Lolita as a Boy

Part One

On the last day of school, he came to take her out for lunch, as he had promised.

As he entered the room, a wide smile spread across her face. He looked at her, wide eyed – a bit too serious – and nodded.

He sat down.

"I'll be a minute" she told him, swinging her legs around in her chair and motioning to the back of the room, where a group of students were working at a computer.

One looked up, and saw them there together.

"Dave!" he said. "You're back! What's up buddy?"

"Not much Josh," he grinned affably. "How you been?"

"Good man. D'you finish?"

"Yes sir. School's out for me. You?"

"Yeah, just got this one project going…"

She kept a straight face as she moved about the room, conscious of his eyes on her form. She remembered to breathe regularly as she straightened and tidied, preparing the room for an empty summer. Her heart beat faster.

"Does he know?" she wondered, feeling the wet flesh between her thighs.

She pictured a scene from her dreams last night. Gently, assertively, he had entered her mouth, hard with the anticipation of her lips around his shaft. His thumb and forefinger guided his motions as he rubbed himself inside her mouth, pulling back and then pushing in, smiling, as she acquiesced, her lips reddening with delight.

"All finished Miss!"

"Great! Good work gang!" she praised them, knocked out of her reverie.

"Well done!" She smiled lovingly as they collected their belongings. "Have a wonderful summer!"

"You too Miss! Bye Dave!"

"Ready?" he asked her, picking up her bags.

"You carrying my bags?" she teased him.

"'Course" he feigned gallantry, gesturing as she walked out the door. "After you, madame".

She laughed as they made their way to the car, and then was silent. He seemed more pensive than usual.

"Does he know?" She felt the twinge again, her heart beating in her thighs and their demesnes. "Can he know?"

She smiled easily as she tucked her feet between the dashboard and the window of his car.

"Barangas?" she suggested.

"Sounds good."

He pulled out of the lot and turned the volume up on the stereo. He always played the best reggae.

"Good week?" he asked her.

They made easy small talk on the road to the beach strip, pausing to let the music sink in, drumming to the beat. Enjoying each other's presence, as they had every morning since he had come.

"Gorgeous day to eat out" she announced, hopping out of the car.

"Beauty" he agreed. He looked at her sideways. She made her way to the front desk.

"Two?" the hostess asked.

"Two" she agreed, conscious once again of his eyes on her form as he walked behind her to their table.

She felt good in his gaze, confident, alive, irresistible. She noticed, as he did, the way her hips moved suggestively under her narrow waist; the way her shoulders framed her long torso and moved gracefully beneath her slender neck.

She turned at their table, and, lifting her frame, pulled her legs up under herself as she sat down.

"Be right back" their waitress said.

He perused the menu hungrily, chose quickly, and closed it again.

She took more time, reading each offering and savouring the suggested flavour combinations before she selected. He watched.

"Are you excited?" he asked her.

"For lunch? I'm starved!" she answered.

"For summer" he smiled.

"For two months of sunning and swimming?" she grinned back at him, teasing his eyes with her own.

"For two months of sitting on your ass while I work two jobs" he feigned a sigh.

"Whatever!" she laughed indignantly. "You need to save for school! I Have a job."

"Sure, you work real hard" he taunted her.

"I work hard enough" she defended.

"Do you know where you're going?" she added.

"I haven't applied yet." He paused. "I'm going back, to upgrade."

"Oh", she brushed it aside. "Good idea".

"Yeah, I think so" he suggested. "Need good grades to get into teachers' college, right?"

"Or good money" she laughed again.

"I might do it in Australia" he said.

"Or New Zealand" she offered. "They're both gorgeous, but I liked New Zealand better."

"Want to come with me?" he asked her.

"Yes", she teased him.

"Okay" he said. "In a few years".

"Four or five?" she asked.

"Two thousand and twelve" he replied.

"Right, got it. I'll put that in my calendar then. Two thousand and twelve".

He laughed.

Lunch came.

She nibbled.

"Love tzatziki" he announced, biting into his pita.

"Me too. I wonder how they make it?" she demanded.

"I dunno. My aunt owns a Greek Restaurant on the Danforth. I should take you there," he continued. "You'd love it".

