Meeting My Crush Again

This is my first story ever on here and I'm just trying out this style. I don't really know if it'll work so please leave any constructive criticism. Thank you and enjoy. Also let me know if I should do an audio recording.

*****

I remembered that you were my brother's best friend from elementary school. I never considered that you thought about me as a girl. Sure, we were only children then and I could hardly count as girly. I hardly wore dresses or skirts until the school enforced uniforms. Even then, it had never stopped me from playing baseball on the boys' team during PE or after school. I always thought that you liked girls like Kayla, my best friend at that age.

You were caught kissing in fifth grade.

The last thing I remembered about you was the last day of sixth grade. You pulled me aside after sixth period, an extra class we had after school was over, and told me that your family was moving to Oregon. You already told my brother. You said your dad got a job up there and that next year you wouldn't see me at Kings Middle School. I remembered that's when your parents pulled up and honked. You handed me a piece of paper and said, "Don't tell Kayla. Don't tell Timmy." Then you ran off.

Your note read: I really like you a lot and I want you to know I never kissed Kayla. She kissed me. Write me, please.

That was 1994.

I did write you and you wrote back, but I don't remember why we stopped. I don't remember why Kayla and I stopped being friends either.

All I know is that I can't believe you walked back into my world in 2005.

I didn't even know it was you. My good friend makes a passing comment about the cute blonde who just walked into the room looking in our direction. I only see your profile from the corner of my eyes as you pick a seat in the back of the room. I never really look at any guy she says is 'cute'. It's our secret code for 'I saw him first'. When the professor says my name during roll call, my friends passes me a note that says, cute guy just looked at you.

I don't take it seriously and think she's just joshing me, trying to get me to weigh in on her latest interest.

The professor later says Derek Oswell.

That's funny I knew a Derek Oswell once. He has dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. But he moved to Oregon a long time ago.

My friends writes, cute guy is named Derek.

I write back, now you know what name to moan.

She sticks her tongue out at me and we share silent giggles. Thank goodness we are regulars of the English department otherwise the professor wouldn't ignore us.

For the second half of class we are to count off and pair up. There are twenty of us and somehow you and I end up with the same number. I apologize to my friend before moving to join you, but she sees this as an opportunity for reconnaissance.

We pair off into your corner. I say, "Hi, I'm Jen."

You break out in an infectious grin, almost laughing. I feel a little weirded out by you for the moment. Why is he smiling like that? I think to myself.

You say, "I'm Derek, nice to meet you." and hold your hand out.

I reach over to shake your hand. Before you release my hand you gently squeeze it. Your handshake very firm. Your blue eyes sparkle like light bouncing off diamonds. I don't know why but my heart beats faster and I have to look away. So I pretend to rummage through my backpack. Thank goodness I left my notebook in it, so I don't look like an idiot.

You're not fooled by it at all. You can tell I'm a little flustered and it makes you happy.

She has no idea who you are, but you know exactly who she is. It's almost hard to believe, but more amusing that the same girl you knew when you were eleven was sitting right across you no longer wearing oversized t-shirts and hand-me-down boy jeans. Now she is wearing form fitting tops that have to be designed for one thing only: to drive men crazy. The once flat chested sixth grader now has herself a nice pair of round tits. She traded her brother's jeans for jean skirts of her own. It is a good thing she isn't hiding her smooth sturdy legs anymore. Even her boyish glasses are swapped for a pair of flirty ones. She looks so sexy. Don't stare, she'll think you're a pervert. But damn, she has to know how good she looks, right?

"So are you a Lit or Comp major?" I ask this weird guy who is still smiling.

"I'm not sure yet," you say.

"Oh, that's cool." It's not a big deal that many students don't actually decide their course of study before their first semester.

"You?"

"I'm a Lit major." I reply proudly.

You nod and then blurt out, "You don't remember me do you, Jen?"

This catches me off guard. "Uh..."

Great, now you've done it.

