of her inner thighs, her breath against my lips. Faint rocking motions in her hips began and she looked into my eyes, hers silver in the moonlight.

"Take me, Blake," she whispered. "Please, take me now."

I drew back, slowly moving until only the head of my cock remained, immersed in her heat. Slowly, I buried myself fully, repeating the motion as she matched my movement. It felt as if we had become one organism, nearly separating, and then joining again in a dance of excitement. The sensation was nearly overwhelming and the repetition did not decrease it, only added to the slow build.

She gasped at each penetration, exhaled at each withdrawal, and a flush was stealing across her features. I felt her hands move down my sides to grasp my ass, pulling me toward her, urging me on.

"Blake!" there was a sense of mounting urgency in her cry of my name. "God, Blake, something... Jesus! More, there's more! Please!"

I increased the pace of my motions and her back arched, thrusting her breasts forward dramatically. Her cries grew louder and she whipped her head from side to side, as her voice rose.

"God, Blake! I'm... I'm..." She trembled violently beneath me, her body gathering energy and beginning to bridge upward as I pushed up and began to pound into the liquid heat of her pussy. Her voice rose to a scream, and the tension broke as she fell back, shuddering and crying out her ecstasy as she came.

The sight of her sent me over the edge, and I pumped rope after rope of cum into her pulsing tunnel. Her orgasm went on for what seemed like minutes as I filled her with years of longing and love. I fell back on her, feeling her shudder and the walls of that tight sheath pulsing intermittently as aftershocks jolted her. I kissed her, but we were both too breathless to keep at that for long. I buried my face in the fragrance of her hair and we held each other as drowning people hold onto a life preserver.

I could feel the slowing of our hearts, her breasts crushed between us, and the pulse of her in them. Languor overtook us and we rested in each other's arms.

"Blake," she murmured.

"Hmm?" The lassitude of my numbed body was nearly overwhelming.

"You're crushing me," Her giggle woke me a little.

"Oh, sorry," I kissed her. "You crush me for a while."

I rolled, taking her with me, my slowly softening cock still embedded inside her. She rested her cheek on my chest and giggled again as she gave me a squeeze with her internal muscles.

"God, that was intense. I've never... I thought... Why didn't we do this years ago?" she murmured.

"Believe me, I wanted to," I said.

She propped her little pointed chin up on her hands, her elbows on the bed beside me, looking for all the world like some sexy elf. She looked deeply into my eyes, searching me with that silver fire. "Why didn't you say something?" she asked.

"I was afraid," I said. "You were my best friend, Buckley. I didn't want to lose you."

"You wouldn't have lost me," she said.

"How do you know?" I asked. "It might have gotten weird and you wouldn't have wanted to be around me anymore. I couldn't take that chance."

"It wouldn't have been weird," she said.

"That's easy to say, now. How do you know?"

"Because I've been waiting for you to say something since we were eight years old," she said. "I thought you didn't see me like that. I've loved you since the day you invited me to play in that tree fort. I was just happy to be close to you, so I've been waiting all these years. Damn you, Blake, think of all the time we've wasted!"

"Well, damn you, too," I laughed. "You never gave me the slightest hint you were interested in being anything but my friend."

"What the hell?" Her eyes flashed, silver and gold. "I spent a hundred years curled up against you in your basement, rubbing my tits on you, kissing you, doing everything I could without saying, 'Fuck me, Blake'. I gave you every hint in the world; you were just too dumb to take them!"

I wasn't sure what kept me from seeing. Was I really that dumb, or had I been so firmly convinced she didn't see me with the same vision? There was also the possibility that I was so afraid of losing my best friend that I couldn't think objectively.

"What are we going to do now?" I asked.

"We're going to make up for lost time," she said. "I'm going to slide down here and blow you until you're hard again, then I'm going to ride you until you can't get it up again. How does that sound?"

Well, it sounded like heaven to me, and that's exactly what happened. It happened so often during the next week that I was falling asleep at work.

