“Okay, you can look,” he said.
I gasped as I opened my eyes. Somehow he managed to fix up the boathouse attic behind my back. The place we both went to in our fantasies these past seven years. The setting of the scene I had relived over countless sleepless nights and that Bobby used as a way to escape the horrors of war.
Little lights flecked the ceiling. A thin layer of transparent cloth draped across the lights, softening their glow. The ratty couch was covered with a fresh blanket. The furniture was polished and fresh. The walls were peppered with glowing misshapen stars, and I spotted the source: a lampshade in which he had stenciled star shapes.
I was overwhelmed with the gesture, but sadness swept over the joy. Just like the first time here, we'd have to go back to the lives we didn't want. This just reminded me of the fact that I made the wrong choice seven years ago.
“This is beautiful,” I said, as my voice cracked.
“I didn't mean to upset you.”
I turned to face him, unwilling to spoil the moment with my sadness. “Shut up, Bobby.” I grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him down for a kiss.
“Or not,” he mumbled into my mouth. Bobby wrapped his arms around my waist, making me feel small and safe as he spun, seating me on the edge of the table where he first kissed my breasts and slid his fingers into me when I was still a virgin.
So few people get to relive their most precious memories, but even with our terrible luck, we had this privilege. This time I wore overalls over an old t-shirt from Bobby's youth. He slid down each strap, letting it collapse down to my waist, and pulled my shirt off.
On this warm summer night, Bobby was already shirtless and the little warped stars he had carved into the lampshade stamped along the dark shadow of his torso, like a child's rendering of the night sky.
He crouched for his lips to meet my lips. Softly. Barely pressing against them. Then he did the same to each nipple: Soft kisses, gentle tugs with his teeth so that I writhed under the sensation of his mouth on the sensitive points. He littered the valley between my breasts with kisses as he dug a hand into my hair and tugged, arching my neck to allow himself room to roam. As he dotted my neck with traces of his lips, the other hand reached between my legs and softly glided along the damp skin, readying me for his entry.
I purred as two fingers slid into me, while Bobby gently tugged my earlobe with his teeth. He pushed me back against the wall by my neck as his fingers curled and massaged inside of me. My spine arched, offering my pert breasts to satisfy his appetite. His mouth roved over the plump flesh. Kissing it. Sucking the pale skin around my nipples. As if they were rooted in the same source of pleasure, his mouth on my breasts caused everything below to light up in ecstasy. I lifted my hips against his hand, greed and lust overtaking me.
“I'm going to make you ready for me.” Bobby's throaty voice recited the words he had said to me years ago, before he first pushed himself inside of me and took the last of my innocence. Words I thought about many times since that moment that made me wet. Words that made me sneak off and lock the bathroom door to touch myself.
“But first, I want you to do something for me,” he added.
“Anything,” I barely whispered.
He slid off the overalls that still covered my hips and pressed his hot, glistening chest against me as he leaned in to whisper. “Touch yourself. You're so beautiful. I want to watch you play with yourself.”
If there was anyone who made me feel powerful, it was Bobby. But that was something I had done in secret. Something I wasn't even sure other women did. No one spoke about it. And now Bobby was asking me to take this personal secret, relegated to under bedsheets and behind locked bathroom doors, and put on a personal show for him.
“Will you, Lil? Play with yourself for me?” he begged in a husky drone.
I looked down, suddenly overcome with timidness and nodded. “Atta girl.” He suckled on my bottom lip before stepping back into a shadow, where all I could see was his faint outline under a dozen little stars made of light.
I swept all of my loose hair over one shoulder, and sat back on the table, spreading my legs open for Bobby to get a clear view. My breathing grew labored, so that the cadence of each inhale and exhale was all I could hear.
I hesitated, almost paralyzed with the nervous energy that coursed through my extremities.
“Don't be shy, Lil,” his voice coaxed seductively from the shadows.
I bit my inner lip nervously, reaching for a breast with one hand, while I slid the other along and up my thigh to its crease.
“Did you,” he asked, “ever touch yourself when you thought of me?”
I nodded.
“Show me how.”
I swallowed tensely, as I gripped my breast, and used my index finger to gently flick the stiff nipple. My other fingers parted to open me, as I exposed the pink hot flesh to Bobby.
“God dammit, Lil,” he groaned. His tone was languorous, the way it would get when he was inside of me. And so I looked down and noticed the outline of his hand, reaching below, slowly bobbing up and down.
Seeing how the sight of me touching myself had that effect on Bobby, motivated me. Knowing that he was touching himself, made me less shy about the act. No one made me feel as good about my body as Bobby did. I closed my eyes as I rubbed myself, my fingers wet with arousal.
I moaned and still called Bobby's name, even when I touched myself. I was climbing, higher, closer to the climax, but I didn't want to take myself there without him. I opened my eyes.
“Please come back to me,” I pleaded. “I need you in me.”
Bobby stepped forward, the moonlight illuminated him as he held his rock hardness in his hand, a sight I didn't even know was so wildly arousing until he introduced me to it.
“I want to taste you first,” he rasped. Bobby dropped to his knees, using his mouth to taunt the already sensitive region. His tongue flicked along the little bud, providing just enough pressure to hold me over the edge without pushing me off. I played with one breast while the other hand knotted through his hair. My eyes rolled back as I nearly growled from the steady teasing of his wet, steamy mouth.
“Fuck me, Bobby.” The words were a shock to me. I was a lady. I didn't cuss. But with Bobby, in this attic, I was anything but proper. I was a dirty girl who played with herself. Who enjoyed the sight of a man holding his erection and sliding his own hand up and down his length.
I wondered for a moment if I had gone too far. If that mouth of mine would be a turnoff. But Bobby stood up tall, the ridges of his long, lean physique covered in shadows, stars and moonlight, and scooped a hand beneath one of my knees, pulling me to the edge of the table.
“Say it again,” he commanded through gritted teeth.
“Fuck me,” I whimpered.
Bobby pushed his hips forward, his erection primed and harder than I had ever felt, and slid through the creamy entrance. But even though I was ready, I wailed from the welcome intrusion.
He pulled all the way out and slid in me again. Then again. Like a well-oiled piston.
I grunted and growled as he speared me over and over. This time, we weren't hiding. I didn't have to stifle my moans and cry his name into his chest. This time, I freely called out as he hit deep inside of me.
“God, you're always so tight,” he grimaced.
I grabbed Bobby’s muscled behind and pulled him deep inside of me, clenching tightly around his firmness while he ground his hips against me. Every muscle in my own body seemed to contract at once, almost crushing me, until they all relaxed in unison as I cried. A build up and release I can only compare to what the ocean must feel during a tidal wave.