"Should I?" I look at you strangely, "This is the first time I've met you."

"So you didn't go to Lincoln Elementary and you don't have a brother named Timmy?" you ask quietly as to not scare me anymore than you already have.

How the hell would you know my brother's name or the elementary school I attended unless..."No way, man is it really you? "

You can't help but chuckle.

"Oh man..." I resist the urge to face palm. "English, really?"

"Yea why not? You're majoring in it too."

I can tell you're a bit defensive so I say, "I always thought you'd do math."

You can't help thinking the limit of you plus me minus clothes.

"I always thought you go into some science." You casually reply.

And that's how it starts. Chaucer and the Canterbury Tales. That's how we reconnect. That's how it becomes you, me, and my friends who are all Literature majors. That's how i introduce you to Mary, my friend who wants to be more than a classmate.

That's the story of our friendship.

Except one day in our junior year Mary's sick so it's just you and me who meets at Starbucks in the school's main library on campus. This is one of the rare occasions that we are alone. I spot you sitting in our usual spot hiding among the S aisle of bookshelves. I sneak over to you and cover your eyes with my hand. I'm counting on you to push away and make a comment about how it's not fun or cool to interrupt your reading. However, this time you reach around and grab my butt giving it a pinch. You can feel my skin against the fabric of the shorts. It seems like there's no panties at all but you know I must be wearing a thong. I pull away immediately as your mind wanders towards how right now there's only a small piece of cloth shielding me underneath my shorts.

"What the f-" I start.

You're laughing, "Language, young lady." You're sitting smugly.

I roll my eyes, "That's not what you're supposed to do."

"And what am I supposed to do?"

"Not that." I set my backpack down and grab my purse. "Be right back."

You grab my wrist stopping me from heading toward Starbucks. For a moment our eyes meet. I try not to fall apart because I just want to swim in the ocean of your eyes. You want to quench the fire you sense burning behind my chocolate brown eyes.

"I got you your drink already." You tell me, "Don't go."

I can hear the plea in your voice coaxing me to sit. I wished I'd told you not to go all those years ago, maybe we would've had our moment in high school. Maybe on prom night I would've given myself to you without restraint. Maybe I would've known how your arms feel like holding me close. Maybe my lips would've tasted yours, tasted your manhood. Maybe you would've felt my voice utter your name in pleasure. Maybe, just maybe, I would know the secret to revving your engine, felt the sweet sweat of our bodies interlocked, the satisfaction of being spent and spending. Instead, now I remind myself to never divulge my true opinions of you around my friends, around Mary. Instead, I patiently endure her fantasies of you.

I clear my throat, "Thanks. You're so sweet."

You flash your daring smile. "I try."

"Much appreciated." I sip from the straw. "Did you finish the reading?"

"Yea, I'm just reviewing my annotations."

"Cool."

I don't really want to talk about school but it's the safest thing to converse about unless I bring up Mary. Today I don't want to talk about Mary. I always talk about Mary, but not right now. She should try to get you on her own. It's not really my job, is it?

"Where is it?" You say searching your backpack.

"Where is what?"

"I tracked down that Chinese book you were looking for, for your essay." You start to empty your bag.

"You found it?!"

"Yea."

I jump up and walk over to your side of the table to help you look for it. I forget about my unrequited, unfriendly (towards Mary), totally un-lady like thoughts. That particular book was so hard to locate but so vital to my argument and although I read a version of it before I need the book for citation.

In your eagerness to find the book you knock others off the table and we both dive for them. Our hands touch as we grab the same red textbook for one of our classes. Your warm masculine hand cupping my soft hand. I know I should've moved right away but I couldn't. Your hand is nice to touch. Your fingers long but not boney. You have more than just skin on them. If I didn't know better I swear I could feel your blood rushing. It couldn't be. It must be my own. You pull away first and I have to take a breath to clear my thoughts.

"I'm so stupid," you announce, "I left it in my room."