We had some talking to do, but I was so in love with her, and so driven mad with lust that it took a while before we could be around each other without fucking like rabbits. I had some serious questions, and I knew she probably did, too.

We had hosted a party, our friends left and we made slow, leisurely love, becoming a frantic coupling toward the end. We were lying in that post-coital bliss and she got it started.

"Blake, I need to talk to you," she said.

"Oh, my God! You're going to divorce me; you've found your soul-mate and it's over," I said. "Oh, wait, we aren't married and that's supposed to happen seven years after we tie the knot."

She punched me on the arm. "Be serious," she said. "What are we doing?"

"Well, I guess I need to find out some things from you," I said.

She nuzzled her cheek into my chest. "Shoot," she said.

"Do you love me, Buckley?" I asked.

I felt her nod. "Yes, I do."

"Well, I love you," I said. "I'm in love with you."

She nodded again. "Yes, me, too."

"Well, you're kind of a wild child," I said. "Tell me about that."

"That's over," she said. "I'm always going to be a little like that, Blake. It's who I am, but I want to be with you, just you from now on."

"Can you do that?" I asked. "You seem to have developed a thing for women. Are you going to miss that?"

She nodded again. "Yes, I will. I can do it, though."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"No, but I'll try," she answered. She seemed pensive and quiet, so I prodded her a bit.

"Are you going to break my heart?" I asked.

"How?" she asked. "Do you mean am I going to leave you? Find someone else? That will never happen. I'll never have another man. That's the easy part. You're all the man I'll ever want or need. It's another woman that will be the hard part."

"Tell me about that," I said.

"It's difficult to explain, but I'll try," she said. "I never even thought about women like that until I was at UCLA my junior year. Do you remember my roommate, Bianca?"

"Was she the cute little Asian girl?" I vaguely remembered her.

"Yes. She swung both ways. She was more than my roommate. I found out that there's something about a woman's touch, Blake. You can be incredibly sensitive and gentle. You're the closest to that I've ever found in a man. There is just something about being with a woman that fills up something I need. I love beautiful things, Blake. You're beautiful, in a different way. Women are soft, gentle, so emotional and I love that."

"So you're telling me you're going to want to be with women?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm going to want that," she said. "I'll try my best not to let it get to me. God, Blake, you fulfill me in so many ways. I don't think this will be a deal."

"Suppose you were to need that?" I asked. "What about me?"

She thought about that for a minute. "Are you saying you'd be good with that as long as you were involved?"

"I don't know," I said. "I'm not saying anything, I'm just thinking out loud here."

"Well, I don't know either," she said. "We'll just have to find out."

She was an incorrigible flirt. I guess I expected that, knowing her as I did, but it was very hard for me for the first six months or so. She invented rules for herself, wrote them down and made me read them to her. She'd pore over each one, dissecting it word by word and asking me if I understood every nuance. I caught on quickly that she was reassuring me. She was making me understand that although she was the wild creature we both knew she was, she was only letting herself out of the cage for me.

"I'll dance with people who ask me, as long as you don't hate them," she said. "Is that okay?"

"Well, maybe," I said. "I don't like people pawing you, Buckley."

"Okay, I understand that," she said. "I wouldn't want some slut groping you." She made some notes. "How about this? No hands on my ass or my tits and nothing inside my clothes. It someone gets roaming hands, I come back to you. Is that good?"

"What about humping you on the dance floor?" I asked. "I've seen you dance. You get pretty wild. Sometimes you look like you're fucking with your clothes on out there."

She laughed. "Yeah, but it just winds me up for you. I know where to draw lines, Blake. Will you trust me?"

I wasn't sure about any of this, but I went along, provisionally. "Okay," I said. "Do I get to say no to anything I don't like?"

"Of course you do. I swear to God, Blake. I won't do anything to disappoint you. I've never lied to you in my life," she said. "I'm telling you that I love you and I'm willing to do almost anything to keep that in your mind. Let's give it a try, okay?"

