“I swear you get better looking with every year…” Her sexual peak, her full figure physique. I dream of my hands disappearing underneath her shirt, eyes closed, feeling the topography of her, letting every curve and bump shape the image of her naked body in my mind’s eye.
But I can only think it, can only imagine what it would feel like to love her deep, on the inside, not just a platonic love, but something physical. Three years I’ve waited, and now I count down the seven months until I can touch her in public and not catch concerned glances from middle-aged women in supermarkets, frowns from officers on the street.
She being just seventeen, while I am nearing thirty.
“Are you going to watch me from behind the whole time, or are you going to sit down?” She pats the space on the tree next to her.
“When will your father be home?” I remember the time we were almost caught, in her room, lying in bed together when I was supposed to be tutoring her in geometry. We were fully clothed, though I had unbuttoned my pants, and let my hands rest on her flat chest long enough to feel the nipples harden through her blouse.
But she was smart enough to lock the door when her father came knocking. It gave me enough time to scurry back to her desk, haphazardly pull the covers over the bed, open the math book across my lap and press it down to conceal my arousal. And she opened the door with that girlish grin as if she could do no wrong.
She was fourteen then.
She played the innocent child role well, but I knew even then what she really was. I suspect her father did too, which is why he never invited me back. She must have passed math another way, and I feel a tinge of jealousy at how that might have been.
She is older now, more daring. She lies back, spreads her legs on either side of the fallen tree branch, says again, “Sit.”
I’m stiff as a board. I’m a servant to her every command. I try to convince myself that I am an honest man, and I want to wait to do this right. But a peek inside the opening of her shorts reveals only skin, the curled edge of the second set of lips I desire to kiss.
I can’t deny myself this sweet pleasure any longer.
Written for #MarquessaChallenge, a Fiction Friday challenge that uses song lyrics as prompts. Today’s prompt is: I swear you get better looking with every year…your sexual peak, your full figure physique…