"Really?"

"Yeah, great food, and you'd love my aunt. She's a free spirit, like you. She's teaching in Morocco next year".

"Amazing! I'd love to go to Morocco." She enthused.

"Me too," he said. "And Portugal, and Spain. And Mozambique, with my dad."

"Why Mozambique?"

"That's where he's from. I've told you that."

"You have. Mozambique – one of the world's most beautiful countries!" she told him. "Have you seen The Earth From Above?"

She explained about Yan Arthus Bertrand and his stunning photography. She painted pictures for him of Montreal in the summer, and the art exhibits lining McGill College Street.

"Have you been there?" she paused.

"Not yet" he said. "September. The big 18".

"That's why I went to McGill" she told him. "Eighteen and legally sanctioned to party."

He laughed at her.

"What?" she demanded.

"You're funny" he said, kicking her under the table.

"You're funny" she kicked him back.

He watched her as she returned to her salad.

"You've been everywhere" he remarked later.

"Not everywhere" she told him. "Not Africa. Not South America".

"I've been to Florida" he said. "But we drove."

"I've never even been on a plane" he continued.

"You'll have to prepare yourself for the flight to New Zealand" she advised him. "Twenty three hours".

"I'm a good sleeper" he said.

"I'm going swimming" she told him, once lunch was done.

"I'm coming with you" he said. "I'm not working until five".

"Salt Lake" she told him. "The best swimming in town".

"Perfect" he smiled, looking at her eyes. She shone them back at him, and then turned away, facing the window.

They were back on the road.

"Turn here" she said, halfway home.

He complied, without asking.

"There's a lake just up the road."

Part Two

He removed his shirt and placed it next to a rock in the sun. His shoulders were lightly dusted with freckles.

"Nice tan" she teased him.

"Shut up!" He protested. "We can't all lay in the sun all afternoon."

He moved to splash her. She jumped in, sinking to the bottom. She opened her eyes and watched him jump in after her, a cloud of bubbles danced off of his submerged skin.

"Beautiful!" he shouted, his head emerging.

She swam underwater, exploring the depths of the lake. It was fairly shallow.

"Race you to that rock!" she challenged.

"I dunno… this could be bad," he said.

"Come on! No arms. Go!"

She wriggled ahead, clamping her thighs and lunging her body forward.

"Cheater!" he called after her.

He caught her at the rock.

"You little cheater" he repeated, grabbing her hands behind her back.

She shuddered at this firm touch.

He had only ever touched her lightly before now – a flick on the wrist, a playful punch in the arm.

She noticed the goose bumps on his skin, despite the heat from the sun. His red nipples were prominent against his hairless white skin.

Was she cold or warm? She shivered and yet felt heat streaking along her spine and up under her belly.

He looked at her, searching. She waited.

"Please don't let go" she prayed as he loosened his grip.

She held his gaze as he let go of her wrists with his left arm and drew her elbow up to his shoulder, pulling it around his neck.

She breathed in as he traced his fingers back down along her shoulder and under her arm, pausing gently at the gap in between each rib. He left his hand resting under her lower ribs and pulled her left arm towards him.

"I should stop him – this – now" she told herself, immune to her own warnings.

He breathed as her belly glanced against his, and let his right hand fall to her lower back.

He held her there for an instant.

"I could lose my job" she heard herself say.

"It's summer" he told her. "I've graduated."

She looked away, concentrating on the sunlight reflecting against the flickering waves.

She tried to fight the incredible forces drawing her in towards him, fight every urge she had to press up hard against him, wrap her legs around his hips, press her lips against his mouth.

"I know what I'm doing" he said, searching her face for a signal he could understand. He was afraid to let go, afraid to go forward.

She was afraid to let go. Afraid to go back.

He kissed her.

He kissed her like a diver coming up for air; like a starving man tasting meat after famine.

She kissed back.

She was not kind.

She tightened her grip around his neck and ate his lips gently, and ferociously. Her tongue swirled around his and he stepped forward, catching her buttocks with his hands and hoisting her hips up towards his, lowering his torso forward.

