Spanky Bullwhips

I sighed, lulled by the steady rhythm of his breath. His smell was unique, intoxicating. I fought it out of my mind.

"I suppose so," I replied, "But you know what?"

"Whaa?" he asked, looking up at me.

"I'm still your friend – and I just can't stand by and do nothing while you get picked on. It pisses me off."

"Mmm" he said. His head settled into my breasts and I leaned back against the headboard, holding him.

"Fends," he mumbled. "How adout at joint?"

"Good idea," I said, reaching across the bed for a lighter. My thigh slid across his ribs. The friction made it difficult to forget how we were dressed – or rather, undressed. His naked hip against my inner thigh was hard to ignore. His smell consumed me. I rested my back against the headboard, fumbled with the lighter, shaking. My knuckles still throbbed. I noticed a few missing chunks of skin and so did Percy. I lit the joint and he took my hand, kissed it - his lips, soft and warm, almost did make it feel better.

Poor hand.

I started – passed the joint, almost dropped it. The music downstairs throbbed through the floor, muffled and pulsing. I shifted my hips against him, let the smoke out and closed my eyes.

"It'll be fine," I managed to whisper. He stubbed out the joint out and tilted his head back; his hair made a nest against my chin. A sigh followed by a comforting silence. I fancied I could feel our hearts beating, together, in time with the music.

"I'm sorry about everything," I said, "I've missed you so much."

I know. Me too.

I wrapped my arms around him, felt the power of his body, solid and strong – and his scent – I just couldn't get it out of my mind. I began to knead his shoulders, felt the thick cords of muscle beneath the smooth skin, felt my inner thighs against him, caressing, warm to the touch. My heart beat faster, pounding in my temples until it drowned the music from the party below. His hand came to rest against my thigh; his touch lit up my body like an electric charge, tingles everywhere.

I love you, Cathy…

"I love you too, Percy."

Friends?

"Friends."

For one last moment I thought hard about what we were about to do – and then I stopped thinking. I pulled on one massive shoulder and pushed the other until he was facing me. He reached for the lamp and clicked it off.

That's better.

"It doesn't matter," I said, barely able to force a sound. "It doesn't really matter at all…"

I wrapped my bare legs around his and fell into the kiss; it was as if our souls were wrapped together, soaring, racing, dancing on the wind. I felt his hair against my eyelids, reached down below his hips and drew him close, felt his cheeks tense and relax as we thrust against each other; the wetness between my legs became as a river crashing through the rapids: unstoppable, washing away everything in it's path. I heard myself making sounds: little cries and moans; my back arched off the wrinkled bedspread as if to drill my nipples into his chest. I could hear his panting in the dark: ragged gasps, short and erratic.

Are you sure we should be doing this?

"Yes!" I cried out. At that moment I wanted nothing more. "Oh god Percy, just make love to me."

We became frantic – like maniacs racing to the finish line. He tugged my top up and over my head. I struggled with his belt buckle, ripped his zipper down. He wiggled out of his shorts and I shoved them down with my feet and he kicked them into the corner as I tore at his boxers.

The moonlight in his hair cast smoothing shadows across his face. He was beautiful. I took him in my hand and began to pump him, back and forth – soft skin sliding over the thick, pulsating shaft and enveloping the tight swollen head. He thrust into my hand as if he were inside me already, his body wracked and shuddering. He took one of my nipples into his mouth, tugged with his lips. His tongue swirled, teeth teasing, nibbling - bright stabs of agonizing ecstasy seemed to well up from the pit of my stomach and run out the bottoms of my feet and shoot out the ends of my curling toes.

Can I take your panties off?

"Do it, oh god, just do it…"

His heavy hands caressed me like feathers: brushing my belly, running over my hips, parting my thighs as if in slow motion. I wanted to scream, to shout, to make him go faster and faster – but he kept his pace – maddening. I could feel my panties slide down my legs, could feel the cool air of the room wash over my sex. His hot breath ripped over me; his tongue flicked between my inner lips and I exploded, screaming.

I struggled, gasping for air – but still I wanted more. I crushed myself against him, tasted myself on his lips; his wonderful scent filled the world. I reached down to guide him in.

I sucked my breath in as he entered me, could feel our flesh throbbing as one as I stretched to accommodate him. I cried out and lay still, afraid to move, panting in rapid gasps.

Are you okay Cathy?

"Yes Percy, yes, but slowly…"

He waited - waited for my breathing to even out as we stared into each other's eyes, motionless. By small degrees I became accustomed to him; my hips began to rock, up and back, engulfing more and more of him until there was no more left to take. Only then did he begin to move again: little circles and small jabs, each tentative movement taking me higher; like a roller coaster inching it's way to the top of the first hill – I was desperate for the plunge.

"Fuck me Percy, oh god yes, just like that…"

Long slow strokes – lazy, rolling. Slow motion lightening and electric fire.

I don't want this to end…

Hot wind and raging ocean; flying, raptured, so ready for release.

"I don't want it to – to end either."

But it did. He screamed; his body tightened like steel bridge cables ready to snap, the floodgates opened – the storm released, like magma erupting from the center of the earth, carrying me with it on white hot waves of explosive, destructive force. It seemed like the world stopped and shattered – all of the pieces careened into space and every part of me flew with them, out of control, spinning into the void.

Winter: lying in each other's arms. The storm was over. Somehow we seemed the lone survivors. The throbbing music below waned to a low pulse as we lay: dripping, caressing, regaining what was.

Cathy?

"Mmm"

Still friends?

What happened then? What? Why did I see my father hunched over me, his eyes red, drunken, angry – telling me what a Little Slut I am?

"I don't know Percy, we're not…"

"Nah Frens?" he cut me off.

He said I said – and I'll never forget the look on his face when he said it. Never.

"No." I backpedaled. "Not JUST friends…" I fucked up. I fucked up big time. It's funny how fate can waste the world with a single word.

"Nah Frens."

"Percy…"

He thrust himself off the bed and began to look for his clothes, yanked his boxers on. I fell back into the pillow, my forearm covering my eyes. Suddenly I felt very, very naked. He dressed, threw the door open and left without a backward glance. I wanted to go after him, but decided to let him chill. I pictured myself going to his house the next day and making everything okay again.

All anyone could talk about for the rest of that summer was how Spanky Bullwhips jumped from a thruway overpass. Jokes about how he was better off anyway flowered - then died away into speculation, sidelong glances, and a sinking feeling that is now a permanent part of who I am.

The parties continued to come and go as if nothing ever happened. The same people, the same places, the same music, the same quicksand. I went to the parties, but I stopped listening to the rumors – no one was really interested in my side of the story anyway.

Copyright ©2002 Veragem, all rights reserved. Not to be reprinted or re-posted in whole or in part without the consent of the author.