Silent Weeks Sequel

While not absolutely necessary, it is recommended that you read Silent Weeks first, if you have not already, so that certain things in this story will make much more sense.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After realizing that I had just moved forward and kissed her, I took a second to enjoy it before becoming self-conscious enough to pull back.

I doubted that she would have been offended by it, but, to my pleasant surprise, I opened my eyes to see a rather large smile. Since there was only ambient morning sunlight, I couldn’t tell for sure, but judging by her expression, I would have been willing to bet that she had blushed at least a little bit.

“Hey,” I mirrored her sweet greeting.

Having gone weeks without relying on words, I was not only hesitant to say anything more, as well as not sure what I wanted to say. Or more accurately, I wasn’t sure where I wanted to start. Perhaps she felt the same, because both of us just silently looked into each other’s eyes for a brief moment.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” I admitted. “I hope it was okay.”

“I have no point of reference, but I enjoyed it.”

That was comforting, for many reasons.

“We can practice, later,” she added.

That was pleasing, for many reasons.

“I’d like that very much.”

We were silent for a while more.

“I love how clever you are,” I eventually said. “I love that you’re assertive but also understated.”

Part of me wanted to add beautiful to the list, but I always felt like just saying it was little more than lip service, not to mention superficial.

“I love that you’re kind and can appreciate delayed gratification,” she returned.

An interesting choice of qualities to mention. Likely a direct reference to that fact that we just spent the night, half naked, in the same bed, and I didn’t try to make any moves on her. Well… apart from the kiss, that is.

“I’ve had some fantasies like this,” I revealed. “Never thought they’d ever come true, though.”

“We can make a lot of each other’s fantasies come true.”

An enticing prospect, to be sure.

“Do you have any particular fantasy that you’d like to start with,” I inquired. I was eager to hear her secret desires.

“I’ve already started.”

Did not expect that, but considering these past weeks have been pretty much her show to begin with, I suppose it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.

Still under the covers, and moving only enough to inch herself closer to my face, she then spoke in a quieter tone, still looking me directly in the eyes.

“I’ve been fingering myself since you kissed me.”

I absolutely did not expect that, and she said it with no expression change at all. I was taken aback, so it took me a few seconds to realize that she meant that she was still doing it… at that present moment… while staring me in the eyes.

That’s why her other arm was still under the covers.

I was not sure how to react to this, apart from becoming uncontrollably aroused. Her mentioning my appreciation for delayed gratification was suddenly much more prescient

I was at a loss for words and actions. Both of my hands happened to be visible to her, and I felt a great urge to adjust my… newly gained mass, but doing so felt like the wrong move, so I just endured it.

“I need to get dressed and go home for a while. I need you to stand up at the corner of the bed, face the closet, and close your eyes.”

Might be a slight complication with that plan.

“I’m in my underwear and quite aroused, right now,” I warned.

“I suspect so.” She was completely unfazed.

Ok, then. I guess she’s gonna have a gander at muh notch. The ol’ boy buldge. The… meat… mound- Give me a break. I’m just trying to work up the nerve, here, okay?

I slid out of bed and did as she instructed. I could understand closing my eyes, but I wasn’t sure why I needed to stand in that particular spot, facing that particular direction.

My heartrate was certainly elevated, but not so much that a pounding in my ears drowned out the sounds of her getting out of bed. A moment later, her hand took mine, brought it forward, and turned it palm up.

This was only coincidentally level with her crotch, right? What was she about to do?

I felt material being put into my hand.

“Hold this,” she instructed, and then closed my fingers around it, firmly.

By the feel of it, I was holding the bottom hem of the shirt… while she was still wearing it. And it was moist.

I suddenly realized probably why it was moist. Oh, my.

She released my hand, and then I felt a quick and somewhat chaotic pull on the fabric, before it simply fell loose, hanging from my grip.

Did she just pull herself out of it?

A moment later I heard the closet door open, the light switch being flipped, and then the door close. I was pretty sure that she had just went into the walk-in closet to get dressed, so I considered it safe to open my eyes.

Indeed, she was in the closet. I held the shirt in my other hand to see the darkened patch.

Don’t sniff it. Don’t sniff it. Don’t sniff it.

