Melting the IcebyJayDavid©
My girlfriend Tess was almost perfect. She had been my best friend since middle school, long before I even noticed that she was a girl. She was smart, funny, loved to watch sports on TV, had great musical taste and cursed like a sailor, when her parents weren't around. She was also incredibly beautiful. Her auburn hair cascaded around a pretty face, highlighted by legitimately green eyes and lush, red pillowy lips. She had creamy, strong shoulders, and toned arms. Her breasts? They were big enough to attract stares, but not too big, and sat proudly on her torso above a flat belly. Her legs were strong, long and well shaped. Even her feet were beautiful, her toes straight, nails well groomed and skin smooth, with a high arch. Her hands were smooth and her fingers long and straight. She kept her fingernails pretty short, with only smooth polish.
From middle school to high school, our relationship progressed from friends to dating, to going steady, all without any real discussion. It just was the way it was. We spent most of our free time together, and every day that we were together, I reminded myself how lucky I was to have Tess in my life. Our parents were friends, and mine adored Tess, and hers really seemed to like me, although they were definitely more reserved than my parents, who often touched and kissed in front of me and my sister. We had, pretty much, free run of each others' houses and spent hours together, working on projects for school, watching TV and videos, playing video games, messing around on the Internet and eating.
I did say that Tess was almost perfect, but by the summer before we went to college, her one imperfection had grown in my mind to the point that I actually considered breaking up with her for good, this time. Which would have been awkward, because we had decided to go to the same college. I assume that any man, and even most women, reading this could guess what my problem with Tess was. Right-she was a serious prude. And that is what this story is about.
Being a red blooded teenager, spending so much time with my beautiful girlfriend made me incredibly horny. Ultimately, in 10th grade, Tess kissed me, but with no tongue, which only became available to me at the end of the year, and then only fleetingly. At the start of 11th grade, after months of slapping my hands away, she let me touch, but not rub, her breasts, but only over her shirt. And below the waist—let's just say that my forays into that region were consistently and strongly rebuffed. My whining pleas for her to help relieve my raging hard-ons were met with a crinkled nose (which made her look so damn cute) and the word "Gross."
Every time I heard that one of my friends had advanced to another "base" with his girlfriend, I was jealous. But I wasn't upset because I was losing some race, it was because I really wanted our relationship to progress and to be able to give each other pleasure. I wanted to make her feel good as much as I wanted her to give me pleasure. O.K, maybe not as much, but it was pretty close. Really.
So, why did I put up with this, and how? "Why" is easy—I was in love with Tess. Wildly in love. I was happy when I was with her, if sexually frustrated, and sad when we were not together. And "how" is probably pretty obvious. Internet porn and lots of jerking off, for the most part.
At the beginning of the summer after 11th grade, I felt like I couldn't take it anymore. It was a Friday afternoon, and I was sitting, as I often did, on Tess' bed, and she was leaning against me as we watched some old TV show on her laptop. As always, she smelled amazing, and I buried my nose in her beautiful hair. Ignoring the laptop, I looked down and could actually see a way down Tess' shirt. I couldn't see much, but the view of her pale chest, the curve of the top of her breasts, a bit of cleavage and her utilitarian white bra was enough to make me hard. Which, of course, Tess felt against her back, and when she shifted her body to avoid the hardness, it only made it worse.
"Are you staring down my shirt, Alex?" she asked, not in a sexy way, but in an accusing way.
"Yes," I said, "And I like what I see, and I really wish you would let me touch you there." Over the years, I had stopped trying to play games with Tess, and we generally said what we wanted to each other. It mostly kept things open and worked, but occasionally, someone took offense, which we usually patched up a day or two later.
"I do let you," she said.
"Yeah, but barely, and only over your clothes," I sort of whined.
"Why is that so fucking important to you?" she asked.
"Because you are gorgeous, and I love you, and I want to feel your beautiful body and give you pleasure," I blurted out, for what seemed the millionth time.
"I'm not ready," she said, primly.
I started to get angry. "Elana and Bill are having sex. Jeannie and Mike are, too. Janet and Elliot might as well be, considering what I hear they are doing. And they all say it is fun and feels good. And they feel closer to each other."
