Malleable

He pulled back, hand now firmly gripping her neck, flicked his tongue over her her lips again. "Wow. This is nicer."

Her teeth bit down, dragged over her full lower lip as she nodded agreement. They kissed again, gaining confidence, lips stretched wider as tongues grew familiar. Tosha felt his hands pulling her tight to him, her increased grip on his shoulders offering encouragement.

They were both breathing harder when they parted a second time. A deep shiver ran through Tosha at the combination of her sweaty body cooling in the shade and the inner tingly warmth of Tony's kisses, his attention focused on her so completely. She had never been kissed like that before.

Her eyes dropped. Her breath caught.

"What?" He asked softly, still massaging that sensitive nexus where the base of her skull became her slim neck, where her hair trailed off into thin, damp wisps.

His T-shirt, exposed between the unbuttoned sides of a plaid flannel shirt, clung to him below his chest where she had pressed herself against him, leaving the damp imprint of her sweat. Her fingers touched the darker cotton there.

His eyes followed her gaze down, but stopped before reaching the destination. His mouth dropped open. The cooling air and heating kisses had hardened her nipples under the damp fabric of her top. Twin points pressed out through the white clinging fabric.

She saw where he was looking, how her body had responded, and blushed.

His hand on her waist traced a line up over her slick, flat belly, fingers stopping at the elastic hem of her top. She watched in trepidation, fascination and longing as his hand slowly rotated. His thumb came up, not touching her until it met the raised, hardened point.

Tosha gasped. At the sight. At the bold, intimate touch. At the sudden sensation it sent through her. Her eyes went wide and up to his, to his face, mesmerized with wonder and concentration. His gaze dragged up from where his thumb began the softest of circles, deep eyes bright as they fixed hers with the same intense concentration she had felt in his kiss.

As light and tender as the tiny circles were, they sent tingling electricity radiating outward, downward, from her suddenly sensitized spot.

The only times in her young life Tosha had felt anything even hinting at this concentrated, energized hypersensitivity had been alone, with her most intimate thoughts. There was that one single time in bed, and another occasion in the shower, leaning back in the molded fiberglass seat, legs spread, the water's spray beating down on her, hot and relentless.

Her lips reached up this time, her tongue eager to find his, to taste the earthy tang there. The pressure of their bodies molding together trapped his hand between them, his palm now cupping and squeezing, the thumb's circles pressing her hard nub back into her softer flesh.

The kiss deepened, more frenzied. The two breathed each other's warm moist exhales until they again parted, panting. Tosha tucked her face against him, nudging up and under his jaw near his throat. The hand on her nape slid up, cradling the back of her head, holding her to him.

She surprised herself when her tongue flicked out, tasting a line along his jugular vein, feeling the delicate roughness of shaved teen whiskers. He groaned but she almost didn't hear it, feel the vibration.

Instead, she was caught off guard by the sudden lurch of his groin, a swelling hardness pushing against her belly.

She had felt boys hard against her before. Brief contacts during tussling 'Keep Away' games in the pool, and the more obvious pressures of close bodies during slow songs on the floor at school and Youth Center dances. She had been curious at times, mingled with disgust, mild or stronger, at the unasked-for attention.

Her response now was completely different, both in body and mind. She felt her face warm flush, as a deeper, more radiant warmth filled her lower body. Not electric and concentrated but general and filling, the warmth of a sun-heated boulder stretched out on after a too-long dip in chilly water.

Where the warmth penetrated deepest, though, in her lowest belly, it began a moist stirring. Not the frantic stirring she knew from the shower, but closer to the calmer but aching urge she felt easing into wakefulness from the kind of confused, tangled dream that had become more common recently.

It thrilled her, pleased her, to feel this mysterious boy-man respond against her and she leaned into the pressure, squeezing him between them. She felt his breath catch, continue in a rougher, more labored effort. With lips and tongue she tasted his throat again, lingering.

"Tosha." It was a whispered exclamation of passion and awe, requiring no answer. When her belly felt another twitching lurch from him she wriggled in a small motion, stopping just short of rolling his now rigid shaft between them.

She thrilled at her own boldness and at his obvious response. His hips pushed back into her motion before he pulled back enough to again fix her with that intense, concentrated gaze. She knew at that moment there was nothing on his mind except her.

