With flushed cheeks, Jen peers over Tom’s shoulders into the early night. A moth flaps around the dim porch light of her parents’ suburban home. The rest of the world is dark and quiet.
He shields her from the May chill with his body. Tendrils of mist rise up from the lawn. An owl shrieks close by, echoed by a distant church bell tolling once.
“Aren’t you even a bit curious?”
“Well...yeah, but…” A self-conscious grin bares her white, regular teeth. “What if someone sees us?”
“Who’s gonna see? Everyone’s asleep.”
A kiss on her nose.
“You should be in bed too; I’ll come tuck you in.”
Her giggle morphs into a fractured sigh as he cups a breast and fondles it through her clothes. He kisses his favorite spot in her neck again, then searches her lips.
Her mouth is warm but uninviting, lips barely parted. The tip of his tongue searches but hardly touches hers. She didn’t have much experience kissing boys when they started going out; in fact, he’s pretty sure he’s the first she’s ever kissed.
After all these weeks, she still won’t fully open up to him. It’s a bit puzzling that she doesn’t mind him touching her breasts—even if only through her clothes—but she’ll hardly give him a decent kiss.
Time to try something else.
“How about we go for a walk? The fields behind your house must be nice this time of the year.”
“It’s pitch dark out there, silly.” Another slap, a little harder this time.
The sparse light of the porch reflects on her smile. Her eyes flicker with their own internal embers.
They’ve been going out for about three months. Only in the last couple of weeks, has her guard lowered somewhat. He likes to think he’s wearing her down, but every night since they started dating, he had to go home with a bad case of blue balls. She has him firmly pinned at first base, playing a game of push-pull that’s stretching his patience to the extreme limits.
Jen’s eighteen, like Tom. She’s at that crucial stage of development—no longer a girl, not yet a woman—where one more hot summer will tip the scale. She has a fit physique—captain of the gymnastics team—and the prospect of being with her when that potential blossoms encourages Tom to suffer her whims and keep taking those small steps.
He makes sure she feels his erection caught between their bodies and whispers pleading encouragements into her ear.
“Just a little stroll. I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”
She seems to hesitate. For a moment, he thinks she’s about to give in.
“I have a test tomorrow. I should get some sleep.”
Instead of backing off, he goes for her lips again. Despite the cold, her mouth is soft and warm. Tender, inviting smooches, mouth half-open. His tongue begs for its counterpart to come in and play, but she holds back, their lips touching but not locking.
He’s dying to feel her warm, wet tongue penetrate deep into his mouth and twirl around, wrestling with his so he can taste her saliva. Her breath smells like strawberries. He wonders if she tastes like strawberries as well.
By now, he knows better than to worm his way into her mouth. He tried that once before, and it knocked her right out of the mood. But his gentle insistence is rewarded. Her lips part and allow him to slip his tongue in, but only just.
She does taste like strawberries!
The kiss picks up momentum. She actually starts to kiss him back, although still timid and hesitant.
He raises his hands to her face to pull her closer.
Jen janks away, gasping for air.
“Take it easy, okay,” she says, both her hands on his chest.
That’s what she does. Mess with his head. Keep him hoping.
His erection still presses into her belly. Either cruel or oblivious, she actually grinds her body against his groin, making the ache—and hankering—even worse.
“You don’t have to stop,” she says with the most endearing of smiles, “Just go a little slower, okay.”
Tom sighs. Time is running out. He takes her face in his hands again and forces her to look at him.
“Do you have any idea how crazy I am about you?”
She knows. She damn well should know. The bulge in his jeans speaks a language that should require no words.
The kissing tentatively resumes with no more than tongue-tip touches. Tom lowers his hands to her hips, under the lapels of her open coat. He can almost close his large hands around her slim waist, but he feels the strength of her core muscles as her belly flexes. The fabric of her dress is perhaps a bit thin for this time of year, but her skin is still warmer than his hands, which have started to numb.
The night is making better progress than he is. But as long as they’re making out, there’s hope.
He slides his hands farther down and rounds her firm athletic bum. She giggles under her breath but doesn’t stop him.
Her ass is undebatably Jen’s best feature. At school, either wearing tight jeans or gym pants, she turns the head of every male with a pulse, students and teachers alike, and even some of the female faculty members. And now that ass is in his hands. He feels the dent in her flesh where the elastic of her panties separates cloth from skin. He gives a good squeeze and starts to hike her dress up, frosty fingers pulling the fabric up as they tiptoe farther south.
When his fingers reach the hem of her skirt, Jen’s hands shoot down to foil his approach.
“Hu-uh! Above the waist only, Tom. You know why.”
Sure he knows. She’s been telling him every night for the past three weeks. No hanky-panky as long as she lives with her parents.
