Chapter 56: More ‘More’

Thursday, December 5, 1985 (continued)

When we left, I gently nudged us onto the path Darla and I had followed several times already. We walked slowly, continuing our conversation from the theater, and we had talked for another fifteen minutes or so when we reached the same little bridge that had played into several dates with Darla. Perhaps it was truly a magical bridge, because Amy somewhat abruptly switched from a discussion about how amazing it would be to travel to the moon (as happened at the end of the movie) to looking up at the actual moon.

“I’m glad you liked the movie as much as I did, Steve,” she said, slowing down and squeezing my hand.

“I did,” I said, squeezing right back.

She hesitated, started to say something, then hesitated again.

This time, I was ready. I slowly pulled her to me, moving closer at the same time. With her chunky shoes, she wasn’t that much shorter than I was, unlike how she would be if we were both in bare feet.

I looked into her eyes and could feel her breath speeding up a bit in response. Then I ran my fingers over her hair, cupped the back of her head, and brought her into a kiss.

The reaction was immediate. She pressed herself to me, moaned, parted her lips, and kissed back.

Not well, mind you. It was awkward and clumsy. Noses bumped. Teeth bumped. My tongue got bitten twice (neither time hard, at least). Her hug pressed some sharp points into my back, and her collar managed to poke me a couple of times as well (how, I’m not sure, but it did).

But it was the kiss we both needed right now. The kiss that said we were definitely not just going out on dates to talk, and that both of us wanted ‘more.’

We came up for air after a bit. She was panting a little, and so was I.

After a bit, she said, “I...”

She stopped, then tried again.

“I...”

Again, she stopped.

“Calm down,” I said, stroking her back. “It’s fine.”

She looked up at me and said, “I ... really liked that.”

“I did, too,” I said, giving her a little squeeze.

“I ... do not...” she said. She paused, then said, “I do not want that to be ... all of the ... more. Tonight.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” I said.

She let out a deep breath, then nodded, smiling.

We kissed again, but a much softer one, then resumed walking.

After a second, she squeezed my hand.

“I ... did not know how to handle that,” she said. “Only ... that I needed to. I think that is too ‘forward,’ by the rules, but ... I...”

“I like ‘forward,’” I said. “There are no rules for things like that for me. Do what feels right to you.”

She sighed and nodded, looking relieved.

“Thank you. I have never been in the situation of being on a date and ... feeling the way I do now. The last was ... close. But I said something then, too, so it would be there for this one.”

“I remember,” I said.

“How...?” she said. “Meg will be home. It is dark, but...?”

“There are a few options. I’m not ... I don’t have ... um.”

“You do not know how much ... more ... there may be,” she said.

“That,” I said.

“I do not either. But ... I...”

She stopped and said, “We can find out together.”

“We will.”

“And...?”

“My car is at the Commons lot. If it feels right to you, we can go somewhere else,” I said.

“That is an excellent idea,” she said, actually bouncing a bit. “I heard so much about people who went ‘parking’ in high school, and it was ... it sounded interesting ... but no person I dated ever made it sound interesting then.”

“‘Interesting’ is a good word,” I said.

Our walk changed. Instead of simply holding hands, Amy was now plastered against my right side, with my arm around her and her left hand holding my right. She looked up to me much of the time, and I think was relying on me to navigate and keep her from running into anything.

We didn’t talk much on the way to the car. I was spending much of my thought on trying to guess where this would go. From what I knew, Amy wasn’t naive. She was, however, inexperienced, at least at doing anything with anyone else.

Well ... with a guy. But she hadn’t given me any hints that she’d done anything more with girls than with guys. If there was ever going to be a guy in her life who could hear that and not go nuts in one way or another, I was probably the one, so my guess was that she hadn’t. That, and she had a perfect opening given my comments about Angie and Paige.

Amy had proven to be surprisingly unconcerned with saying or doing things most girls would find embarrassing, so I doubted that was it. I had to figure it was a combination of a few things. She had gotten into a very embarrassing position relative to me, and I had handled it gracefully, giving her every opportunity to recover. That, and having strong reviews from girls she trusted, made her less worried about my treating her poorly.

She had also spent a lot of time being embarrassed, or at least around people who were trying to embarrass her, and might have a certain amount of resilience around that. We both knew it wasn’t anywhere near absolute — her comments about public speaking confirmed that — but she knew I wouldn’t point and laugh, nor put her in a position where someone else would.

Add to that what Claire had said. Amy wasn’t weak. She was different, but she wasn’t wounded, naive, truly shy, or anything of the sort. If anything, she was rather tough, able to hold her own and doing fine after undergoing something of a gauntlet in high school. She was perfectly capable of deciding what she wanted, and she didn’t have a ‘nice girls don’t’ rule to hold her back. She was, after all, not a ‘nice girl,’ but rather a nonconformist.

Nonconformist up to a point, anyway. But enough of a point that some of ‘the rules’ didn’t apply.

I led her to my car and helped her in. That alone was interesting. She squeezed my hand, then moved it to her ass as she got in. That was a way some guys helped girls into cars, but it wasn’t my usual method.

It did give me a good angle to help her with her skirt, but her skirt was short enough that it was never going to be a problem.

On my way around, I stopped at the trunk, picked up a couple of clean towels (always know where your towel is!), and put them in the back seat. Amy looked at them curiously for a second. Then she gave me a rather smirking look.

I got in, put on my seat belt, then started the car.

