This isn't a true story. It almost could be true, but unfortunately, it is not. This story is merely a fantasy I had between a very good friend of mine and myself that I wrote. She's a very nice girl (never been kissed) and would never do the stuff that I'm about to write about, but a boy can dream. I, obviously, developed a bit of a crush on her by the end of my sophomore year but I doubt if the feelings were ever returned. Who knows right? Ours is a story of acknowledgement of an undeniable attraction. Here it is, the highly possible, "Daydream Lover."
It's the end of the year. The freshmen in my mom's class are antsy waiting for the last couple of days to end, and I was antsy, wasting my days off as a senior in her back room, helping her pack crap up. It was second period and there I was packing boxes. I should be out in the sun, enjoying my time out of school before summer officially started (after graduation). Thank God she's here to help my mom. It's a good life, hanging out back here with her, the gorgeous college freshman. I've known her since...oh sophomore year and I'm proud to say we've developed a really nice bond that I hope doesn't ever die out. So now I'm zoning out in the backroom, taking a break with my feet propped up on the other chair...
My daydream was interrupted by something that was thankfully much better. She sashayed into the tiny room just glowing with this strong, sexy confidence. It filled the room and made my heart jump. "What's up, dude?" she said in that voice that made me smile every time as she reached into the cupboard to grab one of those Hostess cupcakes. As she stretched, her stylish, gypsy-looking white skirt rose up just above her calves. I couldn't help but admire her tanned and toned legs. I looked away and reached across my little desk to grab my water bottle.
"Nuttin' much girlie, where've you been?" I said absent-mindedly.
"Mr. Mack was flirting with me so I just
had
to talk to him! He's
so
dreamy." She said with a mischievous and sarcastic smile. The thing is, that was probably true...the flirting part I mean. She turned around and leaned forward against the counter to open her cupcake and started telling me about the awkward encounter.
To be honest I had stopped listening. I like to think I have more respect for my friends than to ogle over their bodies while they're right there (I check chicks out from a far). But this time I couldn't help it. I started from where I left off:
I looked down at what little bit of smooth leg was exposed under her skirt and slowly moved up, imaging that my eyes were my hand and I was feeling over her every curve. I could only imagine the rest of her smooth toned legs underneath the folds of that pretty white skirt. The firm calves, her shapely smooth thighs, those damned hypnotizing hips. At this point I was almost happy she wasn't facing the other way so I would have an excuse to think about that fit, round butt she had. She is a petit girl, so its not like her hips exploded from her sides with all the sex appeal of Beyonce. No, it's more like the alluring, tight hips of Jessica Alba. Her brown tank top clung to her sides as my eyes roved over her firm belly and narrow waist. Even her arms on the edges of her frame accented her body with a sexy and toned tan. Her chest, nothing to brag about, but they were perfect in my hungry eyes. My eyes slowly made it up to her delicate collarbones, framed in by her long, sandy blonde hair.
Something about collarbones just turns me on like whoa...I can't explain it. They
completely
set me ablaze...if they're on the right girl of course. "Is that weird?" I thought to myself. While pondering this, I realized she had stopped talking. With a start I looked up to her big beautiful brown eyes to find them hanging on mine. She sighed and put the half eaten cupcake down. I looked down, embarrassed. I heard the light scuffing of flip-flops and the lighter still swooshing motion that her hips gave to the skirt as she breezed towards me. Every step made my heart pound just a little heavier. I could feel my pulse in every vein of my body. Damn...she's not even into me, why does this happen?
I felt her hand on my shoulder. Well, not quite my shoulder, the hand was pressed gently close to my neck. I think the muscle is called the... "Trap"? Whatever. Her thumb was grazing my neck. Needless to say the pulsating in my veins froze. It took me until I looked up to realize I wasn't breathing. When I did, I saw she was leaned forward, dipping her shoulders down while raising her elegant neck. I wondered to myself if she realized she was giving me the most perfect view of her tanned, supple chest. Her hair all fell to one side as she tilted her head, resting her fingertips on my chest. She began to lean in...
"My parents have a beach house on Hunting Island."
Her breath was warm and sweet as it licked at my ear. The pent up air in my chest heaved out. In a flash we were leaving the school and headed towards my truck in the back of the parking lot.
Having avoided a scolding somehow, we took the drive to the beach just like good friends would. We talked back and forth and joked. She made fun of me for liking videogames and I made fun of her for loving musicals. All the while I stole glances at the way her hair floated in the wind and how natural the sun looked on her skin. I also gladly admired watching the way her chest moved whenever she heaved a sigh of contentment. Every now and then I would look over and see her glancing out
my
window for some reason before she would look away and smile, making the day brighter.
When I pulled my '96 white Ranger into the pine straw driveway of her beach house, she immediately swung the door open, tossed her flip-flops and purse up on the wrap-around porch and made a break towards the beach. Letting out a bark of a laugh I cut the car off, tossed my flip-flops over my truck and up on the porch, rolled up my jeans and walked through the trees to the ocean.
"I'm not used to seein' you run off like that haha." I yelled to her when I found her, kicking and splashing, up to her ankles in the tiny rollers. She looked cute walking around holding her skirt up like that.
"You haven't hung out with me at the beach very much then. Well there was when we all went to Costa Rica but we didn't really hang together too much on that trip did we?" she said with a bit of a smile.
"Well then, lets do this!" I roared excitedly as I yanked my shirt off, tossed my stuff on top of it and yanked my belt off, all while running towards the water.
"Michael!" she laughed as I splashed head long into the oncoming waves.
The water felt amazing. It was nice and cool under the surface and when you broke out into the air, the sun was there to give you a big kiss on the cheek. I heard splashing right next to me when I surfaced and all of a sudden I was under the water again. I felt her thin hands pushing me down by my chest, so I grabbed around her wrists and kicked off from the ground. We both were jettisoned from the water in a great rush of foam. Before I could clear the water from my eyes, I felt her hands on both my shoulders and felt her entire weight jump on me (all 115 pounds of her). Except this time she slipped off and basically fell into the hoop that was my arms. Finally able to see, I looked down at her.
Her hair was pressed back over her head and her white skirt floated around us, nearly translucent. Her tank top was off one of her shoulders, and I could feel that the ruckus had pushed it up around her ribs. My arms were still around her and, feeling her skin with my fingertips, I wanted her. I looked down into her eyes and she looked up at mine. A tiny smile drifted across her face and she straightened her tank top. She grabbed my wrist, turned around and pulled me out of the water.
Her shirt clung wetly to her body leaving little to the imagination as to how well she kept her body. I visually traced her arm from mine back to her elegant shoulders and down her tight, athletic sides. My eyes traced the curvature of her hips and down her firm legs. Oh God, I thought to myself, she's wearing a
white
skirt! I brought myself to look at her ample butt through the clinging, white mess that was her skirt. I could see it bouncing hypnotically left and right through the white and could tell her underwear was a very cute pink. Apparently wet denim
isn't
too hard to move around down there.