Those Days

This is my first submission to Literotica, a short story that barely met the minimum requirement of 750 words. It was written in about thirty minutes, entirely unbeta'd and unedited, and was more or less a spur of the moment thing. I'll let the content speak for itself, but there is nothing particularly graphic about the story. I suppose felt I should at least contribute something to a site I joined. I may get around to posting something serial, but for now, it's just this random one-shot.

Comments and constructive criticism are both welcomed and appreciated.

The feel of her back, flush against his slightly underdeveloped chest was amazing. He flourished in the warmth they shared, though the cool tones of her skin left no questions in his mind about who was providing that warmth. A contented yawn haphazardly escaped his mouth, stirring up a wisp of the slightly frazzled black hair that laid in front of his nose.

Almost unwillingly, his hand escaped from the lover's grasp he held around her waist. He covered his mouth out of habit, despite the fact that the yawn had long since passed. With his strange feelings of courtesy appeased, he wanted nothing more than to bury his nose into her neckline, but knew that would only succeed in awakening her. The softened lines of her feminine jaw tempted him unsuccessfully, but his will-power crushed the temptation with a startling amount of force. The insomnia-inspired bags beneath her eyes were nearly invisible now, but he would not spoil the sanctity of her often-sought sleep.

"Insomnia?" He silently questioned. He had no idea who this girl was, much less an idea of her sleep habits. Her flawed beauty hounded him with questions that were begging to be answered. Who was she? Did he know her? Their position in the bed was hardly that of two strangers or anything less than surprisingly intimate. He couldn't recall sharing a similar pose with anyone, ever. The feeling of her skin pressed against his was addictive, nearly sinful. With every deep breath she took, he further relished in the change in pressure against him. Despite his normal paranoia, pushing the foreign woman away was a thought that never entered his mind.

His right ear met the pillow they shared once more and he laid there, still trying to figure out where to place the arm that he had recently set free. As a somewhat introverted twenty year old, he could count all of his experiences in physical love on one hand. Never in those encounters had he been with a woman that seemed even remotely similar. He had seen the slight crease over her brow, an honest sign that she was at least a few years his senior. Her skin was still smooth and unmarred by age, but had lost some of the youthful shimmer that his peers wore with pride. Running a finger gently along her side, he realized that she was particularly slim in both the bust and hips. She hardly fit the image of his dream girl, but his interest in her was nearly electric. He could see the flashes of their intimacy in his mind's eye; they threatened to overwhelm him at an alarming rate. The restless need that he could see eminating from her in his memory was a new sensation, but not at all an unpleasant one.

He could almost feel her hips grinding against him at an obscene pace. She had been the one to take control, he knew, because his awkward attempts to match her rhythm were met by looks of self-assured disdain on her part. The slight swelling of her bust had brushed his face more than once, but every chance to taste her skin had been ripped away from him in a frustratingly quick fashion. He had finally managed to comfortably wrap an arm around the base of her back as the vision, no, glimpse into that night faded.

By the time he shook himself from those thoughts, he was sparsely astonished by the feel of his erection. He was, however, slightly surprised that he could feel it against a bare, smooth thigh that belonged to the woman pressed against him. Even more surprising was the sleepy smile that he could see tugging against the upward side of her mouth. He had no time to register the fact that he was awake before his length was in her somewhat rough grasp, being somewhat awkwardly guided. He felt the slight pressure of her skin parting and the dryness in his mouth would scarcely allow him to let his tongue wet his lips.

He let out a startled gasp of pleasure and disappointment as the fuzzy swarm of white walls entered his awakening vision. In a burst of unlikely energy, his feet were already hitting the floor's soft beige carpetting in a mechanical rush. The blanket was wrestled away from his bed with ease and the sheets were collected as quickly as possible. His actions were neither suprising nor unusual, for he was all too aware that this was another of those mundane days.

Finite.