“I have an idea for a good parking location, if you’re game,” I said. The subtext was clear, I hoped: ‘Do you trust me to take you somewhere quiet, dark, and private of my choosing, or do you want input on where we go?’

“Please,” she said. “I am definitely game.”

I headed to the same place I’d taken Darla: a quiet, out-of-the-way, poorly lit street in West Campus. It was probably a mile past the last College of Agriculture building and more than a mile away from the next major road and the airport. There was, for now, nothing out here but empty roads. It was to become A&M’s ‘Research Park’, a public-private partnership sort of place where businesses that hope to productize A&M research were expected to build buildings and set up offices.

My not-that-specific knowledge of history said it would work, but not quickly. Bryan / College Station had grown enormously between now and 2020 in my first life, and the big driver of that had been companies moving in that wanted to either partner with the university, hire graduates, or both. That drew in other businesses, service industry jobs, and everything else that comes from a growing and prosperous population.

If we didn’t go somewhere else, MNMS or the like might be here one day. It seemed unlikely, but it wasn’t impossible.

On the other hand, if MNMS had a venture capital operation, we might be making deals here instead.

Once I’d parked, Amy wasted no time at all getting out of her seat belt, scooting over, and kissing me. We’d gotten a bit better, and no teeth were knocked or tongues bitten.

“Wait!” I said, as she was unbuttoning my shirt. “Back seat. Towels.”

She giggled just a tiny bit, then nodded.

“A very good idea.”

We quickly moved from front to back, spreading the towels out. She got my shirt open, proving better with buttons than Darla was, and I got her blouse open, then caressed her back.

In almost no time at all, she was moaning and squirming, kissing and caressing my chest.

After a bit, she let out somewhat of a growl. Her wrist found my arm and shifted it, making my hand move from her back to her left breast.

“There,” she said.

I started caressing, squeezing, and lightly pinching her nipple.

“Fuck,” she said. The strangeness of someone crying out ‘Fuck’ in a Wednesday Addams voice was ... something. But it was who she was, and it fit. It was just ... well, if I hadn’t known her, it wouldn’t have fit at all.

Within another minute, her hand grabbed my other arm and guided ... no, shoved ... my other hand under her skirt until it was against her panties. They were not dry.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes. There. Oh... fuck.”

This time, a sound of emotion crept in. Not quite in the usual way, but ... in Amy’s way.

I played with her nipples (still through her bra) and rubbed her through her panties for a bit. After a bit, and having seen how much she wanted this, I shifted my hand, bringing my fingers inside and caressing her hair and lips.

She moaned loudly, but it wasn’t long before she said, “Outside.”

That surprised me, but I didn’t have a problem with it. I moved my hand outside and kept rubbing.

I think she realized how it must have sounded, because she immediately said, “Sorry. The cloth ... it is ... I like the friction.”

Oh! That put a totally different spin on it, didn’t it? It wasn’t about her not being ready, or going past her boundaries, it was about sensation!

It didn’t take long before she was clearly building up to something. She confirmed it, saying, “Do ... not ... stop.”

She paused, then added, in an unusually plaintive voice for her, “Please. Please. Do not stop.”

“I won’t,” I said.

I didn’t, either. She came, shaking hard. Within a minute or two, she was clearly building up to another, and was past asking me to not stop, or saying anything at all.

Her second was considerably more physical ... more violent ... than the first, and I nearly lost contact with her, but managed. She still didn’t seem to want me to stop, though, but I needed to change things.

I moved my hand out of her blouse and used it to pull her against me, her back against my chest, my hand rubbing through her panties, holding her securely and trying to use my hand as best as I could play with her tits. She was a bit hard to hold, really, and I had to really work to keep her in place. It was well worth it, though, when she arched and let out something between a scream and a screech.

Oh, well. We were well away from anyone. If there was a patrol car nearby, though, it would certainly sound like something bad was happening.

Amazingly, she rolled from that right into a fourth, with just a tiny gap during which she looked at me glassy-eyed but didn’t say anything. The fourth was nearly silent, but her eyes rolled up a bit and she shook all over.

After that, she went limp enough that I stopped rubbing, instead cupping her pussy in my hand (still outside of her panties) and holding her close.

When she finally came to (and I think she really was out of it), she looked up at me with wide eyes.

“Oh. My. God,” she said. “That ... I do not even understand how amazing that was.”

“It seemed pretty good,” I said.

She snorted.

“That is much like saying Mount Everest is a bit of a tall hill. It...”

She wriggled a bit, testing my arm around her. I let up a bit, since she didn’t need to be held.

“No! Oh my goodness, no. That feels ... indescribable,” she said. “Please. Please hold me.”

I did, shifting my other hand to make it a two-armed hug.

She practically groaned with pleasure.

“So different, but ... the first, the orgasms, they were ... I thought they could not be all that much better than when I did that, but ... oh, they were. Then, when you were holding me ... it was as if ... there was this ... feedback. The feelings went out and bounced off your arms and came back stronger, and bounced, and came back, and just kept doing that.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“Now, there is this sense of safety. I cannot remember feeling such a thing. It is so calming.”

She paused and said, “Except that it does not make me feel less excited. It is calming but still exciting. I do not know how to describe it.”

“I’m just happy that it feels good.”

She snorted again, and said, “I believe you will be doing this often. Oh, my! I do not know what it would be like with someone else, but with you ... I like this so much.”

“I’m glad.”

She shifted a tiny bit, which caused my cock to shift.

“Is that?” she said, then shifted a bit the other way.