Ash and Tori at the Lake

That pit in my stomach grew again as we flung stones. I thought of him leaving. I thought of going to college without him, missing him, and not knowing when he'd return. When I'd get to see his face again or chat with him for hours into the night like we used to. It was almost too much to bear.

"I'll miss you." The words suddenly came from the quivering edge of my lips, so soft that I was sure they might have been lost in the leaves-rustling breeze.

"I'll miss you too," Ash said unhesitatingly. He tossed the stone in his hand and gave me a tight hug. I hugged him back tightly and did my very best not to cry. It helped to be in his arms, even if those were arms that I would not feel again in a very long time, or, to consider the grimmest of circumstances, ever again.

The sun sat between two mountain peaks when we finally arrived at the point. We found a sun-kissed hill to sit on and watch the wakeboarders and water skiers cut through the water behind motor-humming and wave-slapping boats. A sun-hazed serenity filled me with a wistful calm, like warmth on a rainy day. I sidled up to Ash and put my head against his shoulder, and he rested his head affectionately against the top of mine.

Memory can be weird. Sometimes, it feels like a cursed thing to have because when you revisit them, they're wafting, amorphous, and ephemeral. Tinted shades of the real memory. Monochrome. Often sepia. A color of sadness. Even the happy ones are sad. Have you ever listened to a song that sparks a cherished memory? You cannot deny that when you hear such a song, maybe the one you fell in love to -- that the happiness you feel isn't the same happiness you felt that day you fell in love. You cannot pretend it isn't more than an echo of happiness. And echoes are sad.

In that quiet moment at the point, the nearness of Ash evoked memories. All the memories that have shaped our relationship. All the summers at the lakes. On rainy days inside, playing video games or making pillow forts. Endless summers riding our bicycles through the neighborhood until long after the sun went down. All the knee scratches and wrestling matches. The ride-or-die moments when one of us did something bad. The moments of tenderness whenever we confided our doubts and fears to each other. How naïve of me to think that once we grew our wings, we would fly to the same horizon. Not once did I consider that we would be flying to separate ones. And his flight, the more difficult one, had me worried sick.

The sun had dipped beneath the mountains, casting a purple evening when we meandered back to the cabin. The scent of the barbecue wafted towards us as we neared. The crickets were out chirping, and the songbirds were singing the last songs of the day, louder and more frantic now to get the last of their songs out before night finally fell.

Burgers and Brats. Beers for the adults, and, for a jolting surprise, for us too. My dad, already a little red in the face and a beaming smile on his face, dipped his hands in the cooler, pulled out two beers, and stuck one in each of our hands.

To Ash, he said, "If you're old enough to fight for your country, you're old enough to drink." To me, he only smiled and tousled my hair. When one of us got special privileges, the other always got the same. Still, it was a beer.

We sat as a family on the dock to watch the last of the twilight fade into the night. Lights strung up in the trees above us gave us a gentle illumination and a cheerful vibe.

The mood was more joyful than I expected, but my family was drunker than I anticipated, and they were all always happy drunks. My mom and aunt danced to Diane Ross while my dad and uncle swapped loud stories they'd told each other before.

As the night wore on, and the adults grew more drunk, the more permissive they were of us drinking. I had not ever really enjoyed drinking -- I didn't like the taste of alcohol, but Ash drank enthusiastically, so that made me want to drink. I was a real lightweight, though, so I got tipsy fast. And the adults noticed and poked fun at me for it. My mom yanked me onto the dance floor to dance to an ABBA song, then to the Pointer Sisters, and when my dad couldn't take that sort of music anymore, he hijacked the playlist and put on more mellow, acoustic music. Jack Johnson, whom I introduced my dad to a year ago, sang 'Constellation,' spurring my mom and aunt to make mojitos. Being tipsy, I wanted to keep dancing but didn't want to be the only one, so I pulled Ash up from his seat. He resisted initially, but I wouldn't allow him to stay seated. Red in the face from embarrassment, he joined me, and we danced alone in the center of the dock beneath the sparkle of the string lights, and the gleam of the stars that had not long ago started to dot the twilight. It was nice to dance with Ash. Our eyes would frequently meet, and we both giggled profusely when they did. When the song ended, the adults clapped, and my drunk dad reached for the iPod and put on another song that he must have figured would be a nice encore to our performance in his buzzed and nostalgic state. The soft sound of brushed drumming and the sultry voice of Norah Jones crooning her song, 'Come Away with Me.' I shot my gleeful dad a dirty look and a cringed groan. Ash, however, in a shocking move to entertain the corny sentimentalism, pulled me into a purposefully awkward slow dance.

