tagNovels and NovellasA Summer in the Flesh Ch. 07

A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 07

byC.C. Rider©

This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order.


He carried me upstairs, again seemingly without effort. The robe I was wearing, his robe, was falling off of me, and I enjoyed the way my bare hip bounced off his stomach as he took each step. My door was open. I was kissing his neck, tasting his salt as he carried me into my room. I was languishing in the playful, silly romanticism of the moment when I was jolted with fear. What if Tom had decided to sleep in my bed, waiting for me? Charlie paused at the bedroom door, and in just the moonlight I could see that my bed was empty. I had to resist breathing an audible sigh of relief.

Of course I was turned the wrong way for him to set me on the bed the way he was going to in our imaginations – me sprawling out like a cat stretching with my head perfectly rested against the pillow. Also, the room was lofted, one bed up and mine below, so he would have had to duck to get to it. He set me down on my feet. I drooped my shoulders and allowed his light robe to slip off of me. We embraced. I slid his shorts down and took him by the hand, pulling him down into my bed. We stretched out next to each other, kissing softly, running our hands carefully over each other's body. We were big people, and we seemed to fill the bed, needing every inch of space for our outstretched limbs.

Charlie leaned back from me and looked towards the ceiling. "This is nice," he said. I cuddled up against him and rubbed his chest.

I almost said, "What about Amy?" Dammit. How did she jump into my mind? Go away. Please go away.

"I think you left your glasses downstairs," I said stupidly instead.

"It's okay." He petted my head. "You know..."

I waited, but he didn't say anything. "What?" I whispered.

"Amy and I aren't really anything. We're just friends."

I laughed.

"No, I know what you're thinking, but... she's different."


"I mean like strange different, not... she's not strange... oh, I don't even know why I brought it up. I guess I just wanted you to know that."

So what about Tom and me? The question was obviously hovering there between us. I had no idea what the answer was to that question. "Let's not make this too complicated. We're here. And like you said, it's nice."

"We're young, and it's a big, strange world, isn't it?" He was serious.

I started to laugh. "Yes, darling, but we will always have tonight."

We laughed and hugged, and he tickled me. He stretched back out, and I continued to rub his chest. We were quiet for quite awhile, and I couldn't help myself. I rubbed his belly, then lower, till my fingers "accidentally" brushed across his penis. It was as if I wanted to make sure it was still there. It was, and it was just as I had remembered it. I petted it. Then I remembered it in my mouth.

Had Tom actually ass-fucked me just a few hours ago? Me?! Little Maddy. It seemed like a dream (except that my butt still ached – that bastard!).

Charlie's penis grew in my hand like magic. He leaned up on an elbow and kissed me from above. I settled back. He pressed his cheek to mine and nuzzled my ear lobe with his lips. The room was dark, with only the faintest blue glow of moonlight. The closeness of the loft ceiling made it feel like we were in a dark, warm cocoon. The fan was on low, and its hum and the rhythm of Charlie's breath were the only sounds I could hear.

I let go of his penis, and the air felt cold against the heat of the palm of my hand. He reached over me and shifted his weight on to his arms, and his body seemed to hover above me, less than an inch from my flesh. I wrapped my arms around his chest and rubbed my hands against his back. We kissed more passionately than before, and when he tried to pull his lips away from mine I lifted my head, letting him know not to stop. I pulled him down on top of me. His skin fell against mine. His penis was hot and massive and very obvious between us, pressing into my hip. He pushed his knee against my knee, and I parted my legs.

"I want to feel you inside of me, Charlie." I did. I wanted us to melt together in our cocoon, to be reduced to a single, pulsing vibration of sensuous flesh.

He rolled on to me, and I spread my legs wide. He started to pull away from me, as if to sit up on his knees and adjust our various appendages in some way to ease his entry into me. I pulled him back down on top of me. His penis seemed pinned against my pubic mound, but I didn't want him to sit up. I arched my back and squeezed his hips between my thighs and pulled down on his body with my arms and legs, like he was a tree and I was shimmying my way up his trunk.