His hand left her breast after a last slow flick over the nipple, the sensation parting her lips with a small gasp. His fingers traveled upward, settling under her chin, forcing it to tilt toward his. The feel of his strong hand, so much bigger than hers, so near to gripping her throat and yet so gentle, tightened the penetrating warmth in her belly, torsioning it into a coalescing knot of growing desire.

Holding her face, he leaned closer. She cooed in surprised delight when his nose lightly touched the side of her own, stroking along it. It was an intimate, sweet gesture, both controlled and animal, primal in nature. He followed it with a soft, lingering kiss.

"Come here." He peeled himself away from her, taking one hand in his own, leading her down a narrow path she had not even noticed before. They paralleled the stream bank for a dozen yards, ending at a small glen. A recently fallen sycamore, still covered with green leaves, shielded the spot from any eyes on the opposite bank.

Wordless, they came together, kissing deeply. Tosha leaned into him, eager to feel his swollen excitement caught again between them. He stumbled back a step, pulling her with him.

"Let's try something else." Interrupted by small, hungry nibbles at each other, he managed to pull off his flannel shirt. Spreading it on the bare, rich soil, he reclined, leading her down onto him with her hands in his.

Feeling bold, feeling desired, Tosha straddled him, her knees padded by the thick shirt, sinking down until his shaft was nestled against her, pressed against the thin nylon of her running shorts. She stroked his chest with both hands, eyes on his, as her hips began circles barely larger than the ones his thumb had made around her erect nipple. She stayed like that, gently grinding, her weight distributed between her knees and her palms exploring his upper body.

The tension in her belly continued to concentrate, to intensify. His hips began to move with hers, pushing himself up and against her. She saw his eyes leave her own, locking lower on her chest, and he groaned. Looking down, Tosha was surprised at how hard, how obvious her nipples were now before he took each breast in one rising hand.

Her hips pushed down, rocking forward to drag his hardness along the gap between her firm thighs when both nipples sent simultaneous signals of his renewed attentions. It was her turn to groan.

She made no pretense of her body's wants, grinding her thinly clad, almost throbbing cleft against his shaft, rigid inside his jeans, with increasing speed and urgency. He rolled each nipple between thumb and fingers, tugging and pulling them through the still damp material. Her thighs began to shake, the quiver she knew from opening herself, giving into the the incessant pulses of the shower's beating spray.

Their eyes again locked. She was breathing hard, far faster than when she had been running down the park trail. Could it have only been minutes ago?

Her hands clenched fistfuls of shirt and chest as her body tensed. A tingling tightness coursed from the back of her neck where his thumb had massaged her, down her arching spine. Her core twisted, knotted, coiled. And exploded.

Tosha clenched her jaw to stifle all but a thin tortured whine as the release threw her head back, her hips forward and down, her body trying to engulf Tony's stiff bulge but prevented by her gossamer shorts and his thicker jeans. The swollen tip pressed directly on her most sensitized nexus, the clothed shaft forcing her part way open with their eager grinding.

Her stiff arms supporting her above him gave way. Tosha collapsed onto him, chest heaving for air as her hips continued a slower gyration. She felt his strong arms holding her to him, one hand renewing the massage along the base of her skull, the other riding along with the motion of her lower body.

"Tosha. Tosha." He whispered, his voice strained. "That was...you are amazing."

He turned his face into her hair, kissing at the side of her head until she turned and moist lips met, panting breaths still sucking in much-needed oxygen through any available gaps.

Her hips eventually slowed to a stop. Hearts slowed as breaths returned to near normal. Kissing and soft strokes continued even as they stood again in the small private glade. Fingers entwined, noses nuzzled, bodies pressed comfortably, familiarly together. She felt none of the awkwardness of the other, very limited intimacies she had shared before this. Certainty none had gone where this one had.

She was unsure afterward who started it, but both began to giggle. Bright laughing eyes, shy conspiratory smiles, punctuated by soft moist kisses. Tony reached down, retrieved his flannel shirt, shook off crumbly loam.

Fishing in a pocket, he pulled out a compact wooden box, rounded on the edges and inlaid with a diamond pattern of lighter wood. With his thumb, he slid a narrow top along its dove-tail track, creating an opening. A hollow knurled tube of dull brass poked out.

