No Talking

Author's note: Someone asked for a story where the characters never speak, and to write it from the female perspective. This is my clunky attempt.

As a male, not talking comes naturally, but the female point of view? An enduring mystery.

Warning: this is "a sweet non-con", very tame compared to other stories in this category.

Everyone is at least 18. Constructive criticism welcome.

~~~~

Another uncomfortable college party. Camilla nursed her drink, bobbing her head to the music, feigning enjoyment. She felt like a fool in her skirt and best blouse. Everyone else wore jeans or yoga pants, t-shirts or tight spaghetti-strap tops.

Third drink, she thought. Better slow down or I'll find myself in trouble.

Camilla didn't even know whose house they were in, but her friends insisted it would be a blast.

"Everyone will be there," her friend had said. "The guy's parents are away, so we have the whole house to wreck. Great chance to find someone. You haven't been laid since high school."

Camilla didn't want to wreck anyone's house, and the last thing she wanted was to wind up as some frat boy's conquest for the night. She simply wanted to find a nice guy. She broke up with her boyfriend back home last October when the distance and their changing lives made it seem pointless. Now February, all she did was study, hang out with her friends, and avoid being dragged to parties.

The living room was too bright and the music too loud. She had spent most of the evening with her friends, sipping coolers, trying to talk over the music. Camilla and her friends were all chatty. They joked and gossiped, and when a song they knew came on, they sang along at the top of their lungs. When her friends up to dance, Camilla begged out, feeling self-conscious and wobbly from the booze. She moved to a corner to spot anyone else she knew.

Camilla hoped that maybe... yes! He was across the room. How had she missed him? Stuart. Super cute, funny Stuart who sat up front in English Lit.

In class, Stuart always had a smart remark or funny spin on questions he asked the professor. She found herself fixated on him from the first day. Something about how he held himself. He wasn't full of himself, but wasn't shy either. Maybe it was the soft looking sweaters, or his big sneakers. She didn't know. But Camilla watched him through each class, straining to listen to everything he said. She noticed him whenever he walked by on campus or in a corridor. She wondered where he was from, what he was like.

Camilla had never spoken to him. Her friend knew one of his friends, and just once they had all hung out in the cafeteria. Stuart had sat at the far end of their table, but she caught him sneaking glances at her. Was something wrong with how she looked? Had someone said something bad about her? No, it was probably just her. She was well aware how she compared to her pretty, outgoing friends.

Why couldn't she be as confident as Stuart looked? Inside, Camilla felt like she was still back home in high school, self-conscious, overwhelmed. The only relief then was the times she could sneak away with her boyfriend to talk or for awkward sex in his basement rec room. Their couplings were nothing great—they were each other's first and hadn't learned how to please each other or themselves. What Camilla missed most was the cuddling and warm comfort of their talks afterwards.

She saw Stuart was in trouble. Camilla didn't know many people on campus, but she knew Deirdre. She was large. She was loud. She always wore sleeveless black dresses. And most days she needed better deodorant. Stuart stood in the opposite corner as Deirdre shouted in his ear, possessively touching his arm. He was smiling politely and nodding, but his eyes darted, eager to escape.

I can do this, thought Camilla, I really can.

She downed the rest of her drink, worked her way around the crowd and tapped Deirdre on the shoulder. Camilla waved hello and gestured toward Stuart.

"He owes me a dance," she shouted, but regretted it. Her throat stung from shouting all night with her friends. Deirdre was about to object, but Camilla grabbed Stuart's hand and pulled him into the crowd of dancing partiers.

Stuart mouthed a thank-you for the rescue. When Camilla smiled and mouthed, "You're welcome," he took both her hands and started dancing.

Camilla tried to find the beat and look like she could dance. The alcohol helped loosen her movements. She was nervous. Had she really done that? Did he even remember her? Would he think she was another pushy woman trying to force her attention on him? Camilla wanted to find somewhere to talk.

Stuart looked at her with a confident smile, his warm hands holding hers. When a new song came on, a cheer went up and more people crushed onto the dance floor, pushing Camilla and Stuart together from all sides. He shrugged and pressed himself close, putting his arms loose around her waist with an apologetic half-smile. They stood nose-to-nose, looking at each other and swaying to the deafening beat.

