Her words glared at me. Even if they'd been in bold, italicized, flashing text, they couldn't have been more clear.
She'd
said it
. I felt it, but she
revealed it
. I felt incredible joy as I typed the next four words but dreaded the rest.
I love you, too! But this can't end well. I'm graduating in a few weeks and moving a lot farther away.
There was another long delay.
I know. But whenever it is, it's going to hurt to say goodbye. Can you come back again? One more time?
I can, but I'm not sure if I want to. Can I think about it?
A few moments later, the system indicated she'd signed out. It was so out of the ordinary for Sunny to not say a farewell. I realized my horribly worded response had seriously hurt her.
I was awake all night. I couldn't sleep. I anguished over what I should do.
Sunny was correct. There was no easy ending. If I'd said goodbye right then, it would have hurt. If I said goodbye in another week, it would still be painful. But I realized a final fantastic weekend with her could precede what we both knew was coming anyway. It could be an intermission preceding an already inevitable end.
The next day, I fell asleep in two classes which was something I'd never done before. After dinner, I logged on. She wasn't there. I waited for a few hours, but she never came online. I sent her an offline message.
Sunny, I really needed to think. I shouldn't have said I wasn't sure if I want to see you again, because I do.
I should've said I wasn't sure if I SHOULD see you again. There's a difference.
I'm sorry I said it that way. I'm sorry I upset you. But thinking did me a lot of good. I realized you are right, and I'd really like to see you again this weekend. One more time. If that's okay with you, let me know. It's your choice.
I logged in the next morning, but there was no answer to the message. Still none that evening.
Finally, an answer was in my mailbox on Wednesday night. My thumb hovered over the space bar as I debated whether or not to open it. I felt like both Schrödinger and his cat.
I opened it.
Yes! But now you can't come Friday because I have to work late. Come Saturday morning. Thank you!!! :* :* :*
It felt like Saturday took forever to arrive. I drove away from my campus at 4:00am to ensure I arrived at Sunny's before the "permitted" hours. I sat in my car in a parking lot for twenty minutes until right before 9:00am.
I finally knocked on her door, and
damn
, she looked good. She was seriously "cutie-pied." She was wearing wonderfully snug white denim shorts and a green V-neck tee. She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail tied with a ribbon.
Before I could finish taking mental pictures, she grabbed me by my shirt, pulled me into her room, shut the door, and kissed me more fiercely than any kiss I'd ever experienced. I lost track of time while holding and squeezing and petting and kissing that beautiful woman.
I can't recall everything we did that day, but somehow, we managed to fill it. I remember playing cards while we talked. I played with her hair and made her laugh a lot by doing goofy things with it. I remember how I managed to wreck it pretty badly, but she seemed so totally okay needing to spend twenty minutes repairing it as beautifully as it had looked when I'd arrived. We talked. We talked a lot. I remember pouncing on her after lunch and tickling her to the point she screamed so loudly someone knocked on her door. Sunny convinced the knocker she thought she'd seen a mouse.
I sat on the floor, and she straddled my torso to sit in my lap. She held herself close to me with her arms and legs wrapped around me. We embraced each other fiercely and kissed. We kissed until our lips were sore.
And we talked some more. We went to dinner. And guess what? We talked there, too. But as much as we conversed, we never broached the subject of an ending. It was obvious neither of us was willing to touch the topic with a ten-foot pole. But it gnawed at me how, in all likelihood, I had only about twelve hours remaining in the wonderful escape.
As we drove back to her complex, I asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to go to the Best Western?"
It was the hotel I'd stayed at the prior Friday night and where Dork was abandoned by himself for twenty-four hours.
Sunny studied my face in thought. "Yeah. I'm sure. But we'd better hurry up. It's almost nine."
When we arrived at her suite, I asked, "Where's your posse?"
"My what?"
"Your security posse. Your suitees." I re-used the word and pointed at the adjoining door.
"Oh. I don't know. I begged the hell out of them to make themselves scarce."
I had no intentions at all asking more questions about it.
She excused herself for a minute carrying nothing but some pajama bottoms. She returned carrying nothing but her denim shorts. She politely turned her back, so I didn't mind her being in the room as I changed out of my jeans and into some sleep shorts.
She locked the door, removed her shirt and bra, then led me to her bed. I stopped her and held her at arm's length studying her bare chest in the full light of the room. Her breasts again stunned me. They were … awesome. They were inches from my hands, and then they weren't as I cupped them and fondled her, feeling their weight, texture, warmth, and their succulent nipples.
She pushed me aggressively to her bed and climbed on top of me.
She pressed her open pelvis into me, grinding firmly against me. I had to draw my knees up a little to reduce the pressure she was putting on my erection because she was using so much force it actually hurt.
She ground. She groaned. She took my hands and pressed them to her tits.
"Oh … what's happ—Oh jeez …
oh
!" she whispered as her grinding picked up pace.
"Oh,
god
!" she gasped.
Her eyes flew open then clamped closed and she stopped moving. She was pressing my hands to her breasts so forcefully my fingertips and her flesh under them paled. It was all very, very new to me. Her face looked like she was in extreme distress. I was about to panic until she collapsed onto my chest and began breathing again.
"Oh, Gary! You got me so … I am so … I swear to god I've never … I'm sorry, but it felt so good and I didn't know what was happening and I couldn't help myself!"
All the past-tense words bounced in my head, and I wondered if she'd had an orgasm by dry-humping me.
"You have nothing to be sorry about, baby."
Baby
?! Why the hell did I say that?!
I wanted to feel her skin against mine, so I gently nudged her off me so I could take off my tee. She settled herself comfortably with her left shoulder under my right arm, tracing her fingers through the hair on my chest. She nuzzled her nose into me and sighed. I felt the hair move with her breath. I could feel her breast pressed into me. She hooked her right thigh across my pelvis. I knew she felt my hardness because she rearranged herself so her leg wasn't atop it.
She rested comfortably on me as I stroked whatever bare skin my hands could reach. I loved feeling her skin respond to my caresses, and I loved the sound of her breath as it changed subtly with my touch. It made me feel wonderful she was feeling good.
After a few minutes, she scooched up a foot or so and offered a breast to me. I happily suckled it. She rolled to her right, onto her back, and I followed, rolling to my side to take her other nipple between my lips.
Her left thigh went atop and across my curled legs. We were very comfortably intertwined. I softly stroked her breasts and felt the subtle ridges of muscles in her firm, taut tummy.
When my hand reached the elastic of her shorts, I moved one palm's-width lower, feeling the warmth through the soft fabric. She didn't stop my hand, but I felt compelled to ask her for permission.
"Can I … touch you?"
"Yes," she whispered and nodded. "You can."
I had no earthly idea what I was doing, but I knew I didn't want to frighten or hurt her. I simply lowered my hand farther and nestled my palm into the fleece between her legs. My mind almost exploded. I was holding a gorgeous woman's crotch in my hand, and I could feel her heat. Her shorts were very warm and humid in the center. I gently massaged her there. I traced her contours with my fingers softly brushing her. She opened her legs wider, and I explored her, feeling, learning.
I stroked her inner thigh, slipped my hand into the leg of her shorts, and felt the crotch of her panties. The thin material was sodden. The sensation of touching wet panties made me so aroused I thought my dick was going to rupture. I could feel hair hidden under the expanse of fabric. I could feel with my fingertips the coarse strands which had escaped the elastic.
