Knee Socks Ch. 02

"It's OK," Sarah keeps on caressing him, unable to contain herself. It feels so strange and different from everything she knew that it's almost frightening in its intensity, "I just want to make you happy."

"You are," he replies quietly, his lips quivering.

Pulling his hard, veiny cock free from his trousers, Sarah gives a few gentle licks to its bulging head as she strokes it, sensing immediately how violently he is trembling under her and how hard he is trying to contain his moans. His fingers tightening in her hair so much that her scalp hurts, Andrew breathes heavily through his mouth, hissing now and then through gritted teeth. As she takes it entirely into her mouth, he emits a long, deep sigh and spasms a little, his slender body twisting underneath her. His moans grow louder as she starts to bob her head up and down along his shaft, her tongue licking and swirling, using the back of her mouth to suck gently its head. Sensing the unusually violent convulsions of his body and the loudness of his ragged breath, she lifts her eyes up to look at him. A deep flush spreading across his face contorted in pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut, the muscles on his naked torso strained and clearly defined, his hair disheveled from the uncontrollable thrashing of his head against the pillow, he looks so beautiful that she feels like her breath is being taken away. She has never experienced such elation before, the pure bliss of being able to give so much to him. She wants him to come. She wants everything from him and for him.

"Sarah," he breathes, "I can't -- I have to --"

Without answering, she pumps her mouth up and down around his cock faster and harder, sensing it swallow and harden further as she goes on. With a deep grunt and a series of sudden jerks of his hips, he comes into her mouth, and she takes it all, swallowing the warm, salty spurts of his cum down her throat as the spasms of his body gradually subside. Pulling his cock slowly out of her mouth and licking the remaining cum on it clean, Sarah swallows hard, trying to wash the taste of sperm in her mouth down with her saliva. Looking up, she finds Andrew staring at her in pure wonder, and can't help chuckling.

"There's...water on the desk," he says self-consciously, turning his eyes away, sitting up a bit from the bed and placing a pillow under his waist, pointing to a plastic bottle on his desk, "if you want to."

"Thanks."

Taking a few gulps to wash that taste down, she puts the bottle back down on the desk and flops down onto the bed beside him, snuggling up against him and leaning her head on his shoulder. Andrew strokes her hair absently, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. Her hair has gone back to being frizzy, having dried up after the shower. She doesn't feel they need to talk. She only feels tired, and wants to fall asleep against him.

"Do you feel cold?" Sarah hears him ask her in a gentle voice.

"A bit, yeah."

Andrew spreads his covers over themselves, tugging her in carefully. It feels warm and safe like a cocoon, his body a steady source of warmth. Many random things spring to her mind unbidden, their grandparents' house in the countryside, their late grandfather who used to read them poetry when they were little in the sunlit living room on summer afternoons that smelled like dandelions and ripe peaches. The breeze through her hair as she and Andrew frolicked about in the front garden full of white roses as pure as moonlight. They ate sandwiches and fresh fruit cakes under the knotty old willow tree, and if she raised up her head, she could see its snowy fluffs swirling and fluttering down through the moist air to land gently on little Andrew's blond hair. She doesn't know whether she is dreaming. She only feels safe in the darkness with him by her side.

"Sarah," someone is calling her. She doesn't want to wake up, "Sarah."

A gentle nudge on her shoulder. "Sarah. They're back."

"What? Who?" She mumbles, dazed. She doesn't know where she is. A warm hand covers her mouth hurriedly to shush her.

"Shh. Mom and Dad. The light is still on in your room."

Sarah blinks. Rubbing her bleary eyes, she sits up slowly on Andrew's bed. He is on his feet before his bed, his face turned in her direction. She can't make out the expression on his face in the dark.

"I don't want to go," she flops back down onto the bed, curling up under his covers and closing her eyes, "come back in, Andrew."

"I have to turn off the light in your room," he whispers, a bit anxious. The sound of running water is coming from the bathroom. Olivia and Daniel must be washing before bed, "I don't know if they've tried to check in on you. I hope not."

"I don't want to go," Sarah murmurs, repeating herself like a willful child. Andrew leans down and presses a kiss onto her hair.

"I'll turn it off once they're done."

Sarah drifts off again.

She wakes up when Andrew is sliding under the covers next to her. The house has been plunged into total silence and darkness, only the street lamps outside the window of his room casting a faint glow on the floor through the opaque curtains. Reaching out one hand instinctively in search of his, her mind still groggy, she finds herself enfolded in his arms, his breath gentle and warm against her neck, his heartbeat steady in sync with hers.

"Sleep, Sarah," he whispers, "you're tired."

She sinks into a dreamless slumber.