They danced through one more song, and Stuart leaned forward and said "Dwamna... gshh..." He held his throat and grimaced. Camilla guessed he had also spent most of the evening shouting.

He pointed to the hallway with a questioning expression. Camilla nodded eagerly and was thrilled when he pulled her out of the crowd.

Camilla rubbed her ears in the relative quiet of the front hall. Stuart seemed relieved too. It seemed neither of them were partiers, but Camilla had already guessed that about him.

Stuart tried to speak but again only a croak and a hiss emerged. He touched his throat and looked apologetic. Camilla tried to reply but had the same results—a hoarse croak that hurt like hell. They both hissed in laughter at their painful predicament.

There was a den or library on the other side of the hall. Camilla took Stuart's hand and led him inside the doorway. It was dim inside, but she saw it was occupied. One couple lay on the couch kissing and pawing each other. In a corner another girl was bent over the arm of a recliner as a guy stood behind, fucking her.

Camilla gasped. She heard stories of what went on at college parties, but never expected to see people screwing in plain sight. She looked to Stuart and saw his disgust mirrored her own. They backed into the hallway to search for another place to be alone.

The basement was one long room. At the bottom of the stairs was a carpeted area with guys spacing out on couches watching videos and passing around a joint. The skunky stink filled the room. They walked past a pool table with two drunk couples trying to play. At the far end of the room were bookshelves and a door. Camilla tried the handle: locked. Stuart examined it and found a paper clip on a nearby bookshelf. He unfurled it and stuck an end into a hole in the doorknob. The lock popped. Stuart looked inside and, checking behind them that no one was looking, pulled Camilla with him into the room.

Camilla giggled at his audacity. It was so naughty! Inside, enough light came through the high window to see it was a guest bedroom. There was a twin bed, nightstand and dresser. Boxes filled one corner and two sets of skis leaned in another. Stuart closed the door and locked the handle.

They sat beside each other on the bed. The room was cool and smelled like linen and musty basement. The ceiling shook with the thump of the music and dancers stomping. Even through the ceiling, the music was loud.

Camilla was uneasy about being in the room without permission. The owners must have locked it to keep out guests. Well, they were only there to get away from the crowd and talk. She would make sure they left it undisturbed.

She turned to Stuart. "Eraw awk gruuk," she started to say, but it felt like she had swallowed razors.

Great, she thought. I've got this great guy alone and I've completely lost my voice.

Stuart smiled and tried to reply, but winced with pain.

Camilla reached over to turn on the bedside lamp, but he stopped her, pointing to the gap at the bottom of the door.

Right, Camilla thought. Someone will see the light.

When she turned back to Stuart, he surprised her by pressing his lips to hers.

Camilla was wide-eyed in disbelief, but soon kissed him back. He tasted of beer and smelled masculine and enticing.

Stuart leaned back and searched Camilla's eyes. He jabbed a finger to his chest, made a "V" with two fingers and pointed to his eyes, and then pointed to Camilla and made an outward sweeping motion with both hands as he looked up and around.

I think I get it, thought Camilla. 'I see you everywhere.'

Stuart pointed an index finger at her again, placed a hand over his heart and with a smile gave an emphatic thumbs-up.

'I like you... a lot,' she translated in her mind. A small thrill quickened her heart. Really? Oh my God... he likes me!

Finally, Stuart pinched two fingers of each hand together as if grabbing an elastic, stretching his arms wide and then tapping his watch.

'A big... no. A long time.' Camilla smiled when she got it. Wow, if she ever she played charades she wanted Stuart on her team. Then realization of everything he said sunk in. Despite the chill of the room, it ignited a heat in her chest.

Camilla tried her own pantomime. She longed to tell him how she felt, how much she liked him, what she hoped... so many things! But she was excited, nervous, and a little drunk. Stuart watched her, his forehead creased with concentration as Camilla gestured wildly.

Every time he shook his head or shrugged with confusion, she became more frustrated and more self-conscious. She needed words. She was good with words.

Finally, Camilla gave up and simply pointed at him, put her hands over her heart and smiled.