Tess snapped back, "That's not what I hear, at least not from Elana. And anyway, we are already close. Why do we need sex? Look what happened when Emily and Howard did it? They broke up right away."
"Yeah, but that is a bad example. Howard is an idiot, and Emily is a crazy paranoid jealous bitch. They weren't a good couple. We are." I paused, and tried to speak more calmly. "Tess, I want you badly. I'm not saying we need to go right to sex right away, but I need more. I just don't understand why you won't. We've always been honest with each other, but you have never explained to me why you are open to me in every way except this."
I'm not sure Tess really thought about what she said next, but she sat up and spat back at me, "If you aren't getting what you need from me, then maybe we aren't the good couple you think."
I know that I wasn't thinking clearly, but I was pissed and my frustration just boiled over. "Then maybe we should break up," I said, almost shouting. I stood up and walked out so that Tess couldn't see me crying. I heard a sob coming from her room, but I couldn't turn back.
It was a hot day, and it took a while for the a/c in my car to make a difference, so I was sweating, in part, from the heat. As I drove home, I couldn't believe that I did it, but I found myself getting angrier and angrier with Tess. Why was she frustrating me so? I was honest with her, and I can't believe that after all these years, and our friendship, she thought that I would hurt her in any way. The truth was exactly the opposite. I wanted to suck on what I assumed were her beautiful nipples until she moaned with lust. I wanted to lick what had to be her perfect pussy until she screamed with delight, and I wanted to fill her with my hard cock until she came repeatedly, yelling my name. I had dreamt of that for years. But apparently that was not going to happen.
I went home, stormed upstairs, changed into my work clothes, avoided my parents and my little sister, and drove to the restaurant where I was a busboy and sometimes waiter.
About midway through my shift, I took a break and grabbed some food for a quick dinner. I was joined, as I occasionally was, by Lara, a summer waitress who was a couple of years older than me and had finished her first year in college. She had gone to high school a few towns over, and we had met at the restaurant. Although we had worked together for a couple of years, we really didn't talk much on breaks, simply refueling and resting for the rest of the shift. I thought she was O.K. looking, with a nice set of tits, but her nose was a little big, and her hips were maybe a little wider than average.
"Why are you so pissy tonight?" she asked, taking a bite of the burger that the restaurant let the waitstaff eat.
"Is it so obvious?" I asked.
"Yeah. Usually you are Mr. Happy, smiling and all, and today, you seem like you want to kill someone."
She smiled at me to signify that she was joking, and I thought that maybe she was prettier than I remembered. "I broke up with my girlfriend about 3 hours ago," I said. It was easier to tell someone who didn't really know me or Tess, than a friend who would probably freak out about the end of the town's longest running relationship.
"Sorry. That sucks," she said, taking another bite. "Why?" she asked.
I was surprised that she asked—I figured that most people wouldn't go that far with a relative stranger, but on the other hand, there were people who just needed to know gossip, even if they didn't know the people involved all that well.
"Well," I said, hesitantly, "she kinda, wouldn't—"
Lara interrupted, smiling a little fiendishly, "She wouldn't fuck you?"
I was a little taken aback, but nodded, and said, "Worse, she wouldn't do anything past a little kissing and letting me touch her breasts over her shirt."
Lara shook her head with the worldliness of a college freshman and asked, "How long have you been dating."
"Basically since middle school," I said, sheepishly.
"And you held on this long with no action?" she said, incredulous.
I nodded. "She is amazing in every other way, and I love her, but I finally couldn't take it anymore," I explained. "We fought, and I broke up with her." I was angry and hurt, but still wished that we were together.
"Well," Lara said, "I think I know what you need. Some of my friends from high school are having a little party in Thompson Park tonight. I'm heading over after my shift. Why don't you come along, have a few beers and try to forget."
