This one took alot longer to come out with since my classes are ramping up. Calculus B sucks. I've also had a bit of writer's block. TL;DR, Expect a good minute or two between sequels here, I find time to write when I can. Sorry for the wait! Enjoy!
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Doing 70 down the freeway, I watch the city lights glow against the night sky, drowning it with just enough light to block the stars. I sigh: light pollution is a horrible thing to do to such beautiful constellations. The hum of my Bronco was deafened by the housing of the engine, making it comfortable enough to have the windows down without too much noise to disturb the quiet, sleeping city. The weather this time of the year was perfect. Not cold, but nowhere near hot; just right with a light breeze. Being close to one in the morning, traffic was sparse, so Allie and I could get to wherever we wanted within reasonable time. The radio was tuned into an alternative channel, and a song from The Script came on, called Flares. About halfway through the song, Allie struck up a conversation.
"Do you know this song, Alex?"
I glance over and nod, my eyes drifting up and down her toned midsection and ample cleavage for just a brief moment, unable to restrict myself from some eye candy.
"It's one of my favorites," I reply casually.
"I'm starting to like it myself. It tells a great story, I think. About loneliness, heartbreak, and loss. But then, he sings about hope, all from a single flare in his life. Very touching, don't you think?"
My mind drifts. To all the missed chances at relationships; to all the heartbreak when I realized what had happened. I would put this song on with earbuds and sleep with it at night.
"I agree. A man can lose himself when he has no one to fall back on."
I let on just a bit too much emotion.
Allie looks over at me. Her eyes search mine for something, and she finds it. A look of pity flows over her face.
"I hit a note, didn't I?"
Pain creeps onto my face as I remember all the signals I missed from my high school crushes. I never was good in connecting with people.
"I wish your seat was next to mine," I say, seeking comfort in the arms of my new significant other.
The console in-between our seats sinks into the floor and her seat slides over to sit adjacent to mine. I put an arm around her, and she leans against me with her arms wrapped around my torso, her hands latched closed just under my left shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Alex. I never knew it felt like that."
"What do you mean?"
"Sorrow. I can see it within you; it's a crushing emotion."
A singular tear forms against my right eyelid. I blink, and it runs down my cheek. Allie reaches a finger up and takes it off, looking at the bead as it hangs from her index finger. She holds it there for a few seconds, until suddenly it absorbs into her finger. I never notice.
"I've learned to cope with it over time. I kinda figured after a while that I would be lonely for the rest of my life, and resigned myself to stop trying. That is, before you came along."
Her eyes focus back on mine, light gleaming in them. I smile slightly at her.
"Who knows how long it would've been until..."
"Oh, don't say that. You're stronger than you think. I can see it," Allie rebukes confidently.
I take a moment to listen to the wind. Before long, I announce, "I know a place. It's nice and quiet, lots of trees and not a lot of streetlight on the university. Better than a club for me right now."
"Sounds nice," she chirps. "Let's go!"
Being this close to Allie thanks to my wish, I can't resist sliding my hand from where it was resting on her upper hip to under her ass, giving her sweet cheeks a squeeze. She flicks her eyes at me and shakes her head with a smirk. I step on the gas.
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We finally pull into parking at the university, lock the truck and take a walk. We hold hands, Allie swinging my arm as we walk through the late night twilight. I look her over from time to time, the moonlight glinting off of her hair and face. Each angle offers a new surface for my eyes to explore, highlighting every curve, freckle, and open plain of her smooth skin. Her ears are cute ovals off the side of her head, with a thin, marble-sized lobe stitched onto the bottom of each. My eyes scan lower, admiring the beauty next to me as we walk through the park.
Her neck is of average length; more than enough to tell she has one but not too long. It fits her well. Allie's collarbones form a small bowl-shaped valley on the front of each of her shoulders, starting next to the base of her neck and disappearing as you follow it from there outward, accentuating her petite frame. She has deltoids and traps that stand out and tell you she works out, but only for tone, with barely any mass on them. Her upper arms are slender and smooth at the moment, but something tells me she doesn't have a problem doing pull-ups with her nubile ninety-pound frame. A well developed muscle that runs the top of her forearms and starts right by her elbow occasionally tenses with our combined swings, which completes the feminine musculature of her arms.
Her torso is next for my prying eyes; shallow in depth (hence her size 26 bra band) and just wide enough on the sides to form an eye-pleasing curve from her chest to her waist. Her GG-cup breasts hop and skip with each step she takes in their prison of fabric, their nipples noticeably visible against the rather thin clothing, made perkier by the crisp night air. Allie's grapefruits are just as gravity-defying as ever, standing proud on her chest: also a sign of a good workout regimen. She has lats that come out behind them on her back, slightly just enough to tease the eye. Where her tank top ends before her stomach, a depression where her sternum is begins, and shy's away under it. Her ribcage is tellingly visible, accentuating her midsection.
I scan further down to a waist that I bet if I tried, I could wrap both my hands around. Her spine bows and indents down her back, with just a hint of muscle on her sides and a flat, washboard stomach to finish her waist, with an inkling of tone from her abdominals. A dime-sized, innie belly button resides by her navel. She has hips that are waspish on her teen frame, but not disproportionate; only slightly wider than her chest. They sway and dance with each of her steps. A tight, bubbly, callipygian ass is pronounced on her backside, with cute dimples just above her waistline. It rolls out from her back not too unlike a shelf, accompanied by tenses and flexes of womanly strength with every move. Her thigh gap peeks out from between the previous, allowing a great view of her puffy cameltoe from the right angle. A bump at her pubic mound is level with the beginning of her thighs, adding even more curves for me to follow. Her tight clothing helps my fantasies, even amplifying them from my wanton scrying.