Bobby's Metamorphosis, Love's Spark

The words of an old song wound through my mind: "Anticipation' by Carly Simon.

We can never know about the days to come
But we think about them anyway
And I wonder if I'm really with you now
Or just chasin' after some finer day
Anticipation, anticipation
Is makin' me late
Is keepin' me waitin'

I had some anticipation about stretching out in that backyard again. I was thinking of some woman's flesh and maybe...what? Not much 'what,' I figured as I crossed the road, knowing Gaylan would also be beside me. Still, it was a thought, and I didn't want anticipation making me late or keepin' Sara waitin.'

Walking up the gravel drive, I saw the garage door open and stepped to the side. Gaylan was backing the van out and stopped when he spotted me.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Gaylan."

"I'm headed into town to pick up some things, maybe check in on an appointment at the dentist."

"So...no sun today?"

Gaylan smiled as I looked away, realizing how dumb that sounded.

"Tell you what, Bobby, Sara could use some company while I'm gone. The backdoor is open. Just holler and let her know you're there. She'll answer."

With that, he eased off the brake and backed down the driveway. I stood watching as he shifted into drive and headed toward town.

"Sara! It's me, Bobby."

"Hey, come in. I'm down the hallway, first left."

"Hi," I greeted her, glancing around the room at all the equipment.

"Hey, yourself," she replied. "Looks like a hospital, right?"

"Kinda, a hospital with a built-in gym," I responded, looking over the room, my eyes returning to her stretched-out form lying on the bed.

"Gaylan said he was going to town and had a doctor's appointment--a dentist. So, he said you could use some company."

Sara grinned and then broke into her infectious smile. "Gaylan's teeth are perfect. He just said that probably to give us some time together."

She added, "Company would be nice. And the nice thing about the company is that they don't mind being put to work. You'd help a girl out with that, right, Bobby?"

"I suppose." My response was hesitant, as I considered what kind of help a paralyzed girl would need.

"Gaylan hasn't worked my legs today. How about you give that a try?"

"I...okay," I stammered, unsure of what or how to work out someone's legs. Especially someone's legs that didn't move of their own accord.

"Okay," she began. "First, you must know I have no feeling in my legs. So, it would be best to go easy and gently using light pressure. Because of that, I can't tell you how much force it takes to work them. I mean, I won't be able to cry, 'Ouch!'"

"Got it," I answered.

"Lotion is on the rolling table, top shelf, first bottle," she said, as she tugged the sheet up to expose her feet with all ten dainty toes done in red nail polish.

"Does your mom do these for you?" I asked, beginning to gently apply a dab of lotion to the top of her foot and slather it between her toes.

"Gaylan's work," she answered, then smiled at my surprise. "Yeah, he's unique that way."

I nodded, working my way up the ankle to her knee and then over to repeat the other leg. I massaged the lower calves of her legs, trying to knead each one and work the muscles. It was my first experience, so I wasn't sure of the technique, but Sara didn't complain. She just smiled that Cheshire cat grin as I held her leg up.

"Umm," she sighed.

"I thought you didn't feel anything in your legs?"

"Nope. Nothing. But I try to show appreciation to whoever works on my legs. I watch and think about how it felt when I could sense a soft caress there. Phantom leg sensations in the muscles, the doctor said once. All in the mind, Bobby, all in the mind. Lots of things are locked up in the mind, Bobby."

Her words seemed to intimate more than just phantom leg pains floating around in that cute body. I started to cap the bottle when Sara spoke up, "Hey, you're not done yet!"

"More?"

"There's more to a leg than below the knee, silly."

She pulled the sheet higher, exposing most of what I had seen yesterday. The splayed gap between her thighs, where the sun had tanned her, was visible now. She was as smooth as a Georgia peach at the apex of her thighs. I stared like a zombie.

"Hey, my eyes are up here." She grinned, good-naturedly.

I nodded vigorously. Dry-lipped, I poured lotion into the palm of my hand and gently worked her upper leg, lifting it to apply lotion beneath and up her thigh. I followed with the other side hovering between her inner thighs, growing closer to her sex--the unexplored territory of a girl, a place explored only in my dreams and imagination. I had my hands roaming there.

"Umm," she sighed, her eyes closed, and her breathing deepened as my fingertip grazed those protruding lips.

"No."

"I...thought you didn't have any feelings--"

"In my legs, Bobby. I never said my vagina was dead." She had that how-dare-you look.