I set it on the bed, to remove temptation, and then went to pee. Afterward, I took a moment to wash my hands a face, largely to recover, and then returned to the bedroom and put on my pants.

The closet door opened, and out she stepped wearing my pair of black cargo pants and another one of my shirts.

I was confused. I mean, I liked the site. Cross one more fantasy off the list, but I was still confused. She walked up to me.

“I need to borrow your phone for a while.” Another completely unexpected request.

I had never really made a practice of questioning her, but “Why” just kind of fell out on its own.

“I need reference material. It’s a surprise.”

It’s not that I didn’t trust her. I just typically used my phone to play games, and whatnot, in the morning. If she was leaving, then that would have been my opportunity.

“I usually play games in the morning.”

Shut up, dumbass. You’re literally in the act of handing it to her.

She took it, and then her slight smile became a bit less slight. She picked up the loose shirt and put it in my hand.

“I’m sure you can find something to pass the time. Use your imagination.”

My imagination?

… Ohhhhh….

She turned and exited the bedroom.

“I’ll leave my phone here, in case you need it to make a call. Or anything.”

After she drove away, I went into the closet. As I suspected, her clothes from yesterday were on the floor. Since she basically gave me the green light, I took her clothes to my bed, stripped down, lay on the bed and used my imagination until I released several weeks of pent up sexual frustration.

And it was a good one.

I had considered sniffing the wet patch on the shirt, but I decided that I didn’t want my first time smelling her most intimate scent to have that scent tainted by the fabric of my own shirt. I wanted that to be a pure experience.

I finished cleaning up with a shower, put on fresh clothes, and then realized that she didn’t give any indication of how long she would be gone.

Since I apparently also had permission to use her phone, I sat on the sofa and checked to see if she used a screen lock.

She did not.

Normally, this kind of nosiness was a major no-no for me, but this was an exceptional circumstance, so I delighted in looking at her contacts list, gallery, and music files.

Her contacts consisted of her parents and a couple of businesses. The gallery was not too surprising. I listened to a number of the songs that I didn’t recognize, and I was quite pleased with how many we had in common, of the ones that I did hear. She had pretty good taste, even if it was just my opinion on the matter.

After some internal debate, I decided to look at her social media. There was only one, and her last contribution to it was over a month ago. Suspiciously close to the day she caught me staring at her legs, in fact. That’s interesting.

Not knowing if she had unlimited data, I set her up on the landlord’s WIFI, and checked out her online video website app history. Nothing there that I outright disliked, and a lot that looked pretty interesting, so I watched a few. I even added a few of my own favorites to her list for later viewing.

I was (intentionally, I might add) not keeping track of the time, but I guessed several hours passed. I was listening to another song, which drowned out the sound of her tires crunching the gravel driveway, so her opening the front door was a surprise.

I barely glanced at her, before pausing the music, but that fraction of a glance was enough for me to realize something was different.

I looked up, giving my full attention to the discovery of a changed outfit. For a fraction of a second, I actually questioned whether or not what I was seeing was real.

She was wearing her boots, a pair of over-the-knee socks, and a zipped up cat-ears hoodie. All black. I had never seen anyone wearing anything similar to that outfit, in real life, and definitely not in this small town.

She was also carrying a bag, but my focus left that upon realizing that she was also wearing some black shorts. They had simply blended into the lumpy bottom of the hoodie, so I hadn’t noticed until she had moved closer.

Pretty good chance my face noticeably lit up, as those were some of my favorite things to see chicks wearing. And there she was, wearing them, walking towards me, looking me in the eye. By her expression, she was pleased, but I also saw a hint of apprehension that made sense if this was not how she normally dressed.

She set her bag on the floor, in front of the coffee table, and continued toward me. A pause, right in front of me, and then she took her phone from my hand, and set in on top of the coffee table.

Something was about to happen. My heart picked up the pace.

Similar to when she shaved my face, she moved my arms aside, pushed my knees together, and the eased forward over them. Never breaking eye contact, one knee after the other bent until she was sitting on me and the sofa.

She offered another dramatic pause before using one hand to slowly pull down her hoodie zipper.

Holy crap, is she topless under this? Surely not. Not at this stage.

I struggled to keep my focus on her eyes.

