Take Me With You(70)
“Thanks for the ride!” a girl says, slamming the car door behind her. She's got on a short dress and little boots with heels. Her hair is straight and long past her elbows. She jogs into the house. I peer just enough to see her enter the living room and kiss her mother and father, before disappearing from the room again. Seconds later, a light switches on upstairs. It’s like fresh meat being waved in front of a dog, I have to have my fill. I run back, hiding behind a tree so I can get a better view of what's up there. I see hints of her at the window, but I'm too low. Desperate to get a better look, I climb the massive tree, its mature branches extending close to the house. I choose one and park myself on it, hidden by the dense foliage.
She's still in her dress, but she's kicked off her boots. She's giggling on the phone with someone, twirling the long cord around her finger as she lies on her bed. I wonder what she's saying and who's on the other line. Is it a girl? A boyfriend? I've never really had friends. Definitely not a girlfriend. I think I could be a good boyfriend if she gave me a chance. I pretend I'm on the other line, muttering things to her and pretending the reaction I see through the window is to my words.
“Why don't I take you out to the movies tomorrow?”
“We'll get dinner first. Wherever you want to go?”
“Is that what you want to do to me? But your parents will be home.”
While I'm up there watching this pretty girl, I forget about the solitude. This is no different than opening a book, or turning on the TV. That's not true, it's better. This experience is one of a kind and in the flesh. Time disappears up here until she hangs up, and I have to end the conversation. It snaps me out of my state, but I wait for what's next.
She sits up, looking at her vanity, the mirror edges bordered with polaroids of her huge social circle. She reaches back, twisting around to reach for her zipper. My heart and stomach dance in anticipation for the show. Finally, her fingertips find it and she drags it down. The dress parts to show her small back, and she bends over to slide it off. Underneath, she has a lacy bra, two small thin triangles covering her small chest. Below, she has on pale yellow panties. She opens a drawer and pulls out an old t-shirt, placing it on the bed. Then she reaches back to unclip her bra. I let out a breath as she reveals her breasts. I've seen breasts in magazines Scooter slipped me, but nothing is like the real thing.
Hers are small, very small, barely coming off her chest, but the nipples are puffy and my dick aches at the sight of them. Her hip bones peek out from the waist of her panties. She's very delicate and smooth. I know all the things I would do to that body if I could. But no matter how satisfying the illusion, it's still not the real thing. I can't go in there and suck her little tits. So instead, I reach down to the urge that never seems to quiet and grab it. Under my breath I urge her to wait on putting on her t-shirt until I finish. As if connected to my thoughts, she stands in front of the mirror, and runs her hands through her hair. Admiring her own body, a hand makes its way to her little breast and she softly pinches her own nipple. I didn't know girls did this. Touched themselves like boys do. She takes her other hand and places it over her panties.
My dick tenses up, I bite down on my lip so as not to moan. This is the most intense it's ever felt. For the hundreds of times I've jacked off, this is different. I am not alone.
I jerk my cock, holding on to the tree with the other hand so I don't fall. So close to coming. And that's when she stops and furrows her eyebrows like she senses something. She drops her hands and turns to look out the window. She squints, coming closer. I freeze, hoping that the tree will shield me. But when our eyes lock, I can see her slowly make out my outline in the darkness.
She screams at the top of her lungs. A horror movie type scream. I scale down that tree as fast as I can. I'm booking through their yard and into the woods before I even know what's happening next. I run through the untamed trees and fallen logs, the many nights my father forced this upon me, a lesson I never knew I needed. I get a satisfaction knowing this was never his intention. This is my rebellion.
I run and run until I am back on our property, but as I near the house, I remember my bike is right by the road. If the police come, it could be suspicious. I cut back and grab it, riding it all the way back to my house. I wait at the porch for a few seconds to calm my breathing. Mom can't know I was out. I slip through the front door, up the old stairs that anyone else would cause to creak, but not me, I've learned how to move in silence. I slip into my bed, and when I lie down, the jitters hit. I laugh to myself that I pulled it off. My heart still quivers at the thrill. At the image of that girl touching herself. I grab my dick to finish the job, still riding high off of the adventure.
Now that dad is gone, the night is mine.
This pregnancy hasn't been easy. My morning sickness has been violent and unrelenting. My breasts persistently throb and I am always exhausted. Ironically, Sam has been the one to take care of me, spending nights here and taking me to the pond whenever he can. Floating in that cool water seems to help me recover from the rough mornings. He doesn't blindfold me, and he gave me a pair of shoes so I can walk alongside him. Discreetly, I've paid attention to the path. He changes it around a little bit every time, sometimes walking us in circles, but every day I get a little better at figuring out how to get to the water.
Sometimes he leaves me for hours, but now he tells me via notes why: work. He's out there, in the world, working, probably interacting with people and they don't have the slightest idea of who he is.