A New Language

"Justine," Mom called upstairs. "Justine? Come here."

Putting down the script, I rolled off the bed.

"Honey, favor," Mom said. "Run to the airport to pick up Davis? He gets home from break on the 3:15 flight. I told Julie I'd grab him, but this is taking longer than I thought."

"Mom, no. No way."

"I didn't ask," Mom said. "I told you. Keys are on the table."

"Seriously," I muttered, going out and getting in Mom's sedan. I cranked my music the whole ride there, knowing that I'd have to change it on the way home or Davis would tease me mercilessly.

Growing up, Davis lived two blocks away from us. Our moms were best friends, and we had been too. Now we were not. Davis was everything I wasn't: athletic, good looking, popular. I had been a drama kid, and now I was studying costume design at the local community college. He'd gotten a full ride scholarship to a school in California.

I parked and walked inside to the baggage claim. In the past year I'd had one boyfriend, a much older guy that I rode the bus with to and from school. He worked behind the butcher counter at a local grocery store. He had thinning hair; he'd felt me up on a park bench one night before he'd gotten back with his ex, and I'd felt nothing but disgust. It made me wonder if I might be a lesbian.

"Justine!" Davis said. I had been spacing out, looking at the bags rotating on the belt. There he was, with a backpack and a rolling suitcase. His sunglasses were on top of his head, and he was wearing a white polo shirt and khaki shorts. His legs looked more muscular than before, but his face was the same. Like a male model's; mischievous blue eyes, full lips.

"Hi," he said, and pulled me into a big hug. It felt good. I flushed. He pulled back and looked at me. "I love the haircut. Missed you."

"Yeah right," I said, awkwardly. He chatted about the flight as he followed me to the car.

Back in the day, we were the only kids in our neighborhood for a while, and we owned it. All the way through the fifth grade we rode our bikes down to the store for candy and stayed out way past dark and our parents hired Nancy Simmons to babysit both of us. If we were together we were half the work because we entertained each other. There was a play kingdom Davis had invented when he was seven or so. I was the queen, and he was the knight, and he'd go out on quests and bring me back things. An orange. A book.

Then middle school hit, and Davis got good looking. I did not. He joined more sports teams. At first he was just the same, and then he got new friends and stopped saying hi in the hallway. By high school, he wouldn't even look at me. One day, I was at my locker. It was right towards the end of lunch so people were lingering, chatting. As I put books in my backpack, Josh, who was also on the lacrosse team, sidled up to me.

"What's the hurry, butterface?" he said. "Gotta get to lunch?"

All the boys made oinking noises, squealing noises. I'd started crying silently. Davis did nothing, just followed the others away. We hadn't spoken since.

Which is why it was so weird now. We walked through the airport side by side. He held the door for me, casually, and began telling me about the drama program at his college. One of his friends was a girl who ran lighting there. She reminded him of me.

"She's so smart. And sassy," he said. "She's a blast to hang out with. She just doesn't care about what people think of her. Says whatever."

"And suddenly you like that in a woman?"

He grinned sheepishly, caught. All of his other girlfriends had been such...bimbos. On the drive home he was chatty. Didn't look at his phone once. I actually found myself enjoying his company.

"Come have breakfast tomorrow," he said, as he shouldered his duffle bag. "It'd be fun to see you."

Caught off guard, I said sure and he leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I jerked back. He laughed. "Sorry. Automatic. Handshake next time."

"Next time," I said, stupidly.

***

The next day I woke up early in hopes that I'd miss Davis. No such luck. Passing his house on the way to the bus stop, I heard him call my name. He was standing on his porch, wearing exercise shorts and no shirt. I stared at his muscles as he turned, his six pack and pecs, the towel draped around his strong neck.

"Went for a run," he said. "Want some breakfast?"

"I gotta go study," I said.

"Aw, skip the bus," he said. "Come have some coffee. I'll drive you."

He went inside and came out with two coffees and bagels. I sat down on the porch swing. My bagel was just the way I liked it: cream cheese and strawberry jam.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I said. "What the hell are you up to, Davis?"

"Maybe I've grown and matured and turned into a fine young gentleman?" He leaned against the railing, coffee in hand. I stared at him, warily. "Seriously, though. I got to college and I missed you. Not just home. I missed you. I know we fought a lot in high school, maybe because you called me out on my bullshit. I didn't appreciate that then. I'm sorry."

He tossed a handful of sunflower seeds onto the lawn and birds flocked down from the trees, pecked at them. I tried to look at his face, tried to avoid looking at his body, the rippling abs, the defined pecs, the trail of hair running down from his navel...to where? I wished he would put on a shirt.