"Like this," I whispered, and he moved down until the soft tip of his penis was pointing into my warmth. I wriggled my hips and lifted my thighs until I felt the position was just right, and then I hugged him tightly in my arms, wrapped my legs around his waist, and pressing my lips against his ear I breathed out a sibilant "Slowly." He pushed into me ever so slightly, and I wriggled again to allow my moistness to open for him. We stayed like this for some time: mouthy, wet kissing, his tip nestled at the brink of its journey. He was teasing me for saying slowly, I know. I could feel tiny little twitches of movement, and I couldn't tell if these movements were involuntary, or by design. He seemed to gain confidence in his ability to manipulate his member, and with a small twist of his hips he was able to slide the head of his penis up and down, but not into, the opening of my vagina. My moistness increased. My body was hot underneath him, and as he dawdled about I became restless. All right, already, I wanted to say jokingly. I wanted to begin to feel his progress, and I pushed down gingerly with my hips, until it felt like I had his tip in the grasp of my juicy flesh. He pushed in to me gingerly, then I felt him side into me with agonizing patience, more slowly than I could have ever imagined.

"Like this?" Then he rocked back and forth ever so slightly. "Or like this?"

I had had enough of his toying. With my legs wrapped around him, I planted my heels into his butt cheeks and squeezed him into me. When I felt full of him, I relaxed, but he continued his trek, and filled me more. He pressed on, until I felt his mound push into mine, and then he strained and it felt as if he was consciously growing his penis inside of me. My whole body tingled with heat and the sensation of closeness and fullness.

"Oooh.," I gasped.

I pulled him down into me with my arms and my legs, squeezing with all my might. I wanted to feel the full brunt of his weight falling into me, and he came off his elbows and obliged me. He thrust his arms behind my back. As I squeezed him, he squeezed me, and his hands felt strong and large against my back.

We held on to each other so firmly that our bodies seemed to share a hum of energy. My eyes were shut so tight that all I could see was a red, glowing, illuminated heat. I hung on to the feeling until I couldn't hang on anymore, and I sighed in exasperation as my muscles gave way to exhaustion.

He rocked slowly, almost imperceptibly at first. I concentrated on relaxing every muscle in my body as he rocked on top of me. My arms still clung to his chest, my legs still wrapped his waist, but I was limp and I flowed with the rocking. Our skin stayed pressed together like it was fused from the heat and would sting if we tried to separate. We seemed joined at the loins, and the only friction I felt was deep inside me, rocking in and out. And slowly the intensity mounted.

I started to squeeze him again, but only as he rocked into me. With each passing thrust, there was a building of energy, and with each withdrawal, more of him seemed to leave me. Finally our loins were separated, and he started to use his hips. The rocking gave way to a gentle bumping, and with each little bump, the moistness between us seemed to grow. I was pushing down on his butt with the heels of my feet, and I started to drive the rhythm.

Then he took over. He pushed all the way into me and began to buck. I went limp again. It took all my energy just to keep my arms and legs wrapped around him. He was literally lifting me off the bed with the force of his thrusting. Yes, this was what I liked. Chest-to-chest, mound-to-mound, strong, eager thrusting, but it never felt like this before. He was marvelously, deliciously deep inside of me, and I could feel the tingling friction of every cell of my vagina. His thickness and length resonated with a powerful energy that I seemed to have miraculously trapped and stored inside of me.

I realized at that moment that I had never experienced a full-fledged orgasm during straight sex before. It seems funny to me now because it was, and still is my favorite type of sex. And I had orgasmed during masturbation while fantasizing about straight sex. But that night, this observation came to me just as a strange, new feeling began to well up inside of me. My vaginal walls were quivering. I felt a rush of energy, and held on to Charlie and squeezed him as tightly as I could without slowing his thrusting, feeling that if I were to let go of him I would lose the sensation. I wanted to say his name.

"That's it, Charlie. Yes, Charlie. Oh, Charlie."

And then I realized that what I really wanted was to love Charlie. I didn't want to be his fuck-friend, and we were not playing a game. This was too real. And I was suddenly scared.

"Come on, Charlie."

I wasn't begging for sex when I panted out his name. I didn't want him to go faster or harder. I didn't want him to ejaculate inside me. What I wanted, what I desperately needed at that precise moment was NOT to be alone. I wanted his entire being to enter mine. I wanted us to experience the intolerable ecstasy of being right here, right now, together. I could only say, "Come on, Charlie." What I meant was, "Come with me, Charlie. Come to this place we have created together, right here in the center of the universe. Feel the beating heart of life itself."