My thoughts were racked with guilt. I expected to face Gaylan's wrath when he returned, and Sara filled his ear with what I'd done.

"Bobby, it's okay. It felt good. I said no because that hydrating lotion can't go there. Understand?"

"Then?"

"Wash your hands, silly man."

I was quick and back from the hallway bath faster than a speeding bullet. I was eager to explore a subject that, so far in my life, had only played out in my imagination.

"House rules, Bobby. First, what goes on in this room stays in this room. Understand?"

"Yes," was all I managed to whisper, as I nodded in acquiescence.

"Second, nothing goes in there that...squirts. You understand that, too?"

I hesitated, struggling to come to grips with that.

"Bobby!" Her edge snapped me back to reality.

"Yes. Yes. I...got it. Okay, Sara. I understand." I managed to get that out, still thinking about the swell in my pants and how it longed to slide into a girl.

"Okay, Bobby, what do you want to know?"

"Know? I guess...how to...make...have sex. Get a girl to, you know...put out."

My words were jumbled and stammering, and what came out sounded crude. But she asked, and so I answered honestly. My eyes were focused on a smooth set of secondary lips yet to be explored, and the signal between my vision neurons was not communicating with the synapses in my prefrontal cortex very well. Hiding away in the corner of the public library and reading about sex was a hell of a lot different than looking at the view in real life.

"Let's save the 'sweet talk' for another day, Bobby," she chuckled. "You're too wound up for that kind of lesson."

"Then what kind of lesson?"

"Ever heard of the story of Sleeping Beauty?"

"Of course," I said, wondering about kissing a damsel and waking her up.

"In my version, Bobby, Briar Rose is asleep, naked in the forest, and a charming prince finds her and explores every inch of her body before he wakes her up," her husky voice set that scene in my mind.

"I'm going to close my eyes, my prince, and you...explore to your heart's content."

With those words, she eased the sheet off the top of her body, casting it onto the floor, and closed her eyes as though in a trance. It made things so damn easy. I had permission to roam and do anything except put cream inside her.

My fingers moved tentatively, gliding between her thighs, and then realized she had no sense of touch lower down. I moved to the plump peach and circled that gently for a moment. Sara did her best to hold still, but her head eased back into the pillow, though not a word slipped from her lips. Those chestnut-colored eyes stayed closed. The silence encouraged my move to roam to her breasts and play with them, to roll those pink turgid buds with my tongue and suck them in one at a time.

Sara was a good game player and 'slept' soundly, as I cupped her sex and wiggled my thumb into her outer folds. They grew moist as her breathing elevated. Sleeping Beauty was stirring as I explored those folds, slid a finger inside, and withdrew it, repeating the movements, listening to her breathing grow stronger. Coated with the moisture within, I pulled it out and traced her mons. Still, she tried to remain still, though I watched her lips purse as she breathed more heavily.

When I used my other hand to part the outer folds, I found the famous pleasure button, her clitoris, and touched it gently with a moist fingertip from the secretions that oozed from her slit. She jerked in response, and a slight gasp squeaked out, as both her hands grabbed the bedsheet beneath her and held on tightly.

My lips, at that point, were above her mons. Guys had talked about eating pussy in the locker room. This close, and I thought, why not give it a try?

The tale of Sleeping Beauty took a turn in the story as my lips touched down above her mons. Sara gasped, and her hands seized my head.

"Damn, Bobby, stop teasing and eat me already."

"Put your tongue to work!" she huffed, and guided my head down as I flicked my tongue out. "There, right, damn, there!" she cried, as I found her swollen clit and rolled it around. I kept up the lapping, despite the increasing distinctive taste and musky scent. What I did seemed to be precisely what Sara needed.

"God. Don't stop!" she hissed, pulling my head tightly against her mons. I didn't.

Her voice rose in pitch as she cried out, "Damn. Damn. Fuck!"

Amidst the heated moment, her hands jerked, and her fist full of my hair tightened. I felt a ripple of stomach muscles roll against my forehead, as she shuddered, and pushed my head away. I'd witnessed a female orgasm that rose to the level of primordial jacking off I'd experienced late at night, thinking about that imaginary girl I'd hoped to slam in the back of a pickup truck one day. Today, I was halfway there.

