What A Difference A Day Makes

Last night I was ravished by a boy. A boy even more sarcastic and cynical than myself, I mean, what is a girl to do?

From first glimpse I was strangely attracted to him, not instantly a looker, but somehow I was drawn to this trim, muscular body, left considering, wondering if… As the group began to natter, telling stories of school I started to appreciate his wit, and the obscene things he said which had me giggling like a girl. We began to exchange, others following until they found a new thread to persue, beyond our conversation. It was not long until I found myself alone with him, atop hay bales in a barn. I was quite lost in translation when the host returned, asking questions, laced with jealousy about the progressions of our time together. I laughed them off, having always hated this kind of intrusive banter, and he remained calm, letting me wave away such nonsense.

We hopped in through a window, to an unfinished house extension, lent to our party along with a dusty, worn three piece suite for our comfort. Collapsing amid the cluttered air, clouds rising as I fell into him. He kissed me first, lightly, tentatively, and I returned the favour, wriggling under his chest to feel the weight of him on me. It was not long before we were interrupted again, a bright light turned on and guffaws and explosions of merciless laughter followed. He kissed me again; they watched and soon got bored, skulking off for better entertainment. What I liked about this was that I could pause to giggle, and his response was to smile and whisper to me until it passed.

We walked cautiously towards the source of the commotion, a swimming pool full of naked teenagers, squealing and splashing one another. Of course, he was straight in with them, I remaining at the side, unwilling to dive into such a mess. Soon enough this noise was over, kids wrapping up warmer than before, taking refuge in our cinderblock fortress. I ran to the road, scuffing my heels and jumping, he followed me to the track leading back to the lane, and we started to walk. Along the way he told me of how he’d always wanted to lay in a field and look up at the stars, and twenty minutes in we found a suitable one, reclining into the long grass. The moon gazed down at us between the clouds, stars coming and going from sight as they moved. We rolled like kittens in the grass, he held me in so many different ways, and within time I was on top of him, straddling at the waist, leaning down to kiss his forehead. We kissed for a while, stationary now, encapsulated in the breeze and the moonlight.

Upon our return, I was greeted with a damp hug and exclamations; we had been searched for it seemed, aha, but not found. We had been gone for two or so hours, I had not missed the ruckus of the group, but now I found it pleasant. We moved on to sit in the cement cell once more, on a redundant massage bed now, and I noticed the winds change. I was now a sideline act, no blame to be placed of course, understandably necessary but nevertheless unentertaining; we remained there until people started to head to Bedfordshire.

We were alone upon the double bed and an hour or so later, after bouts of light kissing, the headline act took place. It lasted hours, almost two if I am to believe my watch, passionately devouring one another, in all possible positions. I felt I had been everywhere that night, climatically, held upon his lap, my legs around his waist, me, playing with his sensitivities, enjoying the inequalities in his laboured breathing as I tickled his spine, sending shivers to his toes. Crushed against him, I used almost all of my feminine charms to experiment with his reactions, skin on skin, falling finally onto the mattress to notice the sunrise. Oh my, life has begun.