"Well that's ok, just give it to me later."

"Don't be silly," you counter, "we don't have class today remember. Come with me, let's get the book."

I start to say no because even though I've been to your room a million times, I've never gone by myself or just with you. You brush me off and take my backpack swinging in over your own. I try to take it and you stop me taking my hand. I try to pull away but you just hold on tighter.

And then you slip your fingers in between mine pressing your warm palm against my own.

I gawk at our hands but you act like it's no big deal. So I just go along with it, with you. I don't even think twice about not entering your room when we get there. I forget that I'm afraid of being here with you alone.

You drop our bags on your couch and head towards your desk. I set my purse down next to our bags. You tell me to close the door so I do. I forget that technically I'm not supposed to be here; it's not co-ed. You do a victory dance when you find the book and I look at you. You hand me the book grinning like a fool. I laugh at you. You laugh at yourself too. And then we are laughing about how silly you can get when you're happy. But I have no idea what you're happy about. You're just adorable when you laugh.

Suddenly you kiss me. Hard. Your lips pressing against my soft, lightly lip-sticked, uneven lips. Your strong hands cupping my face, your fingers caressing my hair. Our lips part momentarily just to reunite with a burning yearning. You linger on my lower lip, the fuller one. kissing it gently. You look into my eyes with your blue forget-me-nots smiling. My chest rising and falling, my heart beating fast. Your tongue parting my lips and meeting my own. We dance together caressing each other. Our bodies pressed against each other.

In a blur you turn me around and wrap your left arm around my shoulders. Your right hand hugging me across the stomach. You press into my backside clearly aroused. I remind myself to breath as I try to decide between pushing away, being a good friend or stay and risk my friendship. I can feel the heat emanating from you behind me. Oh my god, I can't. Mary is my friend. As if you knew what I was thinking, you part my hair and peck my neck. I close my eyes fighting the surge coursing through my veins. Your left hand descends to cup while your left hand ascends.

"I can't..." I exhale airily.

"Why not?" Your voice coarser than usual. Your hot breath brushing my ear.

"You know why." I bite my lips as you caress my body in both areas. "We can't -"

"Yes we can." You insist pushing against my spot with your middle finger. You bury your face in the crook of my neck taking in my scent and planting kisses all over me.

"Don't you know how much I want you?" You whisper in my ear, "Can't you tell yet, Jen?" You push more into me from behind while pushing forward from the front.

"Derek..." is all I can bear to say.

"You don't believe me, do you?" You say as your hands move together to cup my breast through my shirt. I squirm under your touches. Your left hand darts underneath my top and your right hand follows. I try not to react. I just can't let you know how bad I am wanting to give up. With one arm you hold me in place as if I would run while with your other you pull my shirt up over my head and toss it away outside of my reach. You walk around to face me. Your sweet eyes have changed. The normal calmness has been replaced with something else, something wild like waves building before a tsunami. I see your apparent arousal bulging out at me, throbbing.

I can't describe the feeling that takes over me then or why I didn't run when you removed your own shirt. Instead I close the distance between us. My hands needing to feel your body, needing touch your skin even before you have the chance to toss your shirt aside. I don't even know where it landed just that it did. This time, I taste your lips fully as we kiss and embrace.

My bra is no longer with me as you gently lay me down on your bed. The cotton sheet cool to the touch and familiar. Your hands are now my bra, a perfect fit of flesh. Your nose drawing a trail of desire across my neck and shoulder. Your adoration leading down and on my welcoming breast. First the right one then her sister. You're an equal opportunity lover. Air exits my lips and larynx. You hover over me for a second before kissing me deep. You're so devious using your sweet lips to distract me from your true intent. My first passionate exhale is lost between our mouths as your true nature reveals itself to me. I am a little embarrassed that you know.

But it only affirms your confidence.

