by Memory's Grace

There's a look she gets on her face when she's debating whether or not to take off her panties. She leans a little to the left, like she's curling up a bit, and rests her butt firmly against her heels. Then she twitches up.

I don't know if she takes them off or not. I'm trying to relax.

"What is it?"

"I..."

"You always get like this," she smiles. "You're in good hands, you know."

I don't know what it is about a slightly chubby brunette that lets her smile like that. It's a warm glow of happiness.

I feel like a vampire.

Or maybe I've got the positions reversed.

"Open your legs."

"Uh-ah."

I don't know why I make that sound. I really don't. I'm nervous, and then I'm nervous but enclosed by her lips. And I can't relax. And I can't relax.

A wet noise escapes her lips. She always makes those when she gives head. I don't remind her because she finds it horribly embarassing. As if somehow it's unfeminine to have saliva. Cock in the mouth is fine, though.

Just fine.

She comes up, "you're tense, again."

Yeah, I'm tense. I'm tense.

"Just relax."

I don't want to relax. Because when I relax...

She caresses my neck and I feel her breath on my ear. "Fancy a kiss, sweetie?" She's cold. She's the love of my life. God, she's cold.

Because when I relax, this happens.

She traces a hand down my chest, my skin prickles and dies. I tense up and jerk a little bit.

"Mmmmmm" comes from between my thighs.

Her hand comes up and grabs my jaw in a lover's grip. "Let's do a little remembering, shall we?"

"Shall we?" The atonal vowel at the end stretches on to forever and becomes a white rain. A white glistening rain. It grips me, then caresses me, then it bleeds the fucking life out of my ears.

And then, then we are all alone.

And I'm in the woods behind my father's house. The snow is all around me, so bright I don't know what day it is. My jeans are rumpled around my knees, my body screaming at me that something is definitely, definitely wrong.

The wind blows around my erection. Yes, a scientific term. In the interest of science, it is cold, and it is dry, and it is not friendly at all.

I wrap my hand around the top of the shaft, and begin.

My legs twitch a little bit, trapped by the jeans.

It's hot and cold. It's about to get a lot colder.

I take out my pocketknife.