We gave it a try. We kept up the clubbing, going out a couple of times a week. We both loved to dance, but I mostly liked the slow ones, and she just turned into a dynamo during the fast ones.

She turned down as many dances as she took. It took someone really intriguing to get her away from me and out on the floor. Whoever it happened to be was in for the dance of a lifetime. You could feel the throbbing sensuality radiating from her with every beat of the music. She had the ability to focus on you that made you think you were the only person in the universe and this feral creature was dancing only for you. I felt it many times. When those silver eyes glinted in the lights, she was magical.

She knew how to shut it down when it threatened to get out of hand. If hands went where they weren't supposed to be, she gently, but firmly removed them. If it happened again, she walked. Octopus arms would be left standing on the dance floor with his mouth open, wondering what happened. I only got in two fights that first six months. I won, so it was good.

She severely damaged a couple of guys, herself. Once she embedded her spike heel in a guy's instep, and another time, she left some dude writhing on the floor, clutching his balls as she stalked back to our table.

Seeing her dance with another woman was something to see. The beauties she asked, or who asked her, were always spectacular. She allowed them greater liberties than she did men, and I only saw her shut one woman down. She loved me watching her, I came to realize. I loved watching her, so we made a team. She never danced two dances in a row with anyone, and after each number, she always came back to me and sat one out or dragged me out there.

After those nights, she was supercharged in bed. I gradually became comfortable with her wildness. I trusted her, and I knew she was coming home with me, I'd have the most breathtakingly beautiful woman in the city in my bed that night, and she was mine.

Our lives were busy, fulfilling and fun. At the end of the six months, she asked me to marry her. I guess she got impatient with me. I came home from work, and there were a pair of grey slacks and a black shirt laid out on the bed with a note pinned to the shirt.

It said, "The car will be around to pick you up at six. Be ready, B."

I showered and got dressed, wondering what the hell was going on. The doorbell rang and there was a man in a uniform there. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Go where?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you." He grinned at me.

Oh, well, I got in the car and he drove us downtown. He opened the door and I got out. "What now?" I asked.

"She's waiting for you at the bar," he said.

We were in front of one of the downtown hotels, that had a fancy restaurant on the top floor. I'd never been there, but I'd heard about it. I pointed up and he nodded.

I took the elevator up and went in. I was greeted at the door, and a girl took me back to the bar. Buckley was sitting at the bar, drinking what looked like a tropical mojito. There were two guys on either side of her, looking as if they were competing for her attention and another couple hovering, looking like vultures, ready to swoop in in case the two at the bar struck out.

She saw me and jumped up, causing one of the Romeos to spill his drink. She came walking across the floor to me, poetry in motion, all that flaxen hair floating around her as if in slow motion. She claimed my arm and kissed my cheek. "Our table is back here," she said.

She led me by the hand and her walk would have raised the dead, her hips swinging and that amazing ass jiggling inside the green sheath dress she was poured into. We took our seats and I ordered a glass of wine. The waiter left and I looked her over.

She never wore makeup that you could see, but her eyes had been done and she was perfection.

"What's the occasion?" I asked.

She gave me a mysterious smile and a conspiratorial wink. "You'll see," she said.

I let it drop and we talked about ordinary things. To tell the truth, I had always been a little in awe of her. Now, here was this gorgeous creature, sitting across from me, and after all these years, I was still in awe of her. I had trouble believing she was mine.

We ate, and it was as good as I'd heard. She wanted to split a piece of cheesecake, and we fed each other bites. When we finished, I got another glass of wine and she got another mojito. We clinked glasses and I had to know. "When's the big reveal?"

She sat her glass down and dug around in her clutch for a second. When she looked up at me, her eyes were sparkling and I could see her bite her lower lip like she did when she was nervous.

She took my hand in hers and pulled it across the table, cupping it around her cheek as she nuzzled into it.