Stuart understood that. He pulled her into a deep kiss, sliding one hand behind her neck. She returned it with equal passion and noticed an embarrassing squirmy feeling between her legs.

She tried to hug him, but it was awkward sitting side-by-side on the little bed. Kissing him was fantastic, but she wanted to get closer.

When Stuart cupped her breast and massaged it, Camilla was surprised. She was about to guide his hand away but it felt good. She didn't want to seem like an inexperienced schoolgirl and wanted to give him something for admitting his feelings about her and her frustrating failure to communicate with him.

He liked her! All these months she had been sneaking glimpses of him, wondering about him, feeling too plain and childish ever to be attractive to a guy who had everything so together. He had been watching her? Why hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't he approached her? It struck her: was he shy too? Did he feel as uncertain and unappealing as she did? But he was so cute! He had to know that, didn't he?

He didn't seem shy now as he kneaded her boob and combed his fingers through her hair while they kissed. Camilla longed to tell him how she felt, and find out everything about him: where he was from, what other courses he was taking, why he had been watching her and not said anything, but even trying to form a word was painful. It was frustrating, but talking would have to wait.

Camilla then realized she was laying on her back on the bed with Stuart half on top of her, still kissing her passionately, still doing wonderful things to her breast. When did that happen? Oh well, it was more comfortable than sitting twisted beside him.

She raked her fingers through his hair. He moaned and kissed her harder. Camilla felt happy she was able to please him.

When Stuart broke their kiss, her disappointment became excitement when he slid lower and kissed her neck and nipped her earlobe. Camilla gasped and squirmed, feeling embarrassed at the warmth and growing slickness below. She shouldn't be so turned on. It was just kissing. But it had been so long since she was with her old boyfriend. As awkward and unsatisfying as that had been, she missed it.

Outside, someone rattled the doorknob and knocked.

They froze and held their breath. Camilla met Stuart's eyes, and they lay together, terrified to make a sound, waiting. The doorknob rattled again then whoever it was went away. Stuart grinned at Camilla, and she grinned back, sharing his relief at not being caught.

Stuart pecked Camilla on the lips and then resumed kissing her neck and feeling her boobs. Camilla realized his hand was now under her top, caressing her through her bra.

Okay, she thought, That's far enough for one night. As wonderful as it felt, she didn't want to seem easy. Stuart was just getting carried away. Boys were like that.

Before she could guide his hand out of her top, Stuart skillfully released the center clasp of her bra. The cups fell away and Camilla sucked in a breath when Stuart's warm hand enveloped the bare skin of her breast. He ran the smooth back of his hand across a nipple, sending jolts of delight straight to her damp pussy.

Oh, that feels good, thought Camilla, feeling both aroused and concerned. He's so gentle. But that's far enough. She could feel him pushing his hardness against her leg.

She struggled to sit up, and felt alarm when Stuart stayed lying across her, weighing her back on the bed, kissing her neck. Camilla pushed against him again and was relieved when he lifted himself off her.

Now he's got the message, she thought, just as Stuart slid her top up, exposing her breasts to his gaze. Her unease condensed into a twinge of fear, but then she looked at his face: Stuart shifted from staring at her bare chest to looking into her eyes. His expression was the happy, wonder-filled gaze of a boy who had just unwrapped the best birthday present ever. There was no look of conquest or even lust; just happy appreciation.

Camilla's heart leaped with excitement and pride. Her old boyfriend always complimented her boobs, but no other boy had ever seen them. Until that moment she wasn't certain he had been sincere. There was no doubting Stuart's expression as he gently swept a palm across one breast then looked at her for a reaction. When Camilla gave an involuntary intake of breath at the feeling, his little smile reappeared.

She was frozen as Stuart lowered his head to her chest and gave one breast a warm, wet lick and then latched on to nurse gently. Camilla arched her back and instinctively held him close, feeling a swell of endearment towards him. She lay back and enjoyed the sensations, stroking his hair as he sucked, massaged and teased her sensitive breasts.

She didn't want him to stop, but was afraid of what she might let him do if he didn't. Her need was growing and her hips pushed against him as he continued pressing against her leg.

Camilla gathered her strength, preparing to push him away when she felt a hand slide right under her skirt onto her bare thigh, almost touching her panty-clad pussy.

