Chocolate

She was so hot inside, so tight. As he began to move, she groaned and dug her heels into the bed, thrusting upwards to match him. He felt sweat break out on his back. His arms trembled as he felt his balls start to tighten up, the concentration of sensation in his cock, his belly, he was almost over the edge when she pushed him back again suddenly. "Roll over," she said. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright.

On his back, he watched as she impaled herself on his cock, sighing as her pubic hair met his and she started to grind against him, pink tipped fingers playing with her nipples, head thrown back, eyes closed. One hand descended to rub at her clitoris. She was a glorious sight, and he watched her breasts bounce up and down as, with a small cry, she came, the veins in her neck bulging briefly, grinding, grinding until she took him with her. He cried out with the force of his climax, his thigh muscles fluttering involuntarily as his cock pulsed inside her, until finally, he relaxed, his mind wiped blank.

She leant forward and kissed him, breathless. Her breasts pushed against his chest and then his drooping cock slipped out of her, and she rolled onto her side, resting her head on his shoulder.

She was no virgin, for sure. Where had he even got that idea from? No one was a virgin at eighteen these days. He stroked her hair, his body and heart glowing. She pulled the quilt cover over them, and he drifted off to sleep with her in his arms, a dream come true.

= = = = =

It was a few weeks before he could refer to her as "my girlfriend". It felt like winning the lottery. He could only believe it when she was with him. Sometimes he picked her up from school and they would go straight to his apartment. He could barely control himself when she was wearing that uniform. They would often fuck like that, she on top, her school blouse open, her well-sucked nipples shiny and poking out of her push-up bra as she rode him to climax.

He was completely in love with her. At least, he thought so, as he punched in the pin number of his credit card in the shop. He could not stop buying her gifts. Today it was a set of lingerie she had admired the last time they had gone shopping together. It was Valentine's Day, and he was planning to see her wearing them that night.

He knew it was love, because the last time they'd fucked, he hadn't let her climb on top as usual. He had forced her down onto her back and sat back on his heels, watching his unsheathed cock pumping in and out of her, reaching out for her firm little tits and pounding her until she screamed her climax, her school tie lying like a green snake between her tits, her blouse gaping where he had ripped the buttons apart. Without the rubber, she felt hotter, slicker inside. He barely recognised the man who cried out in triumph as he came inside her, imagining those firm breasts full of milk, her stomach swollen with his child. He had never thought of children until that moment and it was scary, but the thought of making her pregnant turned him on more than he had ever thought. Panting there, his cock still inside her, he looked into her eyes and started moving again, fucking into the wetness of his spunk and her juice until, unbelievably, he came again, in blinding, shuddering waves of ecstasy. She made anything possible.

He had taken the afternoon off, and picked her up from school. She bounced into the car, waving at her friends who were giggling and talking behind their hands, looking at the car with greedy eyes. "What a day!" she said. "We had the careers officer in, talking about university applications. It was a real eye-opener."

She chatted some more about her day, and he watched as her skirt crept up over her knee. Imagining her in the pink underwear was making his head cloud over again.

"I have something for you," he said, reaching under the seat as he drove. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Really?" she said, grinning. Tearing off the wrapping, she opened the box and sighed. "How do you do it?" she said. " You always get me just the right thing. I love it! I'll put it on when we get back to yours."

"Well," he said. "I had kind of a surprise planned."

She clapped her hands together. "Ooh, a surprise! What is it?"

He shook his head, laughing. "It would hardly be a surprise then, would it? I'll drop you home. Wear something nice."

She did what she was told. When he picked her up, she had styled her hair in a way he had never seen before. The frizz was gone. Instead, her hair hung in glossy ringlets, her eyes dark with mascara that made her lashes look impossibly long. She was wearing a long red silk dress that clung to her figure. No bra. No visible panty line. High shoes that glittered with sequins, with a thin strap around each ankle.

