Young Love, Young Lust
by Alex Exley
Copyright © 2011 Alex Exley and Humburger Publishing, Inc.
Smashwords edition.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover photo by Dave Hare. See many more of Dave’s photos at http://femaleform.moonfruit.com
Also available by Alex Exley: Tales of Love & Lust, a collection of stories featuring over 56,000 words of exquisite erotica for only $2.99.
Feel free to contact the author at thehumburger@yahoo.com with any comments or questions. And ratings and reviews are always appreciated.
Young Love, Young Lust
Brian walks out of his Contemporary Lit class and trots down the concrete steps and onto the bustling city sidewalk. He walks briskly at first, wound up from sitting through a ninety-minute class, but the warmth of the sun grabs him and he slows to take it in: springtime in New England, everything coming to life after the long, cold winter. Cars speed by with renewed vigor. People move with greater buoyancy in their step, joy in their expressions. Even the hulking subway cars rumble down the tracks with a hint of sprightliness. And the girls—the girls simply shine.
He sits on a bench along the sidewalk and is quickly reminded why this is his favorite time of year: sweaters, coats and scarves have been replaced with skimpier attire. Glistening legs and sumptuous breasts form a moving panorama of intoxicating flesh. It drives him crazy just thinking about it.
He looks at his cell—astronomy lecture in thirty-five minutes. He won’t be attending. That was the risk of taking a mid-afternoon class spring semester of senior year. Instead he scurries across the busy street and sits at a restaurant’s makeshift patio on the sidewalk. He orders a pint of beer and flirts with the waitress. She graduated last year, she says, and now waitresses while working on her art, though she’s applied to several grad schools. I’m thinking about law school after taking a break for a year, he says. Only a bare bones conversation, but it fills him with satisfaction, with desire.
He finishes the beer and orders another. It feels like drinking a glass of sunshine. He props his feet on a chair and spreads a newspaper on the table, though mostly he just watches the passing people, daydreams about the women.
A girl he knows walks by, notices him, stops to talk. Shannon something—he’s not sure of her last name. He occasionally sees her at parties, and she’s in his astronomy class. They frequently sit near each other in class with a group of people they both know. I don’t think I’ll be making it to class today, he says, holding up the glass of beer. She smiles, says it’s so nice out she wishes she could blow it off, but she’s missed the last two lectures. She checks the time on her cell phone. Still too early for class, so she steps over the chain that separates the tables from pedestrians and sits with him.
They commiserate about their astronomy class, an intro lecture they thought would be a breeze, but requires more effort than anticipated. Shannon wears a short denim skirt and a short-sleeve collared shirt. As they talk Brian glances between her legs, as far up as the light allows. Her fleshy inner thigh beckons him. He imagines gripping the supple muscle with his fingers, caressing it with his lips, as he moves inward. Does she notice his lascivious glances? Maybe she enjoys the attention. If she does notice, she doesn’t say anything, just helps herself to another sip of his beer. Let me buy you one, he offers. She pretends to fight the temptation, then says she can’t, she should really get to class. As she leaves she suggests they study together for the next test. Between the two of them they should do okay, and it’s more fun than studying alone.
His stomach flutters as he watches her walk down the sidewalk and across the street. What he wouldn’t do for a piece of that. Those smooth legs, that taut ass. You don’t see tits that size with such a sweet ass every day. Damn, he says aloud to himself as she walks out of sight.
He considers ordering another beer, but he’s too worked up now and needs release. He chugs the last few gulps and pays the bill. Walking down the street, he takes out his cell and calls Liz: Are you at your apartment? I’m coming over. No, I’m not going to class. Be there in five minutes.
He lets himself into her third-floor walk-up, says hi to Jemma, Liz’s roommate, who’s watching TV, and heads directly to Liz’s room in the rear of the apartment.
She’s studying on her bed, and Brian sits next to her, scoots her into the corner. She chastises him about drinking this early in the day, but he can tell she’s just kidding. He leans in to kiss her, a little too clumsily, forcefully, and she half-heartedly rebuffs him, says she has to study.
He doesn’t pay enough attention to how attractive she is, he thinks, as he examines her features: smoldering brown eyes, narrow face with perfectly smooth skin, short silky hair tucked behind her ears. And her body. You’d never know how fine her body is from how conservatively she dresses. Brian sometimes forgets himself, sees her as too plain, too restrained.
Though he has gotten her to loosen up in the bedroom. He bought Liz her first dildo, an unexpected Valentine’s Day present. She acted embarrassed when he said he wanted to watch her use it, but she overcame her apprehension soon enough. He’s since gotten her to experiment with a few other things—some role-playing, a little spanking. But he isn’t in the mood for anything kinky right now. He wants one thing and he wants it as soon as possible.
He rubs her shoulders, her back, delicately kisses the curve of her neck. Her hair is damp from a shower and the cool strands tickle his cheeks. She warms up to him and returns his kisses. His arms snake beneath hers and he cups her breasts, first on top of her shirt, then underneath, her soft skin warm to his touch. Brian lifts her shirt over her head and she lies back naked from the waist up, her breasts leveling out like soft plateaus above her chest. He removes her pants and panties, kisses up her legs, nibbles her awakening pussy. Despite being so horny, he’s a little buzzed and can’t get completely hard. Maybe it’s the beer. It sometimes happens—he just has to use his imagination.
He imagines that Jemma is there with them, kissing Liz; Liz returns Jemma’s kisses, caresses her olive skin, fondles her voluptuous breasts. Brian inserts two fingers into Liz as he fellates her clit. He pictures Jemma sticking a finger inside along with his, then kissing Jemma as their wet fingers rub together inside Liz’s pussy.