Once she got it down as far as she could with one hand, she lifted both hands to part the material half open. Dropping her hands loose at her sides, she just waited. That was my cue to take a look.

It was a black bikini top that tied in front. Not only that, but it was the right kind. I was blown away. Everything was perfect.

“Black Rock Shooter,” I said quietly.

She gave a slow nod, before taking my phone out of her hoodie pocket and setting it on the cushion beside us.

“You looked at all my saved pictures and deduced what I liked the most.”

Her smile creeped up a moment.

The timing of all this was suspicious. Granted, I didn’t know for certain, but I strongly suspected that no stores in this town sold cat-ears hoodies, and it wasn’t swimsuit season. She must have had at least some of this already, but did that mean she liked it already, or that she knew I liked it before today?

“How did you have this so quickly,” I inquired. Not only did I want to satisfy my curiosity, but it was also a turn-on to hear her elaborate on her cleverness.

She took my hands and placed them on the exposed part of her thighs, but kept her hands on mine.

“One time, when I was sitting behind you, on a day someone else had my desk, you had your phone out, and you were looking through some of your pictures. You didn’t realize that I was peeking over your shoulder. I learned a lot, that day.” Another momentary smile upcreep.

That was so hot.

Wait.

“You said you needed my phone for reference material,” I indirectly asked.

“That’s for another day.”

Her hands left mine, and then gently set upon the sides of my face. She shortened the gap between our noses, and then revealed one more secret, in a quiet and arousing tone.

“I want to practice kissing.”

I was initially frozen in shock. I had too many experiences going on at one time. I just sat there while she slowly, and delicately placed deliberate kisses on my lips. She was trying out a variety of methods and locations, but it didn’t take too long for instinct to kick in me, and before I realized it, I was matching her.

I gained enough focus to allow me to appreciate the fact that we were doing this with the partial purpose of seeing what worked best. We weren’t judging each other.

Our paces gradually increased with our passion, and my hands migrated to various locations on her legs and sides. I particularly enjoyed holding her ribcage.

She seemed to be most fond of holding my head and face, and I was absolutely all for it. Whether the palms of her hands, or just her fingertips, I was enthralled by her touch.

Who knows how long we were at it, but she eventually pulled her face away, breathing heavily.

I hoped she wasn’t done.

Her eyes had an unexpected sense of purpose, then she picked up my phone, turned it on, and then tapped it once, before setting it back down on the cushion. Her hands returned to my face and music began to play.

It took a second for me to recognize that it was “Turn To Real Life”, by Shiny Toy Guns, which happened to be one of my favorite songs.

She kissed me more as the intro played, but then did something completely unexpected. Her face pulled away. I opened my eyes to she that she was still close, and she was looking at my face, instead of my eyes.

And then she started singing with the song.

“Eyes are magic See right through me Makes me feel like A girl in a fantasy Turned to real life”

She closed in to kiss again. I wasn’t sure why she stopped singing, but the song continued.

After the second verse, she pulled away again.

“Now I’m glowing Like a sunset In the window Of my dreams”

She wasn’t trying to exactly match the song. She kept up with it well enough, but her style was her own. As if she was telling me these things herself. And quietly enough that, if someone was on the other side of the room, then they would not hear it.

My emotions swelled, at this realization, to the point that I gasped.

She kissed me more as the chorus played.

During the bridge, she pulled back again and stared into my eyes.

“Your fingers running Over my body Makes me feel like A silver angel”

She then lunged back in and kissed at a faster pace. Like she lost control.

During the repetition of the chorus, she managed only a few lines, and some partial ones. She seemed decidedly distracted.

“Turned to real life”

“feel li”

“I’m a believer”

“I can be”

At the end of the last line, she pulled her lips away, but rested her forehead against mine. She was practically panting.

She grabbed my hand and placed my palm flat between her breasts. I could feel her heart pounding.

“Didn’t quite go as planned,” she confessed.

I stroked the side of her face with my free hand. I didn’t know exactly what her plan was, so I didn’t want to say anything cheap or incorrect, but I did want to convey that it was alright, and that I appreciated it.

“I’ve imagined myself singing that to someone worthy of it.”

Pausing for breath between sentences.