He wet his lips. "Remember when we were best friends? Can we have that again?" he said, softly. Friends had been so long ago. I wasn't sure if I could go back to that. He'd betrayed me. The boy who I'd gone camping with, studied the constellations with, built whole worlds of imagination with had turned into a sports bro.

"We can try," I said.

"We can?" he said. I nodded.

He jingled his keys. "Let's get you to class."

*****

Friday night, my parents went out of town. My last day before break had been Thursday, so I decided to go out with some friends to celebrate, but one of them got sick and they all ended up canceling. A night in it was, which was fine. For a moment I thought about calling Davis. The number of his parents' landline was permanently engraved in my brain. Finger hovering above my phone, I stopped. No reason to. I put some water on for ramen and began flipping through the channels when I heard a knock on the door.

It was Davis. He had two frozen pizzas in one hand, a stack of DVDs in the other. When I got back from turning on the oven, he had pulled all the cushions from the couch.

"Serious?" I said.

"So serious," he said, and laughed. I got a sheet from the hall closet, and a short time later, we had a pillow fort all set up, just like the old days. We lay there, watching TV, eating frozen pizza and sharing a bottle of wine from my parents' fridge. I told him that I was regretting not going away to college.

"It's not too late," he said, turning towards me, and leaning on his elbow. He rested his hand on my stomach, tapping his big finger for emphasis. "You can always transfer out, but why? You've got a great thing going at the community theater."

But I still had this feeling that I was missing out by not living in a dorm. It was so hard to meet people, and by people, I meant boyfriends. Dating people at work was a bad idea. Davis listened to me complain, filling our small tent with my voice. No one had listened to me like that in a long time. I moved on to boys, telling him about the butcher.

"You're super special, Justine, and I want you to be with someone who appreciates you."

I laughed, cynically. "Well, when you find him. When you find someone who's willing to not care what people think, someone who likes me for who I am...you let me know."

Davis looked at me. "I have returned, my queen," he said, pulling away, looking at me, running his hand from my shoulder to my hip.

"Oh come on," I said. "Don't ruin our memories."

"I'm not," he said, and that's when he leaned in and kissed me, pulling my body against his and kissing me deeply and firmly in a way that took my breath away, and then he said, "And that's not what you're supposed to say. Unless you've forgotten. Let's start again. I have returned, my queen."

Of course I hadn't. There was no way I ever could forget my knight. Curled up there in our blanket, I felt safe, and I felt that same sense of wonder and joy that Davis had given me so many years before.

"And what news have you brought me?" I said.

"A new language," he said. Show me, I told him. And he did. He kissed my mouth, lips parted, gently. The kissing grew more intense as our tongues touched, lightly. He ran his fingers across my back, sending shivers down my spine and I felt a heat between my legs, my pussy dampening, blushing, blooming as he caressed me. My clitoris swelled, juicy cunt growing moist as I felt his stiffening cock pressing against my soft thighs. The fort filled with the sound of wet kisses and moans, the air thickening with the smell of our lustful bodies.

"What's this?" I asked, running my hand boldly down his front. His cock was tenting out the silky fabric of his athletic shorts, curving downwards. I could feel the big head under my palm. He gasped as I rubbed at the thick stalk.

"That's called a cock, my lady," he said, thrusting the blunt instrument into my grasp. "It's for fucking."

"What is this fucking of which you speak?" I said. "I'm intrigued."

"May I show you, my lady?" he whispered.

"Yes," he said, and pulled my t-shirt off, and pushed down my sweatpants. I was wearing a bra that opened at the front, and he undid it with practiced hands, letting my big breasts roll free. His touches and the cool air hardened my rouge-red nipples into thick nubs, and he rolled the right one lightly between his fingertips as he bent his head and took the other between his teeth. Down to just my panties, I moved on top of him so his erection rubbed against my rapidly dampening slit through a silky layer of exercise shorts.

Davis grabbed my butt, hard. Digging his fingers into my fleshy asscheeks, working his fingers around and wriggling underneath my panties. "This is called your cunt, my lady. Such a juicy, excited cunt it is." He put his wet forefinger in his mouth and sucked, and I felt his cock throb. As I kissed him again, I could taste myself.

"I want to fuck your cunt with my big cock. May I, my queen?" He maneuvered down so that his face was between my legs. I could feel his tongue probing my saucy slit, slithering around the lips, lapping and sucking.

The air in the pillow fort was warm and steamy and smelled like pussy and Davis' deodorant. He pulled down his shorts and his penis was sticking through the hole in the front of his boxers, thick and veiny, the head red. I had never seen a cock in real life before. I wrapped my hand around it near the middle and squeezed lightly. A thick drop of precum oozed out and dribbled down towards the cloth of his boxers. My pussy was on fire, slick as an oil spill and ready to take its first cock, ready to swallow the whole shaft inside.