Briar Rose's head of hair was a mess of tangles as it dropped back into the pillow, and her chest heaved under the exertions of an intense orgasm. Her hard, cone-shaped nipples had softened and seemed to have melted down. In post-euphoria, those eyes fluttered rapidly and then closed. The pursed lips melted into a euphoric smile as the chestnut-brown orbs reappeared and tried to focus on me.

"Bobby, that was damn good for a first-time effort. Thank you. I needed that."

I watched Sara shift on the bed as she rose on an elbow, strained to rise, and slipped back down.

"Fuck," she blurted. "Bobby, crank the bed up at the foot, clockwise, to raise the top."

I found the upper crank and spun it around until she was nearly upright.

"Fine, now the back pillow on the chair over there," she said, pointing to the corner chair. I slid it behind her and stepped back to take in a naked, sweaty girl propped up in a hospital bed. Even now, the look was still that image of Briar Rose or maybe Eve in the Garden I had thought of yesterday. Damn, beautiful and so lusty.

She looked at me, taking in my idiotic grin, I suppose because she smirked, "Most good men wouldn't stop at one orgasm; they'd deliver at least another. So don't go thinking you've conquered Mount Everest yet."

I took that as a compliment anyway, from the smile that lit up her face right after the words spilled out.

"I'm up for another lesson." I was thinking about more probing to see if it was confirmed that women could have more than one orgasm so quickly.

"I see that. The bulge in your pants says you need some relief," she shot back. "Off with your pants," she ordered.

"But, ..." I hesitated, "what if Gaylan returns early?"

Sara's devilish smile told me she didn't care, as she asked, "I've seen guys jump into a tee shirt and pants like yours and tie their tennies in under two minutes."

Thinking the sound of the van coming into the driveway would give me that much alert time, I liked her answer and began shucking clothing. I was out of them in under a minute, naked and smiling like a cat looking at a fresh dish of cream.

"Next time, ditch the underwear, Bobby," she mused as I balanced on one leg to get the briefs off. "You'll enjoy the feel of the fabric on your bare cock as you cross the road ... it's very arousing, so guys tell me after they first try it."

She extended her hand, palm out. It didn't take a genius to read that offer. I stepped forward, and her fingers wrapped around my cock, gently coddling my cock without moving. The sensation of another's hand wrapped around it was amazingly different than my fisting. It felt damned nice.

The fantastic sensation caused me to jerk as she pushed back my foreskin, exposing the plum-colored head of my glans. I was in Heaven. I sucked in a deep breath of air. It was a scent I'd never forget as the whiff of lilacs drifted through the screen of her bedroom window, and the summer breeze stirred her lace curtains.

"Damn, that's nice," I huffed.

"Nice and hard, too. Like this?" Sara crooned as she began gentle, slow strokes back and forth, covering and re-exposing my glans.

"Ah," I exclaimed, as my eyes closed. It always seemed to be that way when the intensity of masturbation overwhelmed me. I guess that helped insulate the tactile senses from the visual ones as my breathing grew raspy.

Her hand stopped, but held me firmly. My eyes opened immediately at the loss of the sheer joy of a dainty fist pistoning my cock.

"Don't worry, Bobby. Working at this angle is too hard for me; it tires my arms. Straddle me, put your hands on the headboard and your knees alongside my hips."

It didn't take a geometry lesson to see where this was going. I leaned forward as she grasped my cock. I jerked in response as her lips met the crown; she took me into her mouth and rolled her tongue around. Jesus. My knees flexed against her hips, tightening against her like a vice.

She giggled.

"I see you like that big boy. I'll go slow but don't worry if you cum quickly the first time. It's usually that way. Then it gets better the more experience you get."

I was certainly up for more experience. My breathing accelerated as her lips and tongue worked me over until I was nearly in a state of delirium. Still, I stifled the groans that wanted to burst out. I was afraid she would stop or...find it foolish to show those emotions. I guess she knew a thing or two about that.

"You can let it out, Bobby. It will feel better if you do. Talk to me...please tell me what you like. Do you like your dreams of what you want to do to a girl? Talk dirty if you want."

"Jesus, Sara. There aren't any girls like you at Graystone High. You're one in a million. You know that, right?"

I felt her head nod, 'Yes.'

She kept up her slurping and answered in between, "Sure, Bobby...one in a million...whose legs don't work. That's a big drawback."

"Right now, Sara," I panted, "you're giving me an amazing...gift."