The embarrassment was unbearable, but to be honest, and perhaps it was the alcohol, I felt the pluck of giddiness against my heart again. I could not deny that just this one dance, awkwardness and all, was more special than all of Prom. My grin was wide. So wide my jaws hurt. My face was flushed red, and I drew myself into Ash, against his chest, my cheek against his cheek. With a bit of mental exertion, I blinked the adults out of existence so that it was only me and Ash, and Norah Jones making this a special memory.

The song ended, and another came on, but we were done dancing. We bowed at the applause.

A bonfire was made as the night wore on, and Ash and I found a spot at the edge of the light and warmth. We sat as tentatively as a pair of middle schoolers who crushed on each other. As the adults got drunker, we grew closer together. Eventually, when the night grew frigid, and I began to shiver, Ash wrapped an arm around me, and I snuggled into him.

Eventually, the adults all turned into sleep, leaving Ash and me behind with a glowing fire that also seemed ready to turn in.

Frogs croaked from the reeds. Owls and other night birds murmured from deep within the pine. The clouds above broke apart to reveal a dizzying scene of stars I never grew tired of seeing whenever they appeared, lending to a moment rich in quiet thoughts. Ash's eyes were fixed on the dying fire. He seemed at peace but in a dazed sort of peace, like his thoughts were full of fantasies clouding an unbelievable reality. The reality was boot camp. I wondered what his fantasies were, and as I wondered, the thoughts in my mind coalesced around one particular memory -- that moment that Stacy broke up with Ash and shouted for the entire school to hear -- "I can never be like her!"

I constantly thought about what Jake told me and secretly wished it was true. Now, I thought drunkenly, was as good a time as any to hear from the horse's mouth what I wanted to hear.

I straightened up and swung my legs bashfully. I gave him a coy side-eye.

"Ash, what did Stacy mean at Prom?"

Ash flinched. He blinked rapidly and choked on a laugh.

"Excuse me?"

"You know... when you and Stacy broke up. What did she mean by what she said?"

Ash's shoulders went up like they always did when he was about to hike the ball on a play. I was sure I'd see him blushing if there were enough light. He was always as bright as a tomato when he was caught red-handed.

"I, um... I'm not sure what you mean."

"Don't lie to me, Alexander. Everyone heard it. Tell me, who was she referring to when she said she could never be like 'her.'" I used his name like his mom used his name whenever she was disappointed in him, and his reaction was the same -- an awe-shucks drooping like a puppy that knew it did something wrong.

He turned his face away from me as he gave another nervous laugh.

"I can't say."

"You can't? Or you don't want to?"

The alcohol certainly made me audacious. My heart kept beat with the croaking frogs. It pounded against my chest.

"Well?" I prodded when he only laughed again. He turned to me to give me a face knitted with frustration.

"I don't know who she was referring to."

"That's such a terrible lie."

"Is that so?"

"Jake said it was me," I heard myself blurt out. I gasped. I held my mouth. I watched Ash cringe and shut his eyes like he wanted to die and slide into the deepest part of the lake.

"He did, huh?"

I uncovered my mouth and took a big nervous gulp as I straightened up.

Ash thinned his lips, and when he opened his eyes, he looked into mine and cautiously said, "You know, he might be onto something."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he said. He breathed out loudly and waited for my response with an awful look of embarrassment in his quivering eyes.

"Oh. I see."

"Is that all you have to say?"

It was, and it wasn't. The truth was, at that moment, my heart gushed and melted all at once. My toes were all curled up in my sandals, and I blushed as red as he blushed. It was so good to hear and made me suddenly stir-crazy to do things I've fantasized about for a long time. I sidled up closer to him and put my hand into his. I leaned into him and craned my neck to kiss him on his lips. His lips were frozen at first, but then they gave in, and they warmed to the touch of my lips, and he sighed as I sighed.

When our kiss was done, his eyes blinked open and met my eyes before darting nervously to the cabin, where our parents slept.

"Damn," he mouthed when he found my eyes again, then he did what he wanted to do more than anything else -- he kissed me back.