"I've never been fucked before, my lord," I said, softly. He looked at me and I could tell he was deciding whether he believed me or not. I was twenty, after all. I wanted it more badly than I'd ever wanted anything in my life. I'd rubbed my clit to the point of exhaustion before, but I'd never had anything more than my own exploratory finger up inside.

"Well," he said, reluctantly, and pulled up his shorts.

"No," I said. "No! I want it."

"What do you want?" he asked. "Tell me."

"I want your hard cock in my cunt, I want you to fuck me."

"You should probably be on top," he said, pulling his shorts back down. I took his boxers off, too, and slid out of my panties. I kept my pussy shaved, just in case anything like this happened, and Davis reached over and ran his finger along my lips, around my clit. My whole pussy shuddered at the touch.

"Oh my god, you're so wet," he said, sliding his big finger up my hole. There was pressure, but it wasn't painful. I looked at how much bigger that cock was, bobbing and nearly purple now, the veins ropy and throbbing beneath the pale skin of the shaft. He frigged me with his finger, and I moved on top of his hand not caring how I looked, chasing that release. Naked now, I slid my left leg over his torso and straddled him. He spat on his hand and wetted his cockhead. Then I slowly sat down.

His cock slid inside my pussy, millimeter by millimeter. It was like putting on a shoe that was too tight. It didn't hurt exactly, there was just an incredible amount of pressure. When he was a few inches in, I felt that huge head rubbing against my g-spot, and the feeling was almost unbearable. I moaned, and he began rubbing my clit with a slimy finger, lightly, fast, and I orgasmed almost instantly.

"That's it, that's it," he said. "Come for me, come all over my fat cock, oh yes, oh yes, that's it." He kept rubbing and I was on top, squirming and mewling and then I gushed all over him. Creamy fluid squirted out my wet hole as the motions of my pussy squeezed his cock.

"Don't move," he said, adjusting himself beneath me. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock. "That's so hot, I don't want to come yet. You're so tight. Oh, you're so tight."

I was fine with slowing down. I was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Wet. Everything about this was wet, and the steamy little area we were in smelled overwhelmingly of my pussy. I sat there while he looked at a cushion, counting backwards until he relaxed.

"You ready, my lady?" he said. When I nodded, he said, "Proceed."

We finished the process, and I inched downwards until I could feel his hairy, full balls pressing against my asshole, my weight off my knees and on his hips.

"Now what?" I said.

He laughed. "Now you go up and do it again."

I slowly raised myself from his cock until only the big purple head was in the shallowest part of my cunt. I rotated around on it like a ball in a socket, greasing it up before sitting down another inch so that it pressed against my g-spot. The pressure was less now that it had been relieved, but now a different kind of building. I massaged my g-spot with the head for a moment and then sat slowly down, but quicker this time than before. Davis had his eyes closed, sweat beading on his forehead as I raised up.

And then we were fucking. My tight channel was greased just well enough with pussy juice that I could slip up and down on his cock, and I swear I could feel every ribbed vein stimulating my cunt. Up and down, up and down, every motion made my g-spot tighter and tighter.

"Oh my god," said Davis, panting, "oh my god, look at your big fucking titties jiggle. That is so hot. I'm so close, I'm so close. Where do you want me to come?"

As much as I wanted to feel his load splatter the inside of my pussy, I also wanted to see it shoot out. The thought of it pushed me over the edge and I climaxed, everything inside me contracting and my body melting in a pool of warmth and ecstasy, from my shoulders to my toes.

"Come on my tits," I said and he moaned and rolled me onto my back, so he was on top, and he pulled out his cock from my cunt with a wet sucking noise and knelt over me. For a moment nothing happened and then Davis began convulsing and panting and just held his big cock firmly throughout, poised over my tits which I held together.

"Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes," he whimpered and a big jet of white cum shot out the tip of his dick and I felt it hit my chin. A second splashed onto my tits and nipples, and the third. Davis continued to frost my body with his semen until he'd unloaded everything he had and his big cock drooped down into the mess and he doubled over on top of me.

I let him rest for a moment, then began to slowly extricate myself from him. I knew he was just using me while he was in town, and I didn't want to get attached. He said, tentatively, "that was fun."

"You will service me until you leave again for far off lands, my knight," I said.

"It would be my pleasure, my queen," he said. We hit play on the movie again, and he poured me some more wine, put his hand on my leg. It wasn't love, but it would do for now.