Thread: When Nobody's Watching [Dane Stalling & dearestdarling]

September 28th, 1967 For a moment I thought That girl, the one that you Was that I'm sorry, of course it couldn't be. He said a name, yes, but not mine. I can't decide whether I believe that he was really fooled by my switching trick, or he was game and wanted to play along. He called me Joyce, breathed it there between my breasts. It had a strange effect on me-- some small part wished that he had recognized me and said my name, but I know that it would've ruined everything. When I was Joyce, I was liberated. No sense of propriety tied me down-- I was free, not just free but practically obligated to behave like... like I did. I cradled his head in my hands as he kissed and kissed, burning me. I can't believe that Joyce is content with only weekly visits, if it were me, I don't think that I could let him go He was laughing under his breath, and at first I thought he might be poking fun at me, but it was breathless and almost... nervous. His hands were trembling as he held my ribs. Why should he be nervous? He frequents the bedroom window much more often than the front door, and Father wasn't likely to catch him, but there was a giddiness to his laughter, as though this was the very first midnight visit. Then he It was wrong, I should have le He kis He kissed my nipple, and I felt his tongue slide against me, too hot, too wet to bear. Even without my glasses, I could feel him looking up at me, searching me.... and I breathed his name, praying that he wouldn't recognize my voice and do what I should've done. He liked when I said his name, I could tell. I could feel him grinning against my skin, and chills spilled down my back, ice water in July. I said it again, but it came out like a question. He drew away and I felt him fussing with his clothes, heard a zipper pull. I sat up in bed, missing his mouth, and he took my hand in his. We were both shaking. Jim Morrison's voice rumbled low and we breathed together, hands clasped. It sounds funny maybe but... that was the most intimate touch we shared that night. Palms pressed together, fingers laced. He's not mine, I'm not even sure that I would want him to be... but the moment was. It wasn't Joyce's, some kind of unorthodox hand-me-down, it was mine. He took my hand and brought it to something so hot, I jerked my hand away. Foolishly I realized thanks to your descripti you called it a coc It was nothing like you said. There was nothing simple about it. It felt like a riddle in my hand, soft yet unyielding. Without my glasses, I could only feel, fumbling my way around it, but Johnny didn't seem to mind so long as I kept my hand on him and didn't stray. He brought me into his lap and my heart was racing, too much skin, too much incredible contact. He brought my hand there again, and I remembered, vividly, what you had said, how you touch... I should thank you, or maybe Johnny should. But how could I introduce the two of you? You exist in different worlds. He kissed my hairline, the shell of my ear, my throat. It's good, I heard him say, his voice still strange and rough, don't be shy. Please. But... would Johnny say that to Joyce? I'm just realizing that maybe... but he didn't say. Didn't suggest that I was anyone other than who I was pretending to be. I grasped him fully, and the way he filled my fist was so strangely satisfying. He guided me until I found my way, just as you said, growing more adventurous by the minute. I felt his breath on my shoulder, clueing me into what he liked-- the lightest touches just at the tip, teasing, before cupping my hand around it and easing up and down as the record reached its end. We never flipped it. It was incredible... I could feel his thighs twitching beneath me, tensing, eager for my clumsy attentions. Even for my inexperience, I felt powerful. I was his whole world that night-- me , bargain bin Jane Eyre, too plain for words. I couldn't see, but I felt every tender ridge, every straining inch. I never thought it would be so smooth, soft as my silk scarf. I played until he took hold of my hand, and at first I thought maybe I had done something wrong, but he quickened my leisurely pace until he started to until he He sneezed. The rest is My mother's footsteps in the hall cut short any other plans that Johnny might've had. He was out of my arms, zippered and slipping out of the window. Onto the business of 'anything'. Are you sure? I have something in mind, but it might be a price steeper than you're willing to pay. There's a Halloween party in the high school gymnasium-- I wouldn't usu . Anything, R? I won't think less of you if you have second thoughts. G