“I even memorized the song, in the hopes of one day being able to. I’ve sung it flawlessly countless times. I kept forgetting lines. Nervous as hell.”

So, she did have her insecurities, after all.

She wrapped fingers of both hands around the back of my head and then gave me one firm, extended kiss as she shifted her hips closer to my torso.

“And very distracted.”

Her hips began to swivel and press into my crotch. I let out a small groan and my semi grew into a total package. She cracked a brief smile.

“Grab my hips.”

I moved my hands to either side of her, and she offered another kiss, and then she licked my forehead.

W- why did she lick my forehead?… I’m not complaining.

“I want you to grind into me until you cum in your pants.”

My mind did the equivalent of a spit take. What?

“I want to watch your face.”

Oh, god, that was working for me. I firmly gripped her and took control of her movements.

She released one hand from my head and moved her mouth to that ear. With her no longer in sight, I closed my eyes.

“I want to hear what sounds you make,” she whispered, and then used her lips and tongue to tease my ear.

This would not take long.

I was not usually very vocal, but if she wanted results, then I would happily go unrestrained.

When my own hips began a shallow rise and fall, she left my ear, and then I could feel her contributing to my grinding. She had found some synchronousity, making slight shifts as pressure was applied, and the fact that she was actively participating spurred me along.

I wondered if she was wearing any underwear. How much was she feeling? How much was she physically enjoying it? The material of her shorts rubbing against her clit, directly or not. Envisioned it.

I offered her grunts and groans. Gasps and sighs. All an exaggeration of my norm, true, but perhaps even more sincere, since I was not holding back.

Almost there. The final press. Ohhhh, and then the release, just enough let the cum flow. Each pulsing rise lightly pushed against her crotch. Faint though it may have been to sense, she still knew it was happening, and beautifully told me.

“I feel it.

That satisfaction, alone, overshadowed the less than pleasing feel of my balls now being coated and squishy inside my boxer briefs. Mind you, that was actually a displeasure associated with the soiling of otherwise clean laundry. There was a certain satisfaction in the physical sensation.

I finally relaxed, and opened my eyes to see her smile. That was the best reward, after all.

That smile.

I did that.

In the afterglow, it was my turn to grab her hands. I kissed one of her palms before moving them both over my face and through my hair. My elevated senses, relished it. She understood and took over.

“Was that what you wanted,” I asked, almost rhetorically.

“And more,” she assure, and then licked my forehead once, again.

Why was she licking my forehead? Both times weren’t distinctly “sexy” licks. Was she tasting me, for some reason?

I didn’t care enough to actually ask. It would undoubtedly be revealed at some point in the future. I was patient.

I pulled her head in for a quick kiss.

“I need another shower.”

“Another?” She grinned.

“Use your imagination.” And that’s what’s called a call-back.

She put her hands on my chest to pushed herself back and off of my lap.

I really wanted to see the rest of that bikini top, but shower first, then who knows?

“I need to pee, first,” she said.

I went to my closet to grab fresh clothes. While I was in there, I happened to remember a particular T-shirt that I had bought a year or two previously. I wanted it because it had a cool fan-created picture of one of my favorite comic book characters, but I never wore it more than once.

It was a snug shirt, made of thin material, and it was longer than a normal shirt. I loved the shirt, but it was not practical enough for me to wear.

But she could probably wear it as a mini dress. A form-fitting mini dress that I imagined would look extremely nice if worn without a bra, because it happened to be a dark gray that would make… smaller details easier to see.

My plan was to sneak it into her bag, but I probably didn’t have time at the moment, as she was only peeing, and the shirt was packed away.

I quickly retrieved the shirt, but only hid it some place easier to get to, and then waited for a more opportune time to make the move. I exited the closet as the bathroom door opened.

“After I’m done, I’m cooking this time,” I said.

She offered a pleased grin as she went to gather her yesterday’s clothes from my bed…. where I had left them… after wanking to thoughts of her… which she indirectly suggested doing anyway.

Fuck, yeah!

Anyway, I showered, then cooked. We ate on the sofa, without watching a movie. We were silent, again, and I relished in the fact that it was not awkward.

After washing dishes, there seemed to be no apparent plans, and I had questions.

