The Porch

She sat across from me, tilting her head back in full laughter. I was mesmerized by the shape of her shoulders, how her skin stretched across her collarbone and up her neck. I was smiling, enjoying every minute with her. Her laughter echoed passed the porch we were sitting on. It was in this moment that I realized I loved her.

Her smile reached me in all my dark places. It illuminated the parts of me that I had long kept shut away from the world. I let her giggle wrap me up in a full embrace, and I felt home. She continued to smile and caught me falling in love with her all over again. I felt a little embarrassed; because I was sure I loved her more than she loved me. Even on a platonic level. I wanted her, physically.

The air hung heavy between us, the humidity soaking us to the bones. I hated every minute of it, but I loved the glow that appeared on her skin. I would wait until I couldn't resist her sweet smell. The sun began to set, lighting up the porch and bathing her in orange. Shadows danced across her frame caused by her own features. Her eyelids were hanging low, the alcohol infecting her bloodstream. How lucky it was to be inside her.

She reached for her beer, the condensation wetting her fingers. I felt my body tense up in pleasure at the sight. She kept her eyes on mine as she brought the tip of the bottle to her lips, and she tilted her head back. This time she was slower, more deliberate, knowing that I was watching. She sat her beer back down, realizing her fingers were soaked.

I reached across the table, wrapping my hand delicately around her wrist. I could feel her pulse speed up as I pulled her closer to me. I loved the way her mouth hung slightly open in anticipation, waiting for me to make my move. I slowly uncurled her fingers, before placing my lips around one of them. I sucked her index finger into my mouth, wrapping my tongue around her. I wanted it around all of her.

I watched her irises dilate, indicating that her body was reacting in just the precise way I wanted her to. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, pressing her skin against her teeth. I envied it for a moment until I realized I could do it too. I stood up, still with her finger between my lips. I nibbled on the fleshy tips, watching her thighs part on the chair.

I stood in front of her, tilting her hand back and kissing her palm. She rested her head on the back of the chair, her eyes lazily closing, letting herself relax. She inhaled sharply, before letting out a long exhale. I placed long, wet kisses along her wrists, watching her every move. I was nearly to her elbow before she reached for my thigh.

Her nails dug into my skin, causing small moans to fill the tiny spaces between her sweaty skin and my pursed lips. I gave up on her arm and pushed her hair behind her shoulder, letting my kisses dissipate and turn into aggressive bites on her neck and shoulder. She stood up, in the same motion removing my dress. I stood naked in front of her.

I loved the droplets of sweat falling down her chest; I wanted to kiss her entire body. She wrapped her hand in my hair, tugging at the back of my neck. I gasped and she placed her mouth around my bottom lip. The sensation of her wet tongue drove me insane. It was still hot and muggy outside, but I had goose bumps.

I pinned her against the side of the house, the only thing between our nude bodies her dress. I pulled at the tiny strap, letting it fall off the side of her shoulder. I ran my fingertips lightly over the curve of her shoulder, memorizing the constellations of freckles she had gained over the years. They were random but somehow deliberate. I hoped she thought the same about my kisses. As my mouth met her skin, she pressed her hips into mine, and I was eager to taste how sweet she was. I loved the moments leading up to it, too.

I kissed along her shoulders, my hand grabbing her breast through the fabric. She moaned, and it only made me more aggressive. I found her nipple and pinched slightly, and she ran her nails down my back. I fumbled for the buttons that ran down the front of her dress. I found an easy way of undoing each of them with one hand, which allowed for the other one to squeeze various parts of her.

Soon the sun was hiding behind the trees, and we were surrounded by a blue dusk. The temperature was the same, but I think we helped with that. My mouth moved down her collarbone onto her exposed breast. She reached for mine, and I moaned as she pinched my nipple a little harder than I did to her. Cicadas began screaming off in the distance, our own soundtrack to displaying our bodies.

It was dusk now, and our bare bodies lie heaving on the porch. The air remained thick late into the evening, our mouths somehow dry. I traced small circles along the top of her collar bone as she exhaled long and slow. Her breasts were just beautiful shapes in the dark, but if I concentrated I could make out her erect nipples. The wood of the porch beneath us pressed into our bones as we silently recovered.

In the moments after it all there was so much I wanted to say. Orgasms and alcohol made both of our inhibitions disappear but this wasn't the first time. I thought about how to tell her how I loved her. I wanted her to be mine, in every since of the word. The feeling that entered my body when I thought about the way to tell her this was fear. Fear that she'll say no, that I had it all wrong. I didn't want to lose her.

She sat up, searching for her dress in the dark. Her spine pressed against her skin, like Braille down her back. I wanted to kiss every inch of her. She stood up, and put her dress on, awkwardly buttoning down the front. I reached and wrapped my hand around her calf, and I heard a small giggle escape her lips. I stood with her, and when my eyes met hers, I brushed her hair behind her ear. Sparks were going off everywhere.

"I want to tell you so much," was all that I could say.

Her eyes closed, and she replied, "I know."

She grabbed the empty bottles, and the sound of the glass meeting echoed through the quiet darkness. I told her I loved her, I told her and she didn't respond. She fumbled with the screen door, and my "I love you" was followed by the sound of a bouncing screen door on a back porch.