He held the door of the car open for her, speechless. She laughed at him, pulling her dress up to get into the car. The gesture was so girlish. But yet she was flowering right before his eyes, into the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

You always get me just the right thing.Fingering the small box in his pocket, he hoped it would prove to be true again.

= = = = =

He took her to the rooftop restaurant of the city's most expensive five star hotel. She was awed by the view. The city lay spread out before them like a glittering carpet under the black sky. He had booked the best table and ordered a bottle of the most expensive champagne.

Opening the menu, she frowned. "Look at the price of this food," she said. "Are you sure...?

"Have whatever you want," he said, smiling. "Happy Valentine's Day, Bee."

She reached into her bag. "You're making me feel really bad," she said, pulling out a small box. "Here- for you. Happy Valentine's, and all. Sorry it's so crappy, compared to what you've bought."

It was a small selection of the chocolates from the counter she worked on. Touched, he put the box beside his glass. "They're wonderful," he said. "Because you bought them. You make me so happy, Bee. Cheers!"

They clinked glasses and sipped the champagne. She wrinkled her nose and put the glass down. "Have they got any vodka?" she said. "I'm not much into wine." She shifted in her seat, and looked out of the window.

The meal passed in silence. She had ordered the roast beef, and looked to be savouring every mouthful. He did not feel the urge to fill the silence with chatter, as she often did, and contented himself with picking at the chicken and gazing at her, how beautiful she looked in the candlelight.

"I'm applying for university," she said, when she had finished eating.

"That's great!" he said. "What are you going to study?"

"English," she said. "Not very useful, I know. But I'm good at it, so..." she shrugged. "Maybe I'll go into teaching, or something." He looked at her hands. She was twisting the napkin round and round. "Ian..." she said. "I'm going to Edinburgh, if I get in. Most of my friends are going there, and..."

He felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach. "Edinburgh?" he said. "What's wrong with the local uni?"

"I want to get move out, live with my friends, have some fun," she said. "I love my mum and dad, but I can't stay there forever."

"What about..."Me,he was going to say. "Us," he finished, taking a gulp of champagne.

She shrugged. "We'll still see each other, right? I'll have plenty of holidays. Anyway, don't worry about it. I haven't got in yet." Grinning, she drained her vodka. "We've got plenty of time."

When he took her back to his apartment, his head was spinning from the champagne and the seeping knowledge that maybe she did not, in fact, feel as he did. It angered him more than he had thought possible. When she kissed him, he almost tore the dress from her body. She wasn't wearing any underwear. Pushing her down onto the bed, he kissed her savagely, nipped and sucked her nipples until she moaned and spread her legs. She was wet. He plunged his fingers inside her, nibbling at the sensitive spot under her ear, fastening again and again on her nipples until her eyes were unfocussed and she was begging to be fucked. Without bothering to put on a condom, he started to pound her harder and harder, climaxing fast and shuddering as his balls emptied inside her. When his head cleared, he realised she had not come. Sliding down her body, he found her clit, peeking out of its hood, swollen and red. He sucked it into his mouth, breathing in the smell of their combined fluids as his spunk started to leak out of her. Her breathing quickened and she shrieked her orgasm just as he pushed his finger into her slick pussy. He felt her inner muscles pulsing as her hips bucked against him.

Sitting up, he sucked his spunk off his finger and looked at her. Her eyes were half closed, a lazy smile on her face. "I'm sorry," he lied.

She shrugged. "Don't worry," she said. "I've been on the pill since I was fourteen."

He stared at her, surprised. "So why always the condoms?"

"I don't really like the smell of spunk," she said. "It feels weird when it runs out."

There didn't seem to be much to say. He pulled her into his arms and stared at the ceiling, for long after her soft snores told him she had fallen asleep.

= = = = =

He never mentioned that night again, or her plans to go to Edinburgh. He hoped she had forgotten about it, and would come to realise how much she loved him eventually. She was young, and he was prepared to wait. Or so he told himself. The sex was as fantastic as ever, right up till the day she told him she had been accepted to Edinburgh.

"Don't worry," she said, smiling. "We have time."