I was behind her as she started out of the kitchen. I swooped to her, wrapped my arms securely around her waist, and lifted her straight up.

Most girls would probably have let out a short scream of pleasant surprise. She offered a milder, pleased sound, which I appreciated.

I clumsily kissed her cheek once as she laughed, and then I carried her around to the sofa, where I fell backward along the length of it, with her laying on her back on top of me.

“So, you’re saying you were checking me out even before you caught me checking you out?”

She let out another small laugh.

“You were a person of interest.”

A sly response.

Well done.

“Did you already have the skirts, or did you buy the special?”

She paused in thought.

“I’d wanted to wear stuff like that, but I never had a reason, so I never bought any of it. After I snuck a peek at your gallery, and got a general idea of your preferences, I was inspired to get some of those things that I did like. I was… hopeful.”

I gave her a sweet squeeze. It was an encouraging thing to hear.

“What made you decided to pull the trigger with me? I mean, staring at your legs seems like a small thing, relatively speaking.”

“It was an opportunity. I liked how you reacted. You were… courteous, but unapologetic. I had a gut feeling about what kind of person you were, and I decided it was worth testing.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Any more of that, and I might just start tearing up. I kissed her head. We were silent for a while.

“Does your bag mean you’re staying the night, again?”

“Unfortunately, no. Wish I could. I like it here. I mean, I’m not really a fan of antiques, but this place is just weird enough that it kind of makes me feel like I’m in our own private pocket universe.”

Pocket universe. This girl trying to make me horny again? I’m already gonna be doing more laundry than usual.

“Gonna make me run out of underwear, girl.”

That got a good laugh out of her.

“Guess I better reign in the sexy talk, then.” Pause for comedic timing. “I gotta take a shit.”

That got a good laugh out of me.

Not reigning it in as much as you might think. [insert internal uncomfortable laughter]

I let go of her, she got off of me, and let her fingers brush along my face as she made her way toward the bathroom.

Now was my chance. When I heard the door close, I got up to get the T-shirt, opening and closing the door as quietly as I could. In the living room, I unzipped her bag and made a quick assessment of the contents.

Yesterday’s clothes and a lap top. Curiously, not the clothes of mine that she borrowed. Did she put them in the laundry basket without me noticing? No matter.

I hid the T-shirt under her clothes, and then zipped the bag, hoping that she wouldn’t check it before returning home.

I wondered if she brought the bag specifically to give me a chance to do something like this. Hmm.

Okay, now sit down and do stuff on your phone.

Look natural.

Hey. She put herself in my contacts. Sweet. Idea. Heh heh.

Text: Dude, I can’t believe how awesome this chick is. She’s not afraid to tell me when she has to take a shit in my apartment. SCORE!

And send. Her phone sounded a notification, I read it so she would not notice it, hopefully, at least until she was back at home, and then I put her phone back where it was.

I was sitting on the sofa when she eventually reappeared. Her hoodie was zipped back up, which probably meant she was about to leave. It was well into the evening, and I know I had classes tomorrow. Fair chance she did, too.

I grabbed her phone from the coffee table as I stood, and then handed it to her. She put it in her hoodie pocket and wrapped her arms around my neck for a kiss.

“See you Wednesday,” she said.

Not tomorrow, then?

Pity.

She picked up her bag and left.

I stood at the door and watched her drive away.

~

I endured Tuesday.

On Wednesday, she walked in, after I was already seated. She started down the outer aisle, which meant she would be sitting in her normal seat, but with all the students between us, I was unable to see what she was wearing.

After passing the last seated student, I was rewarded with a skirt and a pair of black over-the-knee sock with two white stripes at the top.

Nice.

And she’s wearing my shirt that she borrowed! (not the one I hid, to be clear)

Double nice.

As she approached her seat, she walked past it- wait, what?

I heard her sit in the desk behind me.

Now, that was either a change of mind, or a deliberate tease.

So, did this mean she would be dropping me another secret message? Seemed like the panties game would be played out by now, but I was cool either way.

“I’m not wearing panties,” I suddenly heard whisper next to my ear.

A shiver went through me, and I gained a little mass, you know… downstairs.

Oh, what did she have in store for me today?

During the course of the class, her fingers made brief strokes across my back, neck, and the hair at the base of my skull. At one point, she even licked the back of my neck.