We had kissed before. Many times, actually. But every other kiss had always been nothing more than an innocent display of affection. The sort of kiss you'd never be embarrassed about, even in public. A peck on the cheek or the forehead or if it were on the lips, it was quick and puritan. This kiss was different. It was wet and accompanied by a pair of hearts full of fear.

We released the kiss, gazed into each other's eyes intensely, and tacitly agreed to go in for another kiss. But a noise came from the cabin, and a light flicked on. The slapping of a toilet seat going down snapped us out of our swirling desire. Snapping embers of the dying fire swirled up into the night and sizzled out.

"Time to sleep," Ash croaked.

"Yeah," I replied.

We put the fire out and went in and went to the bedroom.

We acted like nothing crazy had just happened. We said nothing to each other about the series of kisses we had just shared, which were obviously more than just innocent cousin kisses. But as I lay in bed, my mind buzzed with madness, and I knew by the way Ash kept fidgeting in his bed that his mind buzzed with the same madness. We had unfinished business, and that's what kept us up. We were both just too afraid of what finishing that business might look like to do anything about it.

His bedsprings croaked loudly, and when they did, I turned in my bed to face him. I opened my eyes and found his eyes there, filled with the liquid paleness of the moonlight.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"For what?"

"For waking you."

"I wasn't asleep," I replied.

"Oh, ok."

"I'm sorry for kissing you," I replied. "That was... out of line. It's just with you going off to boot camp and not knowing when I'd see you again; I guess I'm a little anxious and confused, and, well, I'm going to miss you a lot."

"First of all, don't apologize. I kissed you back, remember?"

"Oh, I remember."

I laughed. He laughed. Short, wooden laughter. Embarrassed laughter. The sort that came from admitting your crush on someone, which is exactly what this was. As embarrassed as I was, I was both immeasurably relieved that Ash didn't push me away and immeasurably excited that he would reciprocate.

"Secondly, it wasn't out of line. I'm glad you did it."

"So, you liked it?" I asked cautiously.

I heard him swallow.

"Yeah, I liked it. I liked kissing you."

I couldn't help but smile. I couldn't help but feel warm knowing that he liked it. I couldn't help but feel turned on. He was looking into my eyes, making me feel nice inside. I knew something else had to happen at that moment, though I wasn't sure exactly what. My mind was stirred with all sorts of fuzzy possibilities. The night could just be left, as it were. I could turn, shut my eyes, and try to sleep, knowing I was not alone. Or, I could allow the naughtier possibilities crystallize into reality. I did once, after all, and was rewarded for it.

It seemed to happen automatically, like I was in a trance, like an animal instinct inside of me, the same that told me to breathe compelled me to slip out of my bed and climb into Ash's bed.

He didn't protest. He simply moved over to give me room in his bed like he knew I would come over. The bedsprings croaked as I sidled up to him like a little spoon. He curled around me like a wing, taking me into his sheltering mass and keeping me from falling off the bed's edge, which wasn't meant to hold two bodies.

As still as he tried to remain, however, I felt him stir. More precisely, I felt his cock stir. I felt it growing against my butt. Shivers went up my back. Anxious shivers. Fearful shivers. My nearness aroused him. He shifted to move his growing cock away from me, ridiculously believing that I had not already felt it. Of course, I felt it, and it made me hot. My pussy became as wet as Pacific coast moss. My nipples tightened like I had just stepped out to a frosty morning. I wanted to feel more of his hardened cock against me. I needed to feel it. So, as he tried to edge away from me, I edged towards him, pressing my butt against his hard-on. He uttered a short groan under his breath in response but offered no resistance to my daring act. I pressed harder, then, when just the feel of his cock against my backside wasn't enough to satiate my desire, I began to grind, ever so slowly, against it. A terrible idea, I know. And I couldn't believe I was doing it. I was disgusted for doing such a slutty, dirty, taboo thing. But every inch of my soul wanted me to do it. Every inch felt it was the right thing to do because I loved and needed him. If only one universal truth existed, I wanted him inside me. And I knew, without a doubt, that the only reason he was hard right now was that he wanted to be inside me, too.

"Why are you doing this, Tori?" he asked, his voice possessing a punch-drunk lilt. A meager protest because his action betrayed the sentiment of his words. His hands ran up and down the curves of my body, revealing his hunger for me.

"Because you want me."

"W-why would you think that?"