"What's that?" Tosha was intrigued. A hint of rich, earthy fragrance escaped as he slid the top. It increased as his thumb pushed further, revealing a larger hollow beside the first.

"It's a dugout." With the main compartment open, she recognized the pungent herbal scent of marijuana. Tony slipped the brass tube out, shoving one end down into the larger hollow.

When he retrieved it, the end was packed with a small amount of crumbled, green-brown herb. "A one-hitter. Have you ever seen one?"

Tosha was intrigued, curious. She shook her head. No.

His brows briefly knit. "Have you ever gotten high?"

She nodded. Yes. In her chest, her heart was again racing. She had only smoked twice in her life. The first time, at a party, she hadn't felt much from a small puff on a joint passed around, though she had found herself spending an inordinate amount of time petting the host's cat, reluctant to enter any of the conversations buzzing around her.

The second time had been last spring, when five girls, all on the track team, gathered together for an end-of-school sleep over. Stephanie Rhodes, their tall lanky high jumper, had produced what looked like a cigarette. It was a perfectly rolled cylinder with no twisted ends, unlike the one Tosha had tried at the party. The paper wrapping was even printed a tannish yellow at one end, imitating the filter seen on most tobacco cigarettes.

Stephanie had held it between the two 'peace sign' fingers rather than the pinching method pot-smokers seemed to prefer, brought it to her lips with an exaggerated Hollywood pucker. Secluded on the far side of the house from the parents' bedroom, the girls had passed the joint around several times, along with a couple 40-ounce bottles of smuggled beer.

Loud outbursts of girlish laughter had peppered the rapid-fire, non sequitur-filled conversation that followed. Boys and kissing became a repeated theme, with Stephanie cracking the others up with her animated disgust for how a certain young man had tried to kiss her, and descriptions of how she wished he'd gone about it.

"I'll show you." Looking around. The circle, her eyes had seemed to glow when they fixed on Tosha. "Tosh, you've got those amazing full lips. You get to be my assistant."

Before she knew what she'd been volunteered for, Tosha found her head cradled in Stephanie's hands, the taller girl towering over her as she'd raised up on her knees.

Stephanie's kiss had started softly, her girl's lips smooth. Tosha was only vaguely aware of the hushed silence as the others watched, the high jumper's slowly increasing actions drawing her addled mind's full attention. Soft tugs on lips had led to gentle teases with a tongue. Lips had parted and tongues had met, danced, entwined.

Tosha's heart pounding, she'd felt a warmth concentrating deep in her belly.

"Never know with you jocks." He teased, bringing her back out of the memory.

"Especially us nerd jocks."

"Touché."

"Okay." She saw his puzzled look at her rhymed rejoinder, explained with a grin. "It means 'touch,' right? Or 'touched.' And I think I like touching you."

They kissed, the paraphernalia in his hands temporarily forgotten. The reminder of Stephanie's kiss, and others shared that night, had stirred Tosha's inner fires, blowing on coals only beginning to glow less bright. Tony's close proximity, his musky man-scent, and what he had brought out of her already, quickly warmed the coals to flame.

Eventually, the kisses and touches slowed again. Producing an old-fashioned chrome lighter, Tony set it to the packed end of his brass tube, starting a glowing ember there. He inhaled deeply, Tosha's hands on his torso moving with his rib cage as his lungs expanded.

He spoke with that constricted, breathless voice used to consciously hold in a lungful of smoke. "Exhale. Then breath in slowly as I blow out."

He slipped his hand to the back of her head, guiding and holding her mouth close to his. Again, his touch at the base of her skull along her rear hairline thrilled her. More than thrilled, it impacted, moved her.

With his lips open an inch away from hers, he blew out a slow steady stream of smoke. Tosha sucked in, expanding her chest. She felt her lungs fill, her capacity for more reached before his more measured exhale ended. He blew the remaining smoke away from her, out the side of his mouth.

"Hold it in." He whispered it, leaning in so his moving lips brushed lightly over hers. His touches, his nearness, and the intoxicating smoke rapidly entering her bloodstream had her mind in a whirl before she exhaled, coughing as she did. Even the coughing seemed to increase her sense of euphoria.