High school is coming to an end. Over the summer she will move into her college co-ed dormitory, where he can come over as often and as long as he likes. They’ll have all the privacy in the world to explore each other. Just two more months.
But Tom can’t wait another two months. He’s sick of first base. He wants to take it to the next level now. She may not be the most promiscuous girl in school but she’s firm, she’s warm, and she is here. Now!
He needs to try another approach. She’s balancing on the fence, and he doesn’t want her to topple over to the wrong side. It’s a fine line between encouraging and overstepping, but he needs to keep moving forward.
“I feel so comfortable when I’m with you.” He sweeps a lock of hair from her forehead. “What do I have to do to show you how special you are?”
“Just be patient,” she says, hiding her face in the curve of his neck.
A sweet scent emanates from their embrace. Her shampoo, her perfume, her breath…
“You smell so lovely.” His words drift into the night on a puff of vapor.
Tom closes his eyes and sighs, trying to see an opening he hasn’t thought of yet. She’s slipping through his fingers.
He feels Jens lips on his. He expects another chaste kiss.
The next moment they are kissing—really kissing. She opens her mouth and offers her tongue, just like he’d been wishing for not five minutes ago. Blood rushes to his loins, rekindling the urgency of his needs and the immediacy of the moment.
For an immeasurable time, all inhibitions are gone. Lips, tongues, teeth… a unisson unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
Cold fingers stir the stubbles on his cheeks. He moves his hands to her shoulders, down her flanks, to cup her breasts.
But then she stops.
“Time to call it a night. It must be one in the morning by now.”
Is she fucking kidding me?
“Come on, sugar, you’re killing me.”
He hates the pleading tone of his voice but the adrenaline surging through his adolescent body overrules his self-esteem. The ache in his balls is making him nauseous. What’s worse, she keeps pressing into him through his pants. If she doesn’t want to touch below the belt, why does she keep torturing him like this?
“Not a chance, buddy,” she decrees with a cruel grin. “My fucking dad is asleep only ten feet above our heads.” Her eyes overflow with impishness, but not with the intention to offer him the relief he craves so much. “Do you want to find out what he’ll do if he catches us here?”
The sweet scent of chestnut tree blossom—which always reminds Tom of a load of fresh jizz—mixes with Jen’s fruity aura. The street is dark and quiet. Tom assumes they are the only ones awake for miles around.
He’s wrong. Not too far away, two stealthy eyes have been watching them since they walked up to the porch.
“My dad,” she says with a nervous snort, “he still has a problem with me going to college after the summer. As long as I live under his roof, just be glad he’s not down here with us, holding a loaded shotgun.”
Tom makes a puppy dog face in a last attempt to charm her into giving up her reluctance. “I’ve been walking around with a loaded shotgun all evening. You have any idea how sensitive my trigger is?”
This earns him another slap.
“I haven’t even told my mom yet that I have a boyfriend, and I usually tell her everything.”
Tom hasn’t met either of her parents yet. Jen always talks about her mother like she’s her best friend. Her dad, however, sounds like a real control freak.
Hell, Tom isn’t expecting—hoping, yes—a handjob straight away, but the least she can do is help him get off somehow, through his pants if need be. The way his junk feels bloated and cramped, he’s convinced he’ll lose his load if she as much as points at his zipper.
“I—will—make—it—up—to—you,” she says, planting a kiss on his lips after every word.
She traces his cock through his pants with a finger. His balls send out a jolt of anticipation. “You just keep this gun of yours loaded for me. When we’re finally alone, you can point it anywhere you want and fire at will.” She concludes with a good squeeze.
Tom hisses through his teeth, his balls cry out in frustration.
“Careful!” He recoils in a reflex.
She just grins at his squeamishness.
It’s clear to him now she’s not heedless at all. She’s just plain cruel.
“I’m sorry, baby.” He pulls her back into his embrace. “It’s just... you have no idea in how much pain I am right now. And how much pain I’ll be in later. Blue balls are no laughing matter.”
She looks at him with big eyes and a worried “O” rounding her lips. A last spark of hope flashes through the pleasure center of his brain, making his painful erection twitch in his pants. He reminds himself never to wear boxers to a date again.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll relieve some of that pressure when you get home.”
With a knowing giggle and a final, teasing kiss, she crushes the last of his hopes of advancing to the next plate.
“Gotta go now. Got that biology test tomorrow.”
She turns around and looks for her key. He’s acutely aware of his throbbing testicles as he watches the key slide into the lock. Then she’s gone.
He stares at the door for a few more agonizing pulsations. His balls are now his entire universe.
“That’s just fucking great.” he says, sharing his frustration with the night. Of course, no one hears him.
No one, except for the owner of a pair of hungry eyes lurking in deep shadows…