I knew that wouldn't get me to forget Tess, or how crappy I felt, but it seemed like a pretty good plan under the circumstances. I finished my shift, texted my father that I was going out, and found Lara, who had changed from her uniform into a pair of tight jeans and a low cut t-shirt. The jeans hugged her hips and butt, and rather than making them look big, it looked sexy. And the t-shirt highlighted her impressive breasts, and showcased her tan cleavage. Her nose was still a little big, but she looked pretty good, and she had a certain look in her eye that was promising. I followed her to the employee lot, and trailed her car to the park.
It was a warm, sultry night and suffice to say, feeling as down as I did, I had a few cold beers, sometimes pressing the cold, sweating bottle against my forehead. Lara convinced me to take a walk in the park, where we kissed and we got progressively naked. I truly enjoyed doing things with her that Tess would not allow, but before we went too far, I asked, "Is this a pity thing?"
Lara looked at me, and I took my eyes off of her large areolae and hard, dark nipples for a second and looked her in the eyes. "To be fair," she said, "it is a little. A nice looking, nice guy like you should not be a virgin at your age—how old are you, by the way?"
"Eighteen and a half," I said, realizing that I sounded like a little kid—"Almost 19."
She smiled, I assumed at my immaturity, and said, "but in part, not. I broke up with my boyfriend at the end of the semester, and I'm kind of horny. So I see this as a win-win. Now, do you want to talk, or do you want to fuck?"
We dropped to the grass and very shortly thereafter, I was no longer a virgin. I could go into detail about what we did that night, or most nights for the rest of the summer (and a few afternoons), but that is not what this story is about. What I will say is that Lara taught me that I had been right—sex is fun, it feels good and it does bring a couple closer. She also taught me what gave her pleasure and how to give it to her, and I learned what I liked. Lara was a smart, interesting woman. We enjoyed each other's company and had a great summer, but when she had to go back to school, I was sad, but not heartbroken. We promised to see each other over her breaks, and that I would visit her at school, but it never happened.
During that summer, I ran into Tess occasionally, sometimes when I was with Lara, and it was incredibly awkward and painful, because I still loved her. I never saw her with another guy, and never saw anything on Facebook that indicated that she was seeing anyone. Considering her obvious charms, I figured that either her frigid reputation had gotten around, or that she was just not interested.
On the Saturday of Labor Day Weekend, right before school started, I got a text from Tess—the first one since we had broken up. "Meet me at noon," was all that it said. Since she didn't say where, I assumed that she meant our place at the creek in Ridge Park. Obviously, it wasn't "our" place, but we had been going there forever, to sit on the bank of the creek, tossing rocks and crap in, and talking. It was also where I first held Tess' hand (other than as her buddy on an elementary school class trip), and where I first kissed her (when we weren't playing spin the bottle in middle school). I knew that she chose the place for a reason, but I wasn't sure yet what the reason was. But I could hope.
When I got there, Tess was already in our spot. Although it was a hot summer day, it was cooler under the trees. As I approached, I could see her back, and her hair tumbling down freely. Then I could see that she was wearing shorts, displaying her long, beautiful pale legs. I felt that same happy feeling that I always had in her presence, a feeling that I had missed for the past couple of months. But now it was tempered with a twinge of regret along with a great deal of lust. I thought of how much I wanted to do to and with Tess what I had done to and with Lara, and I knew how much she would like it, if she only would loosen up and let me.
She must have heard me approach, because she turned her head, and flashed me a smile that lit up her face. I sat down next to her, and for a while, we sat there, tossing rocks and crap into the creek and watching it flow downstream, like we used to do when we were kids. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what.
Instead, it was Tess who broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Alex," she said, simply.
"Sorry for what?" I asked, because although I sort of thought I knew, I wanted to hear her say it.
"Sorry for not doing all of the things that I know you want. For basically not doing almost anything that you want, really."
I was silent. I still yearned for her, but I wasn't sure that I could be with her, but not "be" with her. "So, what does that mean?" I asked. I knew that this was hard for her, even if I didn't understand why, and I figured that she needed to say what she wanted so I could figure out what I wanted, if that makes any sense.
"It means that I fucking miss you, and I'm sorry that my neuroses or fears or whatever meant that you are unhappy and that we aren't together. You know that you are my best friend, and maybe my only real friend."