She felt a loss when his hand left her neck to refill and light again the small pipe. Tosha melted into him when he positioned her to take a second hit from his lungs. She breathed in more slowly this time, and their lips and tongues met while the smoke still filled her, her expanded chest pressed hard against him.

Regretfully, she pulled away from the kiss to exhale, seeing a much larger plume of smoke than her first attempt had produced.

Tony's features seemed etched more deeply to her, his lips the most attractive, desirable lips she'd ever seen. She felt she understood the deep concentrated focus she had seen in his gaze. She shuddered as his thumb again massaged, harder now, along the lowest edge of her skull.

She leaned hard against him, on her toes, kissing him, as her tongue sought out his, hungry and eager. His other hand found her round, firm cheek in her thin shorts, pulling her against him.

Tosha groaned, the heat in her core rising rapidly. Her hips pushed against him, his squeezing hand encouraging their rhythm. She forgot the glen, the stream, everything but the beautiful mystery man holding her close, meeting her ardent kisses with his own. His scent filled her nose as she felt him once more swell to hardness against her belly.

She moved closer against him, her body beginning a dance older than the species, one that she had not yet completed in her young life. Her earlier release had been powerful, somehow deeper than she had yet experienced, but her core whispered without words that they was much, much more where that came from, levels of pleasure she could hardly imagine.

She moaned into his mouth, the tension in her gut more intense, more demanding than ever. If she had been able to think clearly, to compare rationally, she would have deemed her most intense experiences in the shower, under the directed pulsing spray, as the merest hint, the barest flicker of shadow in Plato's cave, of her current state.

She felt pressure building in her head, behind her eyes. Tension twisting in her belly, heat and moisture between her legs. A vibrant electricity, almost a radiant light unseen, shooting down the length of her spine from where his hand still moved, massaging, encouraging.

Her back arched, thrusting her lower body hard into him. His hand left her bottom, the arm wrapping deep around her waist, catching her from falling backward with the force of her own response. She screamed hoarsely into his mouth as light exploded in her head.

It felt so good to just rest here, on him, his breath warm and moist by her ear. Rest in a daze, in a blissful cloud.

"Am I still keeping you from your run?" His voice was blurry, relaxed. And so sweet. He nibbled at the ear his breath had been teasing. "You only gave me a minute or two and that was just to see the trout.

"The trout!" She pushed herself up. "I forgot about the trout."

"What?" He looked even cuter when he was befuddled. This was the first time she'd seen him that way.

Tosha grinned down at him. "I think the fish might have been traumatized by having to witness this."

"This? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?"

They both laughed, avoiding each other's eyes as they scrambled to their feet.

"Uh, Tony?" Looking down away from his face, the large wet spot on the crotch of his pants was obvious. "Am I responsible for that or are you?"

He looked down at himself. His head came up, mouth open in silent surprise. After that brief shock he scrambled into motion, to his feet, clutching the flannel between them, eyes lowered and cheeks reddening.

Tosha couldn't help it: she laughed. He was so cute, especially showing this vulnerable, embarrassed side. There was a flash, so brief she wasn't sure she'd seen it. Brows knit close and his already dark brown eyes seemed almost black. Anger. Or something more primal than that. It was gone immediately, replaced with a sly smile.

"Uh, Tosh?" She felt an immediate warmth at the name.

"Hmm?"

"I'm not the only one with a wet spot." His chin indicated where he wanted her to look, at her own tight shorts. They were black, but a deeper darkness had spread between her thighs.

It was Tosha's turn to offer a slack-jawed response. Their eyes met before they shared another laugh, one tinged with more nervous energy.

"Uhm, let me think." He paused, then held out the flannel shirt. "Tie this around your waist. No one will see."

She looked at him, shaking her head, though a part of her felt a thrill at the offer, at wearing Tony Garcia's shirt home, maybe even sleeping with it on tonight, treated to more of his wonderful scent.

"Don't you think being seen with your own wet pants while I suddenly have a man's shirt wrapped around my hips over bare legs might look...more questionable?

"Everyone knows girls have tiny bladders. I'll take the hit on this one...since you were nice enough to share a hit with me."

"Clever girl."

"Sexy man." Her own boldness pleased her.

"See you tomorrow?"