She gasped at the contact. His hand was so warm as he caressed the sensitive skin of her thigh. The need growing inside her blossomed.

His fingertips brushed against the side of her pussy for an instant, sending tantalizing pleasure through her. Camilla's hips lifted on their own, seeking firmer contact but his fingers moved away.

Stuart's attentions caused Camilla's need to surge. She was still glowing from his silent admission he had been watching her, that he liked her. Now she was alone with him, and he was focused completely on her.

Her elation, the thumping beat from above, the fogginess from chugging her last drink, her escalating need and the nagging worry about being caught all swirled within her. It was too much, too soon. She had to get up, gather her thoughts, get back to her friends. Imagine their surprise when she showed off Stuart to them, but she chastised herself for thinking of him like a prize she had won instead of a...

Stuart moved on top of her, lifting her skirt up and pushing her legs apart. His jeans were rough against the skin of her inner thighs and his hard crotch pressed directly against her panty-covered mound. He kissed her again, and Camilla discovered her arms were wrapped around him as if welcoming his bold move.

Camilla felt surrounded by him. The weight of him, his intense attentions, the grinding of the rough jeans against her aching pussy, his shirt against her bare breasts started dangerous images to form: a dreamy vision of them naked, her accepting him inside her, making love, then her on top grinding against him as he held her breasts while they gazed into each other's eyes.

She shuddered. Camilla wanted all that to happen, but later, once they knew each other better.

I'm not going to screw any guy the first time I'm with him, she thought, even Stuart, wonderful as he is. If things work out, I'll get on birth control so we can do it properly.

Camilla had only used condoms with her boyfriend back home. The need to pause right at the heat of the moment, the fumbling, the chemical smell, and the rubbing feeling inside were all so distasteful.

Our first time together will be natural, she thought. Without anything between us.

While she basked in that image, Camilla felt Stuart lift himself and reach between them. He slid his fingers past the leg of her panties and touched her bare pussy. Camilla gasped at the thrilling sensation. She automatically pushed her hips back against the caressing hand. She was concerned she was letting Stuart go too far and was embarrassed how wet she was. Doubts about her self-control rose and then faded as the delightful sensations from Stuart caressing of her most intimate place swept through her.

She needed to stop him, and if he was anyone else, Camilla was sure she would have. But Stuart was so sweet, so nice, and what they were doing was so naughty. She had never been so aroused. She burned with need and longing stronger than ever before.

I'll just... let him have this and enjoy it for another minute, she thought and gasped when he touched her in a new wonderful way she couldn't quite figure out. It's been so long. Just a few minutes and I'll stop him. I don't want him to think I'm some timid little girl. We'll go back to kissing. Maybe get out of here and join the party.

Her growing heat and excitement sparked the first feelings of orgasm. Camilla wondered if he could make her come. No one had ever done that. With her boyfriend, a few minutes of kissing, a few honks of her boob, and he expected her to be ready to go. He was never as gentle and attentive as Stuart was being. Nor as skillful.

Camilla sighed with pleasure and clutched Stuart to her as he kissed and touched her. She felt herself becoming lost in her growing need. At least he still had his pants on. In her early virginal fumblings with her boyfriend, she had one iron rule: one of them had to keep their pants on. Camilla was sure that had saved her from pregnancy many times.

When Stuart pulled his hand out of her underwear, Camilla reached down, trying to find his hand and guide it back, but he was pressed tight against her and was wriggling. When he stopped, he shifted and she felt something hard pressing into her. With her hand, Camilla felt Stuart's bare ass and lowered jeans. It was his naked penis poking into her through her panties.

Okay, that was too much. Stuart must think she's on birth control, she thought, like most girls at the college. Camilla chastised herself for not getting a prescription when her friends insisted, but she didn't have a boyfriend anymore... why did she need it?

At the exact moment Camilla pushed back on Stuart, trying to get him off her, he pulled the gusset of her panties aside and rubbed himself against her naked pussy.

"Mmmmm," Camilla hummed. That felt so much better than his fingers, especially when he pulled her panties further to the side and slid himself up through her wet folds and across her clit. He repeated several times that and Camilla wriggled in delight, hugging him to her.