"You know I feel the same way about you," I said, softly.
Tess reached over and covered my hand with hers. It was slightly damp from the ground, but I felt an almost electric shock when she touched me. If this was a story, and not real life, we would kiss, Tess would roll over on her back, and we would make tender, passionate love under the trees, and be happy forever. And I would have loved for that to happen. But, of course, it didn't.
Instead, she said, "Alex, I cannot imagine being apart from you during senior year. I've always assumed that we would be together, go to prom and graduate as a couple. And I still want that. But I also know that things have changed for you this summer. I know that you have been with Lara, and I'm fairly confident that you and she—"
I interrupted. "You don't have to say it. Yes, we had sex, and it was great and all, but you should know that every time we did, all I wanted was for it to be you."
She paused and looked like she was going to cry. I squeezed her hand and waited.
"What I was going to say," she said, softly, "was that I can't promise you that. I can promise you that I will try to be more open, more physical, but I can't guarantee anything. If you can accept that, then please let's get back together. But I understand that might not work for you, especially now after you've had some experience, so if that is the case, then I will understand, and will not get in your way if you want to see other girls."
I wasn't sure what to say to make this right, so I decided to ask what I wanted to know. "What is the problem?" Then it struck me, on TV or in books, when a girl is afraid of sex, she must have been abused, so I asked, "Were you, you know-"
But this was real life, and, answers aren't always so easily found. Tess turned to me, surprised. "No, it isn't that. If it was that, I'd understand. But it isn't that. No one has abused me, raped me, hurt me. I just don't want to, and I don't know why." Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. "I wish I did; I wish for both of us that I was a normal horny teenager, but I'm not, and I hate that it has ruined what we had."
I was quiet, as I thought about my options, and Tess decided to fill the silence.
"I even went to the doctor, the gynecologist, and she did a full checkup. I'm sure that you'll be happy to know that the plumbing is all working right. It isn't a physical thing. She said that I may just have a low libido. It could be hormonal, or psychological or something else, but she suggested that it was premature for me to use medication or anything. That maybe it would come to me naturally, eventually. But maybe not."
So, I thought, I could be in a relationship with the girl I loved, and who loved me, and who was perfect in every way, but one. But was that one thing a deal breaker? I looked at Tess, really looked at her, and I realized that it wasn't. I needed to be with her, and she had promised to try.
I leaned forward and gave her my answer by kissing her on her soft, full lips. She kissed me back, and even pushed her tongue into my mouth. I pulled her tight to me, and could feel her ample, firm breasts pressing into my chest, which caused my cock to immediately stiffen. We kissed for a while, and I ran my hands up and down her back. It seemed like she was enjoying herself, but after a while, and before I could try to touch anything else, she pulled away. There was a bit of a flush on her pale skin, and a look in her eye that was either fear, or lust, or some combination of both. I just couldn't be sure. She stood up and I followed.
Without saying a word, I knew we were together again, and we walked, silently, holding hands, back to our cars, under the beating sun. Before we separated, I pulled her close to me, and we kissed. I put my hands on her perfect ass and pressed her against my crotch, and, for the first time, she didn't resist. But she didn't stay that way for long before disengaging, smiling at me, and getting into her car and driving away. I got into my car and drove home, happy.
When school started, it was as if we had never broken up. We slipped back into our routines of doing homework together, hanging out together, and going out with friends as a couple. We were co-editors of the yearbook, and easily coordinated, because she was more interested in the pictures and the business side, and I was more interested in the text and layout.
I could tell that Tess was trying to be more liberal about the physical part of our relationship. Ultimately, she let me see and fondle her actual breasts, and they were as beautiful and perfect as the parts of her that I had seen. She even let me kiss them occasionally, and seemed to enjoy my attention to her little pale nipples, and I was entranced by the sprinkling of freckles that broke up the uniformity of her alabaster skin. A few weeks after steeling herself and reaching into my pants to touch my cock, she began to somewhat regularly be willing to give me hand jobs, which went a long, long way to relieving my sexual tension. It wasn't perfect, but it was much better than it had been.