I didn’t really know what to expect, but all together, Mark was throwing out some signals my way. Over the last couple of months, his actions have gone from subtle to more obvious. However, I do know what to think. Mark can be quite the prankster. This could all be an elaborate joke he’s been working on, so I needed to be cautious. Not let on to how I feel about him. Not until I have confirmation that he feels the same way about me.
He’s very, very girl crazy. He’s constantly looking at and talking about girls. If it’s a cover, it’s a damn good one.
He returned from the bathroom, wrapped only in a blue towel. A sight to behold. I never tire of admiring his body. He walked to his dresser and simply let the towel fall off of his slim waist. I think I might have gasped, as he lifted his legs, one at a time, to pull on a pair of red boxer briefs. I couldn’t have asked for a better angle, taking in a backside, to profile image. Keeping hidden the mystery that lurks front and center. What a tease! Or was he simply shy or modest? Does he have any idea what he’s doing to me?
He turned away from the dresser and sashayed toward his bed, where I was laying with my eyes glued to his every step. I willed myself to look at his face, but I timed my blinks with quick glances down, to the front of his red undergarment. It was completely out of my control.
He hopped up next to me and mimicked my posture, on his back, with his hands behind his head. With both of us looking at the ceiling, I was able to steal some quick glances from his armpits to his toes. We talked about I’m not sure what because my mind kept drifting off into my own private fantasy.
Eventually Mark noticed my lack of participation in the conversation. He decided it must have been due to tiredness. I didn’t argue the point. He leaned over to his nightstand and cued up some quiet ambient music and turned off the light, and we said our goodnights.
I laid awake for what felt like hours, waiting to see if he was going to embark on one of his exploration missions. It was fresh in my mind that he hadn’t done so on our last few sleepovers. I’m not really sure what I would do if he did, but I told myself I would reciprocate. Easier said than done.
It became obvious to me that he was sleeping and had no intention of feeling his way around. I turned myself onto my side facing him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, in concert with his quiet breathing. There was just enough light coming into the room to make out his shadowed form. His messy hair splayed out across his pillow. His long eyelashes. His button nose and slightly open, full lips.
I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. God I wanted to kiss him. Gazing further down, I watched his chest once again. Admiring his developing pectoral muscles. He doesn’t have one of those sunken kid chests. His is defined and perfect. I looked lower until my peep show ended just below his ribcage, where the rest of him was hidden by the thick blanket their covered us.
I wanted to see more of him, but I feared removing the blanket would wake him. The cooler air invading his warm body. I slid my hand along the space between us, until I could feel the heat emanating from his body. I so desperately wanted to reach further. To touch him. To feel him. I reached just a little bit further, placing a few fingertips on his soft skin. The contact caused my heartbeat to speed up, as it thumped at a deafening volume in my ears.
After a few minutes, I edged my fingers along his soft skin, until I felt the fabric of his boxer briefs. The freight train in my head got louder and more intense. I felt my body warm up, like I was about to break into a sweat. As much as I wanted to do this, I don’t know if I can. My body might betray me by going into convulsions, shaking wildly.
I removed my hand from Mark’s underwear and wrestled with myself. I so desperately wanted to move forward, but I had all these doubts. And there was the moral angle as well. Right when I thought I had talked myself out of it, my hand sought him out again, all on its own. My thumb stayed on this waistband, as my other four fingertips branched out to points below. There was no backing out now. I slid my hand along the uphill curve of his body. Creeping and stopping at a painfully slow pace.
Then it happened. My index finger bumped into a rise in the fabric. I froze. Thump. Thump. Thump. If I moved any further, I would be right on top of his most private domain. My curiosity and sexual drive was urging me forward, but I withdrew. I just couldn’t do it uninvited. It felt like too much of a violation. Even though he had done it to me, more than once, and I didn’t mind. I just couldn’t follow through.
It was equal parts shame, for the violation, and fear of being caught. I decided if it was meant to be, that I would get to know that part of his body, it would have to be on different terms. Terms that involved a mutual invitation and trust. Until that day arrives, if it does arrive, I will have to return to my fantasy.
Mark shifted in his sleep, and the hand that was draped across his tummy, was now lying on the mattress between us. I reached for it and laced my fingers through his. A few minutes later, I fell asleep, with a smile on my face.