Matt had no idea how this was going to turn out.
He knew it shouldn't turn out at all, given the situation. This was very much the sort of position that he should walk away from. Not even should. He needed to.
She wasn't going to let that happen though.
Her claim on him wasn't physical. He could physically walk away if he wanted. Get up and walk out of the room. But there was some sort of magic hold on him.
So he laid on her chest, breathing slowly. At one point, they had been breathing in time, together. Now she was starting to breathe quicker. The movement of her chest sped up ever so slowly.
She was some kind of sorceress, he thought to himself. That thought lasted about two heartbeats and was replaced with another. It was some other thought, he already forgot what.
Alyssa Vanessa Baker hung one arm loosely around Matt's, her other hand gently stroking his hair. She thought to herself that it wasn't too much hair. To her at least, it was sexy. Slightly aged and very experienced, he showed obvious signs of a rough life.
That's how they had gotten there. There weren't many words exchanged. She wanted to make him feel better though. She wanted to soothe him and give him some solace from that rough life.
Even though she knew she should not be doing this, she had no inclination to move, rebuke him or send him away. His breath on her bare breasts calmed and relaxed her. He let her console him and that made her feel even better. This felt right, lying like this in the low light of the stuffy room, just being.
Even physically, it felt bad to her. It was not comfortable at all. Her tight t-shirt was chafing, bunched up around her neck and shoulders. His head didn't fit in the valley between her breasts and the weight of his head pushed them grotesquely apart. His rough skin, coarse work shirt and prickly beard ground into her smooth, sensitive skin. His torso pressing down on her hips felt almost crushing.
In some way, this all just proved to her in her mind that this was right.
She was getting excited and she knew it. At first it was just calm relaxation but that was changing. As she idly ran her fingers through his hair, she could feel herself getting ragged on the edges. What had started as a flowing rush was now a tingling and it was begging to burn through her. Try as she might, she couldn't hold it from flourishing in her senses. She did not want to either.
Head half-cocked, he could see down her long legs. Those awful, garish knee-high socks, wide, alternating stripes of black and white. They were wooly and irritating against his arm and he thought they looked simple and immature.
By all rights, he should think she was simple and immature. At 24, she was twelve years younger than he was. But she carried herself with the grace of someone older and wiser than he was though, so he didn't care.
He peeled those socks off her legs in her mind. They were beautiful, shapely legs. He had seen them so many times when the three of them sat out in the sun, or splashing in the cool water of the river.
Glancing up he could see the nipple atop her right breast. It was pulsing and throbbing. It was unmistakable that something, or maybe everything about this, was causing a chemical reaction within her. Her hormones were bucking against the gate, aching to be set free.
Nothing in his mind allowed him to move, not yet at least. Maybe that would change and some sensibility would come over him. That was rapidly vanishing though and it seemed that the inevitable conclusion to this would be them together. Perhaps it would not be together tomorrow or next week or next month. As seconds passed it seemed like a lot more was going to happen.
She had started this. It was days ago, not even a week when she'd come over to drop off a shirt that his brother had borrowed. He had no idea that Alyssa had carefully hand-washed and lovingly folded the shirt that Tyler had needed for some odd job. When she was washing it, she had told herself that it was out of affection for Tyler.
When she had arrived, Matt had been on the bed, trying hard to contain himself. One setback after another had left him broken and empty. When she climbed into bed with him, she had told herself that it was just out of compassion. As she laid there for hours, his head on her chest, all she had intended was to try to make him feel better.
He had just accepted the gesture at face value. They hadn't talked much, she had just let him fume mostly to himself as she caressed him gently.
She had let him put his arms around her as he fell asleep. It felt really good. She couldn't sleep much though. She couldn't think past his head on her, pushing against her with nothing but her t-shirt separating them; his strong body pressed against hers; his hands mindlessly gripping her skin.
Lust was prevalent in her life now. It had been ages since she had worn a bra despite the fact that her nipples got hard dozens of times a day and poked through her shirt. She never wore panties around the house, even if she wasn't wearing anything else. She had long ago dug through her drawers looking for the tightest and shortest of anything she could find.
She yearned for touch, for passion. Tyler was nice enough but so exceedingly shy. Months, they'd been together, and some sloppy make-outs and awkward fingering was as far as she'd gotten.
She would have given Tyler anything. Her body was his for what he wanted.
Weeks ago she had bargained with herself in her mind. She felt like she had completely lost the bargaining on all fronts. She landed at a place where she decided she would give him anything. She would accept literally any depraved act that he may want to perform on her.
As the money got tighter, he was around less and less. More weeks passed that turned that thought into a wanton need. What started as acceptance became want.
Nothing was off the table and there wasn't anything left that she wouldn't burn with desire to do for him. When she first realized this, it struck her as slightly aggressive, more than she would normally be. That is when she stopped caring.