It's not like you planned this out. You honestly did not plan this, this way. But it no longer matters. What matters is that you are right. She wants you just as much as you want her. Thank god she stopped fighting your advances. And god her arousal was mutual. You savor the wetness between her smooth legs. Her own was a molten lava pool. And then she finally lets herself go. Her voice was more seductive than anything you imagined during those late night sessions. Once you hear it, you want to hear more. Slipping your hand down inside her shorts you're amused to find that it's more than you think. Your fingers have gone gooey, a good gooey. Holy shit! She's hot!!

Feeling braver than before, you remove her shorts and drink in the sight of the beauty laying on your bed. Well worth an art exhibition as is. You find yourself excited and a little afraid of what's to come but it won't stop you, just halt you a little. You reluctantly pull away from her embrace and in one swift and continuous moment kiss her lips not hesitating to savor her juices.

She sings you praises that drive your actions.

There's no doubt now as you sample her greedily.

My head sinks into your bed as my hands grope your sheet. Warmth rushes through my body. Why can't I grab onto anything? Something, anything! Before I know it my fingers are combing through your hair, slightly tugging every time you make me gasp. This only seems to encourage you and I don't mind. Not. One. Bit. My legs bend up beside you. I try not to put you in a triangle choke but you're making it very difficult. Out of curiosity, I look down at you and watch with utter fascination at your dedication. You look up at me and your eyes tell me what I've been trying to deny. We agree silently. You stand and I relax aimming to catch my breath.

I sit up on the bed as you bend to kiss me with your wet mouth. It's too late now to think about Mary. She'll have to understand. There's no denying how we feel, what we want. I reach for you stroking along your budge. It's your turn to be breathless. You shutter as I return the favor of undressing you. You watch your pants fall to the floor. I kiss you through your boxers, my hand tracing an outline, tracking the heat. My other hand hooking the band of your last article of clothing. It joins your pants on the floor. Your eyes close in ecstasy as wet meets hotness. The irresistible ripples in your body from my lips, my tongue. Your knees threaten to buckle as you inhale and exhale running your fingers through my hair. I like what I'm hearing. You encourage me with a gentle yet firm push forward. That's all it takes for me to savor your length.

I'm almost confused as you pull me off my knees, almost. We kissed again letting our juices join in our mouths. My legs bumps against you bed and you flawlessly position us so that I can fully understand what I do to you, what I am doing to you. Your eyes daring me yet reassuring me that there's still time to turn away. Your hand on my waist tells me that you won't exactly let me bolt.

I don't want to leave though.

And now skin touches skin. Hot in wet. My hands on either of your shoulder. Our bodies in a rocking wave motion of perpetual ups and downs. The cool air dancing wildly with the stem of our rhythmic union. My hair a mess. Your face between my mounds of burning flesh. Your lips clamped on one, your busy hand reassuring the other. We exchange moans, grunts and veneration to a deity neither of us can tangibly see. My hands pressed their impressions into your flesh and your impressions are deep inside me. I kiss you hotly.

I can't believe it's really happening. It feels so right, so good.

I lean forward and you hold me before you pump away faster than before. I call out unable to remain silent. My mind beginning to burn with the fever that has invaded my body.

"I'm going to-" I am barely able to express what will be.

You swap places with me and let me lay on your moistened bed. My chest rising and falling with deep breaths. You clasped your hand together behind my neck not missing a beat in our rhythm. I try to control myself. I can't. But you're relentless, you're determined. Our foreheads meet. Our hot breathes become one. Your hands holding my legs against my body. You drive forward without restraint and I try not to break. Your eyes hold my own lost in each other, obvious to the world outside your room.

"..for me, Jen." You grunt lowly, "c'mon baby...all over.."

"...stop... don't Derek, don'tstop..."

"..won't"

"Please don't. ...make me...ye...sss"

"Gawd.. ye...sss"

"O...mak...me kuh..."

No regrets. Our voices rang out in unison. There would be no going back. Our bodies sinking in place. Your head resting on my chest, mind on your bed.