I figured she was taking opportunities when she was confident that she would not be seen by the professor or other students. It would explain why they were so quick and sporadic.

At another point, I felt her fingers hook my bicep and pull. I moved my arm backward, not quite sure what she was doing, but then her hand sliding down my arm told me she wanted my hand. I held it back as far as I could, below desk level, without looking like that was exactly what I was doing.

She bent my wrist, putting my palm up, and held it in place for a second, in a cupped position. I was evidently meant to wait for something to be put into my hand, so I did.

I speculated what it might be. Some kind of food treat? A note? Apparently speaking to each other during class was no longer against the rules. A pair of rolled up panties with a day on them?

No, no. Enough with the days panties. You’re obsessed with panties.

My thoughts were interrupted by something touching me. She swiped her finger down the length of my palm. And then nothing. Was that it?

Wait.

Did it feel… wet?

I focused on the sensation on my palm. Where she swiped felt slightly cooler than the rest of it. Was this supposed to be some variation of a wet willy?

Or….

I close my hand abruptly and let my arm hang relaxed.

Did she…? Was she… fingering herself… during class?

My mind raced trying to calculate the odds.

She apparently secretly fingered herself in bed with me, while staring right at me, so she certainly wouldn’t have any qualms about doing it while sitting right behind me.

Would she do it in a public place? There’s no precedent for that, however, she is wearing over-the-knees to class for the first time. She suggested that she would never wear those in public, without reason, and that I gave her a reason. Would that reasoning translate? Did she wear them to specifically serve as a clue for this very speculation?

Would she do it in a room of other people, even if secretly? She’s been essentially fingering me during class.

Am I reading way too much into everything? Would I be able to sniff it without looking like weirdo sniffing his own palm?

I could scratch my opposite eye, or something, placing the palm directly in line with my nose. Yeah, that would work.

But do I want to? I wanted the first time I smelled her to be untainted.

Maybe lick it- NO! Same principle! You’re such a pervert.

Heh heh. I know I am.

Quiet.

Now’s not the time.

Think.

Okay, so, I’m not going to sniff it or taste it. And it seems bad form to wipe it off. So, I’ll just leave it as it is.

But is she waiting for me to sniff it? Dammit! Will I disappoint her by NOT doing it?

How much longer until this class is over? I am absolutely ruined for it.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too long before the class ended. I really wanted to kiss her, but I kept it together, and started gathering my things.

She was about to walk by me, and do so closely. I felt suddenly in a zone. There was an instant of calm. The mind no-mind.

I licked my finger and held it out in just the right place, at just the right time, so that her movement grazed it, leaving a moist streak across the exposed skin of her outer thigh, and then I continue packing up.

Flawless execution. Perfectly fluid… so to speak.

She kept walking, showing no signs that anything out of the ordinary had happened. I briefly wonder if she even noticed, but, all things considered, I figured it was highly unlikely that she didn’t.

I discretely watched her leaving. When she turned at the front of the aisle, I could see her cracking a smile.

I was good for the rest of the day.

She did not come over that night. No real surprise. She might have homework. Does she have a job? It’s never come up.

I can appreciate the wait. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and whatnot.

~

On Thursday, she sat in her own desk. She wore a pair of shorts, a different hoodie, Converse, and a different pair of over-the-knees.

But what stood out the most was that she had a “smudge” of something on her thigh, curiously in the exact location, and the relative shape, of the swipe that I left on her the previous day.

Noticed: Confirmed.

Nothing unusual happened during class, except occasionally exchanging glances and barely restrained smiles.

I wondered if she would come over that night. Except for certain special subjects, there were no classes on Fridays, so, theoretically, there would be no need to stay home for something class related.

She didn’t foreshadow anything, (not that I noticed, at least), so I went about my day as usual. Shortly after getting home, I received a text.

Excitement!

It was from my occasional employer.

Trepidation.

Text: Need you tomorrow. Can’t pick you up.

I was sort of an as-needed helping hand for a guy that owned some properties out in the country. He usually picked me up, or sent someone to pick me up, although, the rare times he couldn’t, he would pay extra, in case I needed to buy a ride.