Flights were not expensive to Edinburgh. Even if she had been going to the USA, he would still have visited her. Money was never the problem. That summer, he took her to Spain for two weeks. Two perfect, wonderful weeks by the beach, drinking cocktails and walking on the sand, looking out over the sea from the porch of the villa he had rented. The time she always talked about was running out. Three weeks to go before she left, and he planned to spend every minute he could with her. But she went away to Majorca with her friends on a last-minute cheap deal, and when she got back, she was a deep caramel colour, good enough to eat. One week left.

She was different after that. She did not want to show him her photographs. But he saw her tagged in some of her friends' photographs on Facebook, drunk and hugging various men. Men of her own age, fresh faced and grinning. The images pierced his heart like shards of glass, but still he kept silent. She was young. They were probably just friends.

"Wake up, Ian," Victor told him. "She's a tart, she's been shagging around, any fool can see that." But he did not listen, he couldn't.

Bee said they were just some lads her friends had been into. "You're getting far too serious, Ian," she said on the day before she was due to leave. "Haven't you had fun with me? Just because I'm going away, doesn't mean I won't come back. There is such a thing as phones, you know."

They made love that night, just the way she liked. There was a sad look on her face as he dropped her home the next morning. "I'll miss you," she said. "Thanks for everything. I promise I'll be back home before you know it. "

He felt tears start to gather in his eyes and pushed her out of the car before he disgraced himself.

= = = = =

She was true to her word. The first chance she got, she came home. Ian picked her up from the airport and took her home to her parents' house. She had a new tattoo on her ankle, of a bee, a new piercing through her lower lip. She was full of chat about university, how much fun it was living with her friends. "You should come and visit sometime," she said. "You'd love Edinburgh."

Been there, done that,he felt like saying. "When will I see you?" he said. "This week, I mean."

She looked out of the window as the rain started to spot against the glass. "Maybe Sunday," she said eventually. "Got family stuff to do before that. You know how it is."

"So I don't matter then," he said, disgusted at the needy sound of his voice.

She gave him a strange look. "Of course you do," she said. "It's just my family matters more. Surely you can understand that."

"What has this been about?"

"This?" She looked baffled.

"Going out with me. When you knew full well you..."

"Ian." She cut him off. "Come on. It's not like we were going to getmarried. I'm far too young for that shit."

It was the closest thing they had ever had to a fight. It was then he knew what he had been denying almost since the start. They were incompatible, always had been. He had been obsessed, projecting his fantasies onto a girl who would never live up to them. Knowing it didn't make him feel any better.

That Saturday, he went back to the supermarket where Bee had worked. It seemed empty without her, even though it was heaving with Saturday morning shoppers. There was another woman behind the chocolate counter, a middle aged woman with short curly hair, a stout figure and a friendly smile. A wedding ring glinted on her finger. He bought some chocolates from her, watching her bend over to pick them carefully from their pyramids. Her breasts were big and soft looking. He wanted to bury his head between them and never look at the world again.

"Got something special coming up?" she asked. "Birthday?"

His heart felt numb, as if it had been anesthetized. "No," he said. "Just ..." He did not know why he was buying them at all.

She smiled. Her name badge read "Betty." It was a nice name for her. A middle aged woman who probably had been married for years, a couple of grown up children, someone who went to church at the weekends.

"I wouldn't mind it if my husband bought me some," she said, grinning like a girl. We're having our first anniversary next week, but the idiot seems to have forgotten."

He looked at her, surprised. "In that case," he said, sliding the box back over to her. "Here's something you can give him. Happy anniversary."

She looked shocked. "What? No, I can't possibly..."

"Have them," he said, handing over the money and smiling what he hoped was a friendly smile. "I don't need them."

Sighing, he turned and walked out of the shop, carrying his small bag of groceries. So alone, always so alone. He wondered what was on TV. He would turn it on, turn it up and lie on the sofa. Maybe Victor would come round, to keep him company, bring a few beers.

Maybe Bee would call, after all.