Sara couldn't thank me at that point; she was preoccupied with bobbing her head back and forth like one of those fascinating wooden drinking birds whose bill dipped almost perpetually into a glass of water.

Her glucking sounds rhythmically increased, as I clenched a fist full of hair, pressing her face forward, intensifying my pleasure as I began to thrust. My eyes blurred for a moment. I closed them, feeling my cock hitting the back of her throat, then burying itself as a stream gushed up from my gonads to splash against her tonsils. Damn, that was hot.

"Jesus, Bobby," she gasped, as her head came up for air, "you can't do that shit without a girl getting a chance to breathe."

Through my heaving for air, I came to realize that as she dropped her head back, choking and spitting up white fluid. I watched as she coughed a couple more times. My breathing evened out, as I squatted on my haunches with my toes curled underneath.

"Sorry," I said, realizing she didn't enjoy that as much as I did.

"I'll live."

"But..."

"Stop apologizing," she countered and gave a light chuckle. "I could have squeezed your balls to stop it...if I'd wanted to."

My eyes widened at realizing how that would have gone. She broke into a giggle at that.

"You've got the best of both worlds, Bobby," she signed as she touched my nipple.

It sent a shockwave, like an electrical charge, straight to my dick; I jumped.

"Meaning?" I hissed, jerking in response. Sara chuckled again.

"Meaning, there are a lot of girls who are into guys with long hair, especially with the feminine features you have going for you--those girlish lips and nearly hairless body. Get that pubic hair removed, and you'll make a wonderful lover."

"Really?" I asked, surprised at her remark.

"Really. Snarky girls have hidden agendas, Bobby," she sighed. "Some try to hide those feelings about being with another girl, as well. You would fill the void for them; you're so beautiful. Women could close their eyes and think about another woman as you made love to them—even if they wouldn't tell you that."

"Not to girls at Graystone High," I answered emphatically, thinking about the snarky remarks from the pom-pom girls.

"Really, Bobby, you've got the androgynous model look going for you. How about guys, then?"

"What?" I asked, still wedged between her thighs with my glistening dick drooping.

I shook my head in disbelief at her matter-of-fact questioning. Sara turned out to be one strange girl with a mindset different from our village's.

"Hey, yeah. Guys, at school. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it or had some guy hitting on you?"

Her eyes widened as her head cocked in that girl-like inquisitive look. It was still slick with saliva from my first blowjob—my first gift.

"Are you kidding me? I get shit from jocks about my looks all the time. It ain't friendly either."

"You get shit, I suppose, when they are in a gang or a crowd, right? But not just one-on-one?" she asked, her brows raised as her lips pursed as if to drive home her point.

I had to stop and think about that. My mind was focused on watching her small pear-shaped breasts and a soft, pink nipple perched upon each one—nubbins ripe for a playful lick.

Shrugging, I shook my head. "Never thought about that. I don't recall being alone."

I knew that was a lie.

It happened in a moment of embarrassment. 'Marvin the Moose' happened upon my corner of the library, where I researched sex topics in the few books allowed in the high school library on the subject. He stood watching me for a while before I became aware. I could tell by his startled look when I glanced up and caught him staring. He glanced away, looking around to see if anyone was watching. I could see the bulge in his pants. He freaked out.

"Sorry!" Moose gasped.

Then he turned and hurried away. Neither of us mentioned it, ever. And he seemed nervous whenever we chanced to be close to each other. I figured him to be a closet freak.

"No," I repeated the lie. "Never had a guy come on to me when I was alone."

Sara nodded, as a light crease in her cheeks formed a wry smile and seemed to betray the fact she didn't believe me. With both hands, she reached out as I knelt over her legs, letting her fingernails delicately press into both my nipples.

"Shit!" I hissed, sucking in air between clenched teeth.

The sensation of her nails pressing my sensitive nipples hit me by surprise. I'd never felt that before. It was like getting poked by the electrical fence—damn surprising, but nice. The second time, she circled them before flicking her nail across. The electrical surge of pleasure ran straight to my cock.

"Got to remember you are really sensitive there when we do this again, Bobby."

"Time for you to get dressed, lover," she said, "and get me some fresh washcloths and a towel to clean up the spill on aisle three."

I snatched up my clothing, grinning, and swaggered out. I wiped myself down in the hall bathroom, looking at the long-haired blond, just-suck-off guy, in the mirror who was gloating back at me.