I wanted to love Charlie. I had to pretend that I did. I didn't know this man (this shy, curious little boy). Yet, I had somehow allowed him to peek into the window of my soul. Come on in, Charlie. You might as well.

"That's it, Charlie."

I pretended that I was in love with him, and there he was with me, the entire universe spinning around us with an incomprehensible fury. I pretended that I told him I loved him. I pretended that he whispered "I love you, Annie" in my ear. I pretended with all my might, and I shook ferociously.

"That's it, Charlie." I had to say something. It was all I could think to say. And then we were one.

"Oh God, Annie," was all he could reply as he ejaculated inside of me.

He slowed, and then he was still, and then I started to cry.

I didn't want to cry. Tears just streamed from eyes.

My mind raced.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Charlie. I'm fine." Quick, make him think it's because the sex was so great. "That was fantastic." Was I convincing?

"Are you okay?" Apparently not.

"I'm fine, really." I laughed through my tears in embarrassment. "I'm so embarrassed."

Dammit, Annie, get a hold of yourself. I took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and I got a hold of myself. "It's okay. I'm just a little overwhelmed."

Charlie climbed off of me so carefully I thought he might be concerned that he was dealing with some kind of mental patient. He took a Kleenex box off my nightstand and set it on my belly.

"Here. Please don't be embarrassed. I'm more than a bit overwhelmed myself."

"Like you said, it's a big, strange world." I wiped my eyes.

Charlie was very gentle and kind. He kissed my cheek and ran his fingers through my hair soothingly.

"Dou you still want me to stay?"

"Do you still want to stay?" Please say yes, I thought. I didn't want to be alone.


We took turns going to the bathroom. While I was in the bathroom, I lokked in the mirror. My eyes were puffy. I cried again, just for a minute or two.

I fell asleep on my side with him behind me, holding me, spooning.

The room was brilliant with sun when I first awoke. My alarm clock said 8:30. Charlie was beside me. I huddled against him and fell back to sleep. When I awoke the second time, Charlie was gone. It was almost 11:00. I pulled on some shorts and a tank top and went to the bathroom, and when I came back, Charlie was standing by my door with a mug of coffee in each hand.

"I heard you get up."

We sat on the floor of the living area of my suite. We didn't say a word about my asinine tears the night before. During the night, I had promised myself I was going to enjoy my last week in school and relax. I was still uncertain about what had happened, but I was committed not to let it bother me. We talked about little things until the conversation took an unexpected turn.

We were talking about what a crazy summer it was turning out to be at the house, and I think he was trying to apologize for his apparent promiscuity, or maybe he was trying to make me feel better about my recent emotional display, or maybe he was trying to bond with me, but what he said was: "I'm not really into having sex with all kinds of different people all the time, you know, like Tom and Amy are."

I must have registered a look of utter befuddlement, because he gave me one of those looks that says, "Are you okay?" I was having difficulty comprehending his statement.

"Tom is having sex with all kinds of different people?" I didn't want to say that, but I couldn't help myself.

"You mean other than you and Amy?"

Other than me and Amy?

"Amy?" Dammit. I had to shut my mouth. It was becoming clear to me that my perception of the world was askew. Things were not what they seemed.

"You mean you didn't... oh shit, Annie, I thought.... Wow, am I stupid. I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's all right. I mean, I didn't know, but it doesn't really matter." Yes it did matter. I had immediately come to the conclusion that it DIDN'T matter that Amy was fucking Tom. What mattered was that I didn't know about. I felt like an idiot. It was all becoming clear to me. Amy was a slut.

"Amy, well, she's just that way. Mike's been with her, too. And she's got a boyfriend, too." And I was feeling sorry for Charlie; he knew what he was in for. Charlie seemed genuinely upset with himself for letting the cat out of the bag. He also seemed genuinely honest when he said he thought I had known all along. Still I wondered.

I changed the subject. We talked awkwardly for a few minutes, and then he left. I had been thinking about going home for Saturday night, and now I needed some time to sort out my feelings. I packed quickly, and left. I saw Tom on the way out. I didn't know whether to be mad at him or hug him and say I was sorry for being petty. It felt strange. He smiled, and even did something that made me laugh, but I was uncomfortable.

