Messy Adolescent

But now our hands were more and more involved. We stood together at the very edge of that new world, each of us waiting to cross its boundary. I buried my face in his neck as his hands continued to caress my sides, my back, until one hand began to trace the edges of my bra’s back, occasionally slipping beneath it. Several kisses on each bra cup followed, light, fleeting, traversing my mounds, before he leaned more and took first one nipple and then the other between his lips. He returned, stood as I had, confused for a few seconds, and then his expression cleared immediately with that “Aha” moment. What had I started? God knows my cohort had been lectured enough on the subject in sex ed class and, for most of us, by parents. But our tongues had now been brought into the kisses, like reserves called to the front. “Ready?” he asked, almost shyly. Once in and buckled in he began driving us home. The morning progressed as most late spring and early summer weekends do; without much discussion we separated to our own tasks.