He recently bought a new property, and has been cutting scrub trees. I was actually expecting the eventual call to have me come out and do the clean-up. Just didn’t know when.

I wonder if she’d like to go with me and help out.

Wait.

Idea brewing.

I checked for what phase the moon would be in that night.

Almost full.

Good enough.

I didn’t want to have to contact her by phone, but time was a bit of the essence, so I called her.

“Hey, dude. Ready to tell me more about this awesome chick?” she answered.

That felt so good.

“Maybe later. Right now I need to know if you want to go with me, tomorrow, and spend all day feeding trees into a woodchipper?”

“You had me at ‘woodchipper’.”

“I would hope by then. It was the last word in the sentence.”

She chuckled, and then said, in a softer tone that broke character, “Actually, you had me to begin with.”

Internal groan of pleasure.

“The catch is that we have to leave early, and you will have to drive us.”

So, I guess you will have to-

“So, I guess I better just sleep over, then, huh,” she asked, back in character.

Internal SQUEE!

Quit squeeing.

“Yes. Yes you will,” I said, as matter-of-factly as I could.

“I’ll be there in a few hours. I wanna hear more about this awesome chick of yours.”

She hung up.

I may, or may not, have bounced up and down with excitement a few times.

Not important.

Okay. What to do until then? Prepare food. Ooh, wash my sheets.

I started the sheets washing first, and then prepared some meals to have for lunch while out in the middle of nowhere.

Not long after the sheets were clean and warm, back on the bed, she let herself in.

Boots, sweats, cat-ears hoodie zipped. Plump bag (tomorrow’s work clothes?).

Are you hungry,” I asked.

“No. I’m good.”

She carried her bag into the bedroom, and then returned without it to sit beside me, where she began untying her boots.

“So, tell me more about this awesome chick.”

Okay. We can play this for a while.

“Well, she’s kinda bold. But not too bold. No the overbearing or intimidating kind of bold. The confident kind of bold.”

She pulled her boot off. White socks.

“I mean, she still has some insecurities, but she’s not afraid to acknowledge them.”

Untying the remaining boot.

“And she is a little bit of a tease, but only in the best way. Not in way that cuts you off and leaves you disappointed. She always delivers.”

Boot off.

“We both know how to enjoy anticipation.”

She pulled a sock off, and started cleaning between her toes.

“Did I mention her confidence? I think I did.”

Other sock off, and cleaning between toes.

“Wow,” she said. “She sounds pretty cool.”

She got up, pushed the coffee table out a bit, the turn to kneel on the floor in front of me.

“Yep.”

She grabbed my foot, untied and took off my shoe.

“And full of surprises.”

Pulled off my sock and ran a finger between each toe.

“So many surprises.”

Then the other foot.

“She definitely keeps me guessing.”

She stood.

“And I love it.”

She looked at with a neutral face, and unzipped the hoodie at a measured, moderate speed.

Oh my god, she wore it. She wore the shirt.

She peeled off the hoodie and tossed it onto the sofa.

The graphic gave me an excuse, but you bet I was looking at her breasts. The form of her… obviously, otherwise unrestrained… perfectly sized and shaped… giving me an unbelievable boner… that I really want to adjust, but will force myself not to.

Nipples.

Her hands went to the waist band of her sweats.

You know when, like, you hear a sudden noise, that startles you, and you get the blast of a nerve impulse that fires through you, but it’s not strong enough to cause you to flinch? And that flash of light behind your eyes?

That’s what happened to me when she reached for her waistband.

She started pushing them down, over her hips, revealing more of the length of the shirt. After a point, the shirt was bunched up, so she had to carefully, manipulate both the waist band and shirt, so that, by the time the sweats were mid-thigh, so was the bottom hem of the shirt.

Keeping her legs straight, she bent over, pushing the waist band the rest of the way to her ankles.

Straightening back up, she pulled the hem down tight, removing all wrinkles and revealing her more pure form.

She just stood there.

Kept standing there.

I mean, I was certainly enjoying the sight, but it’s been, like, 30 seconds. What is she doing?

She’s stuck in the sweats, isn’t she?

She wore ones with the elastic ankles, and she can’t just slip out of them all sexy like.

I managed to hold back a grin.

