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Feels Like - 16. Untitled

Freedom as experienced by college freshmen

It was the first Friday after Spring Break. I played the sick card. Riva was throwing a party and I couldn’t bring myself to go especially on a Friday night. Instead, I stayed in Tegan’s room while she went. I said I wasn’t feeling well and insisted that she go in my stead. She begged me to go, I couldn’t. Spring Break was still too fresh in my head.

I lay there in her bed for hours, trying to convince myself that I should just go to sleep. I couldn’t. For as much as I wished I could, I was wide-awake. I smoked a joint. I tried TV. I read a book. I smoked another joint. No sleep. I resorted to music. I must have dozed off with her headphones in my ears. The last thing I remembered was listening to “Sultan’s of Swing.” Sleep, finally.

#

Tegan shook me. I awoke to the most precious smile and “Love is Blindness” by U2. Achtung Baby: best U2 album ever. I can’t play a lick of it on guitar, never tried. I just love to listen to the album from start to finish. The last track was playing. I wanted to start it over. I set it back one track to “Acrobat,” her favorite song on the album.

I owe two things to Michael. Smoking dope, and shifting my musical gaze to his collection of CDs, gems from the early ‘90’s Achtung Baby, Dinosaur Jr’s Green Mind, Nirvana’s Nevermind, STP’s Core, Soundgarden’s Louder Than Love. That’s it. That was all the CD’s that Michael owned.

He said he found them in a box in his brother’s room years after he had moved out. It was like a time capsule from 1993. Michael didn’t have a CD player at their trailer. We listened to them on my dad’s stereo. So Michael brought them over one at a time. He cherished them and always took them home with him.

I guess that’s why we spent so much time together. I couldn’t listen to music unless he came over. I put this album on Tegan’s player.

I could only smile back at her. “Hey Teegs,” I said.

“Hey sleepyhead,” she said leaning on my thigh. She stood up and began undressing. The clock read 1:45. I must have slept for two hours. She moved slowly and deliberately, never taking her eye off me. I could tell just from the look in her eye that she felt like she was dancing, but her body didn’t move much. She is wasted, I detected a slight sway in her. She unbuttoned her jeans first. Each button fell in time with whatever beat was running through her head. Then she pulled her double layers of camisoles in one motion.

I got up to dance with her. She took my hands and began swaying back and forth. I put one earbud in her ear so we could match rhythms.

“How did you know I was dancing?” she asked. Her head swayed with the tempo and her hands found my shoulders. Eyes closed, hair falling in her face between us.

“You’re always dancing in your head after you get enough wine in you, you always do,” I said.

She took the player and in a few taps: “French Disko” by Stereolab jammed into my ear. She matched the tempo with her knees and her hips followed. Her hands ran the length of my backside several times removing my shirt with one of her long strokes.

I was in her trance. My mind blanked as I relaxed. It was like her intoxicated gyrations had sucked away all tension and irritation. Tegan offered a certain comfort zone. She feels like family.

That freaked me out. Family?

I thought of Aimee. Why Aimee?

It hit me: Rachel. I pulled away from Tegan’s dance, handed her the earbud, and fell back to my position on the bed. I had to think. It made sense. Every time I slept since we left Navarre, I’ve had dreams about a girl and I wasn’t sure who it was until now. Nightmares actually. A female sexual predator always chases me. The dreams are whack-o, freaky, and uncomfortable.

It’s Rachel, she’s the raging slut in my dream. My thoughts criss-cross this topic and I become oblivious to Tegan. She had quit her dance, removed my shorts, and was jerking and sucking my lifeline. That was when doubt crept into my consciousness.

If it’s not Rachel, I’m fucked. What if the monster of my dream is Tegan? Or Aimee? The monster was a dark angel, a disguised evildoer. It can’t be any of them, I was convinced.

“The girls are alright,” I said out loud. Tegan pulled her throat off of my dick.

“What?” she asked with her tongue still licking my stiffy. I opened my eyes and she was looking right at me.

“The dream, it makes sense,” I said.

“Who is she?” she asked.

“It might be Rachel, but I just realized that who it is, isn’t important.”

She looked up at me, and laid on the bed next to me. “Tell me about it tomorrow,” as she kissing my neck, she shoved my hand into her panties, and stroked my hard on. She started moving again. I pulled an ear bud from her and plugged myself in. Stereo Lab “Infinity Girl” always puts me in such a nice cradle of comfort of course she’s dancing.

Her moist folds are hot to my cold hands. She shudders as my fingers probe her sun. She gasps and runs her open lips up my neck, breathing hot sex into my mouth.

She lays my shoulder back to the bed as she throws her leg over me. I lurch forward to guide her panties to the side as she stabs her sun.

She lays her head on my chest, arching her abs each time she pulls forward, flattening out on each return.

I probe the music player and dial in “My Chauffeur” by Duran Duran. She responds by sitting up and drawing little circles on my chest with her pinky finger. She licks her lips and leans in. We kiss as my hands navigate her hair sprayed tangles. She slips her arms around me and straightens her legs, cue to roll over.

Her arms hold me close and her ankles lock against my back. Her patented g-spot maneuver. I know it’s only a matter of seconds. I let her have her way, I sink my weight into her and tickle her earlobe with my tongue and suckle her nape.

Her finger nails clutch my shoulders as her thrusting pelvis eases still as my motion take over her pleasure zone. Her legs quiver weak, but her nails dig deeper into my skin.

I settle up onto my arms, holding her head still so I can kiss her exhales of ecstasy. She is putty, shivering and shuttering, her eyes closed so peacefully.

This is one of those memories to hold onto forever, even if she doesn’t remember in the morning.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © copyright 2009 decoastal productions

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