Liz moans, rocks her hips. He’s ready now.
He holds Liz’s leg and spreads it out and up, lifting her ass. A few moderate pushes and he’s all the way inside her, churning away like a well-oiled piston. She feels good, he’s not going to go limp, but still his mind wanders: different situations, other people they know, people they don’t know. It’s not that Liz doesn’t turn him on. He’s just a young, horny guy with a sexual appetite that craves variation.
Then he thinks of Shannon and her bare legs shining in the afternoon sun. It doesn’t take long before he pulls out and comes on Liz’s stomach.
* * *
Liz showers after taking advantage of the warm weather to go for a run. She removes her towel to dry her hair and catches a glimpse of her naked body in the mirror. She doesn’t pay much attention to her reflection. She knows she looks good, but she isn’t vain, doesn’t want to think of herself that way. Perhaps a result of a traditional, conservative upbringing back home in suburban Indianapolis.
The afternoon sun casts a yellow hue across the wall, bathing the framed pictures on her bureau in a warm glow. There’s one of her parents, who taught her to be humble and work hard, which she took to heart. She still talks to them twice a week. It’s comforting to have them, to think of them. Though even now, three and a half years after leaving for college, she sometimes feels the need to break away from her past and her parents’ influence on her. It’s as if she doesn’t entirely know herself yet.
She looks from the picture of her parents to a picture of her and Brian. An extreme close-up—Brian holding the camera an arm’s length away—of big, bright smiles, their cheeks almost touching. He took it at a party a year ago. They’d been dating almost a year then, are going on two now.
She gets dressed and takes a book out of her backpack, tosses it onto the bed. She tries to study but her mind wanders. She walks restlessly to the kitchen to get a drink then back to her room, cleans for five minutes, checks her email and updates her checkbook.
The yellow hue has crept down off the pictures and onto the floor. She picks up the one of her and Brian and looks at it. Two years is a long time. She was surprised when he started calling her. He seemed so much more outgoing than her. She never would have thought they’d last two months, let alone two years. And now she thinks she might love him. She knows she wants to marry and have a family of her own. Though she doesn’t necessarily want to marry right after college, she’d at least like to find the man who wants to share a life with her. She and Brian sometimes talk indirectly about being together in the future—school and career plans after college, where they’d like to live—but haven’t made any firm commitments. He could be the one, but she doesn’t want to let herself fall for him completely if he doesn’t feel the same way about her.
Her phone rings and she puts down the picture to answer it. It’s Brian. Yeah, I’m at my apartment, she says. Just studying, don’t you have class? Okay, see you in a few minutes. She sits on her bed and reads, or at least acts like she was reading.
She can tell Brian’s been drinking when he comes in and sits down next to her. I thought I had a responsible boyfriend and here you are drunk before dinner, she says playfully. He says he’s not drunk and boorishly gropes her, but she pushes him away, says she has to study. She doesn’t really care that he’s been drinking. She’s glad he came by, glad he thinks of her like this—stopping by spontaneously for sex in the middle of the afternoon. But she would like to be touched with a little more finesse than a that of a jackhammer.
He massages her shoulders and kisses her neck. That’s more like it. She wants to please him, too, but she can tell there won’t be much foreplay this time. Though she can’t complain as he nuzzles his face between her legs. Soon he’s inside her, thrusting himself into her with increasing fervor. She rubs his hard chest and arms. There’s nothing quite like this, being linked as one with the man you most care for. A flood of euphoria fills her, and moments later he pulls out and ejaculates on her stomach.
Brian lies beside her and corrals her breast in his hand, pulls at her nipple with his mouth, kisses her on the lips. That felt so good, she says. She puts her hand behind his head and kisses him back even harder. A diminishing haze of euphoria lingers, and in between kisses, her eyes closed, feeling like she’s floating on a cloud, she says, I love you.
The words shock even her and snap her to full consciousness. Brian has a blank, surprised expression. She buries her head under a pillow, laughs abashedly. He starts to tell her she means a lot to him, too, but she cuts him off: No, don’t even say anything. I was caught up in the moment. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I don’t even know. She sighs exasperatedly and buries her head under the pillow again.
* * *
Brian doesn’t know what to say after Liz tells him she loves him. She’s cute the way she acts embarrassed, hiding her head under the pillow, and he’s drawn to the way she makes herself so vulnerable to him. But does he love her? Maybe he could, but he’s not sure he wants to. He starts to tell her how much she means to him, but she cuts him off. They lie silent for a minute. Too silent. He gets up and grabs some tissues to clean his come off her.
He leaves Liz’s apartment thirty minutes later. He still feels awkward about her admission and tries not to think about it. He goes to the computer lab on campus and plays a game of Internet poker, then decides to work out at the gym, to sweat the remaining alcohol out of his system and maybe study afterwards.
The afternoon lay sure hit the spot, and he manages to focus his mind more intently. Until he gets to the gym. Girls in sports bras and athletic shorts strut around the exercise equipment, check themselves out in the wall-size mirrors. He can’t help but stare. It’s not fair—there should be laws against this kind of thing.
He does a couple sets of bench presses and butterflies before hitting the Stairmaster. A girl walks by, their eyes meet, she smiles. Jesus. It drives home the thought that’s been eating away at him for the past few months: He’s at a time in his life when he should experience all that he can, including women. There will never be so many attractive, single women with such carefree and willing attitudes in such proximity again. And he’s spent the last two years with the same girl.