I bent over and, one foot at a time, spread the foot hole to let her pull out of them.

I did this more slowly than necessary, as my face was nearest her legs that they had ever been.

Wait.

Did she do that on purpose?

I really wanted to do something to them, like kiss, lick, or give them a playful bite, but I didn’t want to risk ruining whatever she was going for, and, in this instance, doing it only once or twice would be a weak move.

I did, however, inhale her scent, and briefly let my four-days whiskers brush against her. Unfortunately, I couldn’t look to her face for a reaction.

After I had sat back up, her foot moved the puddle of sweats aside, and then she stepped forward, reaching for my waist.

What’s she doing? What’s she doing? Warning! There is a boner in the immediate vicinity!

She clutched the bottom hem of my T-shirt and slowly pulled up. I raised my arms to allow her to complete the task.

She then took one of my hands and guided me to stand, before reaching for my waist as second time.

She’s doing it again, and holy shit it’s pants this time.

Unbuckling. Unbuttoning. Sli-hiiiii-ding the zipper down, still staring me in the eyes.

Pants drop.

“We’ve got any early day, tomorrow,” she said, flatly. “Gotta get plenty of sleep.”

From where I stood, I watched her walk into the bedroom and get into bed.

…

OH MY GOD, SHE’S THE BEST!

My heart was pounding. What a fucking move. From the moment she stepped through the front door. How the hell am I going to sleep with my mind fucking blown?

I gathered up our clothes from the floor, mainly to give my boner time to die down. I went to the bathroom to pee and found an unsurprising pool of pre-cum in my underwear.

I might need to start keeping some extra pairs in here.

After a trip to the closet for an clean pair, I set my alarm, turned off all the lights, and crawled in beside her. She was facing away from me, again, which was probably for the best. Needless to say, it took me a while to fall asleep.

~

Ugh.

Getting up early on Friday morning.

Terrible.

Waking up next to her.

Wonderful.

I was actually eager to find out how she would get dressed. Surely hiding in the closet was old news.

We took turns peeing, and splashing water on our faces.

While I was putting my pants on, I had the great pleasure of watching her step into a pair of basic white cotton panties and pull them up.

No flash of the goods, but that was okay.

I was, however, taken aback when she turned away from me and pulled my borrowed shirt off entirely.

She was clearly very precise in her choice of angle, as I saw nothing of her moderate breasts, even as she put on what appeared to be a sports bra.

Dat ass tho….

And curse those olive green cargo pants that ruined a perfectly good ogling.

Actually, they were doing her some pretty good justice, so curse retracted.

She followed up with her boots, a snug tank top, and a flannel shirt. It was going to be chilly in the morning, but it would warm up enough later.

Last thing was a hair scrunchie for a short ponytail.

I carried the food as we got in the car, and then I played navigator along the way. Mostly just pointing.

At the property, I opened and closed the large swinging gate, and then had her park near the barn. I opened up the large doors to reveal a pickup with the large woodchipper hitched to the back. I pulled it out of the barn, she got in the passenger seat, and we headed out into the farthest reaches of the pasture to start.

Upon arriving, I offered her one of the two pair of well-used gloves that were always kept in the truck.

“We’ll need these,” I warned, handing her an unopened package of earplugs. I had my own personal pair in the glove box.

Outside, I took a moment to assess the situation. Most of the trees and limbs were fine to go in the chipper as-is, but some would have to be sectioned just to move them.

I looked at her. She looked at me.

“You ever use a chainsaw,” I asked.

Her eyebrows raised a little.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Would you like to?”

“Hell. Yes.”

We both smiled as I pulled it out of the bed of the truck. I started it up, gave it a test run, to make sure everything was in working order, and then I showed her how to use it, before handing it to her.

It took her a little time to adjust to the weight of it, but soon enough, she was taking care of business, cutting where I showed her. Once the sectioning was done, I put the chainsaw back in the bed and cranked up the chipper.

We both enjoyed using the woodchipper.

Woodchippers are fun.

Wash, rinse, repeat, in various different locations of the pasture, until we both started wanting lunch, so we stopped for a break. It was going to be a full day, so we didn’t dilly dally. It was pretty much the same routine, with the occasional peeing on of trees. Out of each other’s view, of course.