Here It Is

Here It Is

Here It Is – Deadeye Dick

Here it is:
I fell in love with Amber Velpp on a humid May afternoon. I fell in love, and I never bothered to pick myself up.
Did you catch that? Do you understand?

Here it is:
Amber finished her question, stuck a pencil into the corner of her mouth. She flicked a strand of dirty blond from her eye.
“I…I, uh…” I was watching my lap. My hands were stuck between my thighs. “I think I am. Yeah.”
“You're sure? I don't want to, you know, push you into anything. Am I pushing?”
So you're ready?”
“Na-Yeah, I'm ready.”
“Alrighty then.” She smiled. The eraser behind her tongue was chipped and deformed. “C'mon.”

“Amber, where the hell are we going?”
“Just shut up and c'mon!”
I offered her my hand, and she led me to a tall wooden door. Coach Weirk's Sports Illustrated poster hung directly above the knob; Mindy June, dressed in a rubber violet bathing suit.
Amber nudged the door with her sneaker.
“Amber, what the fuc-”
“Shut up! Just stay behind me, alright?”

Then we were walking through darkness so thick you could almost feel it. We passed a row of green lockers, the shower corner, the bathroom corner.
“Shut up,” Amber repeated in a whisper. She tightened her grip on my hand. “Don't say anything.”
Another row of lockers, a storage closet, a cracked powder blue sink.
When Amber finally stopped, my face collided with the back of her neck. Her skin stank of chocolate and baby powder and Love Spell. For a brief moment, the mixture overrode the smell of damp concrete, of stale piss and shit. I was surrounded by her scent.
But then she released my hand.
“Shut up.”
She grabbed my shoulders.

Then I was sitting on a white bench. Amber was somewhere in the dark. I couldn't see her – I couldn't even smell her – but she was close.
My heart was throbbing. My Pink Floyd shirt was damp with sweat. I hadn't realized I was sweating until I ran a finger across my chin.
Still no Amber. I wanted to call out for her, but I also wanted to obey her. I was in love with her, I'll remind you. I fell hard.
Three minutes passed. Still no Amber.
“Shhh,” she whispered behind my ear. “Shhhh, c'mon.”
Her hand crept up my spine, stroked my shoulder blade. I shivered.
“Shh,” she repeated. “Sshhh.”
Her hand slipped into my over-sized sleeve. Her skin was cold, but that didn't matter. Her thumb hit my erect nipple, and I gasped.
“It's alright, it's fine, c'mon now. Sshhhh.”
I closed my eyes. I escaped the thick darkness and slipped into my own darkness. My own darkness wasn't as thick.
Oh, God, oh, Gosh. Then she cupped my breast, squeezed, twisted. I was holding on to her forearm with my eyes closed. I'm pretty sure my knuckles were white.
Another hand slipped under my shirt, cupped my other breast. I let my head fall backwards onto Amber's collarbone.
“So-sor-,” I tried.
Her left hand worked its way down to my belly button. After a brief stomach squeeze, it slipped under the waistband of my panties.
I gasped again. I couldn't help it.
“C'mon,” I begged. “Plea-please.”
“Sshhhh,” Amber repeated.
So I waited.
She kissed the top of my head.
“I'm ready!” I almost shouted this. “C'mon!”
“Okay, alright.”

Here it is:
Amber touched my clit, toyed with the idea of forcing her finger into my hole.
“Okay, alright.”
Oh, my.
My nails bit her forearm. I arched my back. My bangs fell over my closed eyes, and nothing else mattered.
“Oh, take it easy. Holy shit.”
“I-I'm gonn-..”
“Shhhh. God.”
In, out, out, in.
Something began to build inside me, below my waist. I knew what it was. I didn't want it to escape.
It was mine, but I was willing to share.
“You alright?”
I nodded against her collarbone.
She stretched out her fingers until her pinky covered my asshole.
“D-do it,” I said.
“You sure?”
And she obeyed.
In, out, out, in. In, out, out, in. A warm fluid ran down my inner thigh, then its smell hit my nostrils; musty and familiar.
“Ah, AH!”
“I'm go-gonna…AH!”
Yes. Oh, yes. I was on the verge of exploding. I'd scream, I'd drench Amber's hand and forearm and shirt. I'd convulse, I'd-
In, out.
“Shhh, God. Shhh, Jesus.”
I screamed bloody murder, and the sound echoed against the tiles, the cracked powder blue sink. Amber pulled her hand up to her face. It was dripping with warm cum, fucking dripping.
And I did convulse, I did open my eyes. I did kiss Amber, held on until my chin was wet.
“Oh, my god,” I breathed. I looked down at my panties. The crotch was soaked through, I could see the outline of my camel toe.
“You're welcome,” Amber said, and smiled.
I kissed her again, a short peck of gratitude. I wanted to thank her with words, but I couldn't speak. I literally could not speak.

Here it is:
I heard the locker room's front door open. But I couldn't speak.

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