She experienced a surge of pleasure as she felt him, hard, against her. Her clit caught the edge of his tip and she rubbed him there, moving her hips up and down against his shaft. He moaned with pleasure, cupping her breast in one hand.

She cried out as he squeezed her breasts and her buttocks, alternating between right and left, stroking her shoulders and back and belly as he tasted the lake water on her nipples and on her neck.

"Brett" she protested, unconvincingly.

"Shhhhh," he silenced her, pushing her hips out of the water and up onto the rock. "Don't tell me" he said, running his hands long her soaking thighs.

She shuddered as he paused, his fingers at the edge of her bikini.

Confident now, he slid his fingers up under the red fabric and tugged it a little, making space.

She moaned softly as he explored her with his hand, parting her lips and moving his thumb up towards her clit. She winced as the pressure overwhelmed her, and then sighed as he acquired a softer touch, moving his thumb gently over her clit as he inserted his index and middle fingers inside, feeling her sweet, sticky warmth, thicker than water, but almost as wet. He stroked her inside, gently. She arched her back. He slid his fingers in and out of her, faster, as he watched her face.

She opened her mouth, a silent cry arising from within. She closed her eyes, her pupils dilated, unable to take in the sun.

A fire of pleasure exploded between her thighs, igniting her swollen clit, sending flames of ecstasy down her pleasure-soaked lips and clenching at the root of her spine, contracting her ass. She cried out again, reached for him.

He muffled her with a kiss, pulling his fingers gently away. Instinctively, she clung to him, wrapping herself tightly around him as he waded to shore.

He placed her gently on the sand, shaded from view by the tall grass and trees that hid them from the road, from the world, from the opinions of others.

He said nothing. She looked at him hungrily, gratefully.

He leaned in, pressing his shoulder to the ground and pulling her onto her side, facing him. His eyes were wide and blue; deeper than she had seen them before. They looked tired; resigned; the eyes of a man caught by fate. She thought he might cry but he pulled her up on top of him instead.

"Please" he seemed to say, without speaking, as he slid his shorts down with his free hand. He held her gaze in silence instead, and pulled at the strings on her bikini.

She stared at his face; his beautiful full lips, his bridged nose, his violet eyes. She stroked his hair, feeling the soft spiky texture under her palm. She kissed him gently, understanding.

With expert ease, she placed her hips above his, angling herself forward.

She held his cock gently, firmly, in her hand as she guided him up in between her lips and into her warm, tight depths. He let out a rough sigh as she slid down his shaft, enveloping him in her warmth. She lingered a minute there, pressing the underside of her clit against his shaft, then slid upwards, drawing pleasure with her.

He moaned.

She slid downward, pulling him deep inside her.

He moaned again.

She slid up, gripping his shaft inside of her.

She drew moans out of him this way, sometimes lingering, then increasing in speed. They began to sweat as their bodies moved together in the afternoon sun; she, pulling and pushing, her back arched, her breasts high; he, clenching and releasing, his stomach firm, his hands on her hips.

She concentrated on his climax as he tried to hold on. He pulled her forward, slowing their pace, but she continued to roll her hips back and forth, building the tension within him. His shaft pulsated with the intensity of the pleasure he felt inside of her. Everything was warm, wet, firm, soft, tight, movement, sunlight, flesh, desire.

She bit his ears and his neck as she rolled her hips against him, bringing him deeper and deeper into pleasure. She knew she was in complete control of him, despite the way he towered over her when they stood; despite his strength and sportsmanlike agility.

Her power excited her and she felt her own pleasure rising with his.

She escalated her movements, pushing her hands against his chest and releasing her back from his grip, pushing her thighs into his hips to hold him as he breathed, hard, and fast, and let his eyes roll back in ecstasy. He cried out as his pleasure built up to a volcanic eruption, soaking her insides with it's warmth. She slowed. Rocked him gently. Then stopped, cradling him between her thighs. He was still.

"I have killed him" she thought, smiling as he opened his eyes.

He grinned back at her.

"Come here" he said, pulling her onto her side next to him. He stroked her back, kissed some sweat on her shoulder.

She looked at him, waiting for the guilt to rise up in her belly.

"Not yet" his eyes seemed to tell her, as they lay in the warmth of the sun.