On the two-hour drive home I decided to forget it. I ran through the whole summer, and it should have been obvious to me (I guess). No one did anything to overtly mislead me, and maybe it really was none of my business. I was over the sex/jealousy crap. What really hurt, though, was that I felt like I had been left out. There was a dirty little secret in the house, and everyone knew about it but me. I promised myself I wouldn't let it bother me. It was good to get away for a while.

I didn't get back to the blues house until late Sunday night, and I didn't see anyone on the way to my room. It was quiet in Amy's room (they were probably all off fucking somewhere else – okay, I'll stop). My only plan for Monday was to go to the library for three or four hours, so I slept in on Monday morning. I was having a cup of coffee, reading the paper in the kitchen the when Amy came in.

"Hi." Amy seemed bright, but gauging.

"Hey." I hardly looked up. I was uncomfortable

"Hey, can we talk for a second?"

No, go away. "Sure." I tried to seem stoic.

"Charlie kind of told me about, well... I don't know what to say except I'm sorry if I... look, Annie, I like you a lot. I guess I'm just a crazed, dick-loving fuck-slut." She said this trying to engage me in eye contact, raising her eyebrows as if to encourage me to laugh. I did.

"Amy, there's nothing to talk about." I was still uncomfortable.

"Oh no, there is. I know what you're thinking. It's not the sex; it's the deception. But it wasn't really deception. Tom is a great guy. It just never came up. I guess I thought, you know, you wanted to think of you and Tom as a couple or something. Whatever you're into, you know. I didn't want to blow that for you, but damn...."

Whatever she was trying to say (and I think I knew more than I let on), she was being honest.

"I guess I just want to... I hope that we can still be friends."

"We are friends." I was being honest. It was okay. How could I not be friends with her – we were fucking the same guys. As it stood, I thought I might be falling for the guy I had originally thought was hers, so why wouldn't it be okay if she had been fucking the guy I originally thought was mine. She came over to where I was sitting and bent down to hug me. I patted her back. She kissed my cheek. Then she sat down in the chair right next to me and put her hand on my knee.

"Great. Now that we've cleared that up, it is time for some girl-talk!"

She was beaming. She was a strange bird.

"Charlie's usually like the big blabber-mouth, but he's all mum about what happened Friday night. But I can tell that whatever happened, it was awesome. Are those guys great, or what?"

I had no idea how to respond. She was staring hard into my eyes, encouraging me. I couldn't help myself. I smiled.

"I knew it!" She slapped my knee. "You see, you're not so innocent after all."

She was right, after Friday night, I had no business being self-serious or feeling put out by anyone. I did feel over it, whatever it was.

"See, you come off as the shy, book-smart, conservative type, but I thought there was a wild streak in you. I could never get Tom to talk about you, not even the slightest hint at a detail. But Charlie, he was like the Cheshire Cat with his shit-eating grin. C'mon girl, tell me all about it." Amy was absolutely giddy, and it was infectious (yes, this was as strange as it seems).

"No." I was giggling like a schoolgirl at a slumber party talking about her first kiss. What was I going to say: "Well, then he shoved it in my ass while I was sucking Charlie's cock"? I think not.

"Tom has never talked to you about me?" I had no idea how silly that question would sound until I actually asked it.

"No, never. Annie, you've got to know Tom's type. He's an absolute gentleman. He never kisses and tells, and he's so smooth. He's easy to fall in love with, but just when you do, you find out the truth. Just like all absolute gentlemen, while he's making you feel like the earth revolves around you, he's out fucking anything in a skirt that crosses his path."

Her laughter came easy, and her observation seemed so dead on that I laughed with her. I was truly enjoying myself.

"Those types are all the same. It comes easy to them. Enjoy the sex, sweetheart, but for God's sake, don't fall for one." She paused, and then added emphatically, "And whatever you do, don't marry one. The cheating bastard was born to break some sweet little girl's heart."

"The sex is great." Did I say that?

"There you go. That's more information than Tom has ever shared with me. But then, I knew that." She paused. You bitch, I thought. "Tell me the truth, now. He's kind of got a special proclivity, if you know what I mean."

She interpreted the look on my face correctly.

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