"Because your cock is hard. Why else would you be so hard?" I ground harder against his cock, so it slid between my butt cheeks, even through the layers of our pajamas. My heart was beating rapidly. I still didn't know exactly what came over me. I'm usually as timid as a mouse. Tonight, I was a she-wolf and wanted to ravage his dark desires.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath. The sound of his last defenses crumbling. He had nothing else to do but let me give us what we had both long wanted.

I turned my head and kissed him. Not a peck. Not a tender kiss like the ones on the dock. A deep kiss, slipping my tongue into his permissive mouth. The slight stubble on his face rubbed against my face, tickling like a cat's tongue, making me want to laugh, but I didn't laugh. I couldn't. I had to keep kissing to make up for all the kissing we would miss out on when he left for boot camp. The wet sounds punctuated the chirping silence of the night.

I moved his hands into my pajama blouse. He was shy with them at first. But I didn't want him to be shy. I wanted his hands all over my body, exploring every part of me that, for as long as we have known each other, still had not known, and when they didn't do as I wanted, I guided them to my breasts and when they were there, they finally did exactly what I wanted them to, tweezing my nipples, pulling, rubbing soft circles around them to fill me with wonderful frills of pleasure. My breasts weren't perfect like Stacy's. They were tiny, but that didn't seem to worry him at all. I could feel his excitement resonating through his fingertips and his palms.

His breathing grew heavy. His cock grew harder. It throbbed. I turned fully around to feel his cock against my pussy. He was more audacious now. He pressed his cock against me, and I felt his hard tip yearn for entry, wanting to rip through the layers of our clothes if it had to.

I slipped my hand into his pajama pants again. He did not stop me this time. I found his shaft and stroked it.

Our kissing grew stronger. Wilder. He kissed my neck and my shoulder. I kissed his jawline and his collarbone. He rolled to top me and pinned me down on his cot by my wrists, and my legs came open for him as naturally. By this point, all the trepidation of forbidden love had gone out the window or, rather, had transformed into lust as unstoppable as the moon.

In that fervent lust, we fell off the cot onto the floor, bringing the blanket with us, but we didn't stop kissing each other. We crashed our clothed bodies into each other as if that was how we became unclothed. We didn't bother getting back into the cot because to do so would be to spend time not with our bodies entwined, our hands all over each other, and our tongues in each other's mouths.

Eventually, his top came off, then mine, and he brought his mouth down to my breasts, pausing to glance at me permissively before proceeding. I gave him a look that urged him to go for it.

At last, his lips touched my nipple. Then, his tongue. A sensation of both chill and warmth caused my body to seize up and my mouth to open to utter an unhinged moan. His tongue swirled around my nipple. One, then the other, then he put his mouth on other parts of me. My neck. My shoulders. My ribs. My thighs. My body sang.

I shuffled my pajama pants impatiently off, then helped him push his pajama pants down. He shuffled them off his legs. He glanced down at my reasonably kempt pussy with widened, ravished eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" he said, keeping his eyes on my pussy.

I craned my neck to kiss him tenderly and replied, "Don't you want to?"

"I don't know."

But I did know. I knew exactly what I wanted, and only he could give it to me. I couldn't let his perennial doubt stop me from getting it.

I wrapped my hand around Ash's cock and directed it into my pussy, working the tip between my pussy lips to reach the hole. I spread my legs wider and held my breath as he finally gave in to the temptation and pushed his cock into me.

As far as my sexual experiences went, I was a neophyte. Besides my fingers, I've only insertedd a few choice toys inside me. I've never had a real cock. When Ash finally acquiesced to my desire and pushed his cock into me, I was surprised with a jolt of pain. I winced.

"Sorry!" He said.

"No, it's ok. Just go slowly, okay?"

"Ok. Alright."

He found my hole again with the tip of his cock and, more gently this time, pushed it in again. It was still painful, his cock's generous girth stretching apart my tiny virgin pussy. I clenched up. I wrapped my arms tightly around Ash's broad torso for support against the pain. He pushed his cock deeper into me. Even with my wet pussy's slickness helping it in, it was painful. I dug my fingers into his muscular shoulders. He pushed deeper and deeper. I breathed out in pain, but whenever he attempted to pull out, I clamped my thighs harder around his hips to beckon him to continue. So, he continued, pushing his cock in until it filled my pussy, and then, only then, did he pull out. The feeling of it coming out was a wonderful relief. The vacuousness filled me with satisfaction as much as the pain did. A satisfaction that made me only want his cock inside me more badly.