The Uncertainty of the Meek 

Part 2 A Blossoming

The start of school signaled an end to our summer-long slumber party and
Sarah's arrival as the class beauty queen. By sixteen, I had most of the
curves I have now. I was reasonably attractive and moderately fashionable.
I didn't draw attention to myself, so drew little notice from my
classmates. Sarah, always my opposite, was one of the people who everyone
in school knew of. If you started a sentence "Sarah Fielding. . .,"
everyone knew who you were talking about.

She broke her leg rock climbing in September, and the forced time-out from
athletics allowed her to develop breasts that must have been waiting for
her to slow down a second. Sarah will never be voluptuous, but by the time
her cast came off, she went from being the nearly breastless amazon queen
to a true beauty whose slight cleavage would draw stares when anyone could
get a look.

Sarah's previously small cadre of boy followers grew into an army of
suitors. She intimidated these boys too much for them to ask her out or
even for a dance. However, a growing number started to send clues her way
that they were ripe for the picking.

Our Friday and Saturday night sleepovers often turned to gossip about the
merits of this boy or that. While I couldn't imagine dating anyone myself,
I assumed that Sarah--always unwilling to settle for anything less than
exactly what she wanted--was sizing up these boys in earnest.



Michi," she said, her hand brushing across the front of my leg, "Steve
asked me out today."

Like usual, I saved up my words for when they were truly needed, so I let
her go on without interruption.

"He came up to me after trig. He wants me to go to a movie with him next
weekend." She pressed her lips into my ear and gave me a little tickle
over my sensitive ribs. I drew in my breath and felt a shiver move down my
side.

She continued to caress me, running her fingers through my hair or stoke
my cheek as she went through the ritual of questions about the current
suitor. "Is he cute, Michi, do you think so?" "Michi, do you think he'd
try something?" "Do you think he'd be nice to me, Michi?" "Does he really
want to go out with me, or does he want to go out with Sarah Fielding?"
The last question always bought a slight giggle from me, which she paid
for with a kiss on my neck.


Occasionally, our weekend nights together were interrupted by a date. I
would stay home and read a book, while Sarah would come up with a list of
everything the poor boy was doing wrong. It didn't occur to me until much
later that I had gone farther with Sarah than any boy she had ever dated,
yet I was neither trying, nor even realized that we were making out.

Once, after I had done something extremely unusual--perhaps stayed out too
late--because a friend had egged me on, my mother asked the usual parent
question, "If she asked you to jump off a cliff, would you?" With Sarah, I
would have. I didn't feel I had to do anything she said, but I trusted her
so completely that I could not conceive that she would ever do
anything--or ask me to do something--which would hurt me.

So, when Sarah's caresses became bolder, it didn't seem unusual or threatening.



Sarah had finished her Saturday night summary of Friday night's poor date
and was chatting on about the movie she had seen. The movie was apparently
much more interesting than poor Rob. By now, she was routinely kissing my
neck and caressing the sides of my breasts, with occasional brushes over
the top. I was usually aroused, although I didn't quite think of it that
way--somehow, I just thought about it as being flushed or excited, or even
simply very friendly-happy. Her caresses raised goose-bumps on my skin and
made my heart race; I closed my eyes to savor her gentle kisses; I drank
in her words with feverish need, but I never allowed myself to think of
what was happening. I was the most timid with myself.

Our evenings typically consisted of her feeling me up while chatting away
about whatever the topic of the day was. But that night, she sucked my
earlobe into her mouth and stroked it with her tongue while her hands went
under my t-shirt and slowly moved up to the undersides of my breasts. Her
words didnąt resume as her mouth moved across my neck and her fingers
began tracing circles around my nipples.

She pulled my shoulder down towards the bed and kissed her way across my
neck, her hand now vigorously caressing my breasts. I must have known what
was about to happen, but my mind was almost blank. In the darkness of the
room, all I could see was Sarah's silhouette, her beautiful green eyes
sparkling, and her halo of golden hair. She sat up<, and my breathing
almost stopped. Slowly, she pulled her t-shirt off and tossed it aside.

Taking each of my hands, she kissed their palms in turn, pressing them to
her cheeks, and then breathed in from them deeply. I could see her breasts
rise. The only sound I heard was my heart beating.

She kept my hands in hers and lowered her lips to my ears. More breathily
than any words I had ever heard before, she said, "Michi, take off your
shirt for me."

The jolt of her words breaking the long silence almost took me out of my
growing trance. I responded too slowly, and she took my hands and guided
them to the bottom of my shirt and helped me take it off.

She laid me back down and kissed down from my neck to my right nipple. I
threw my head back, biting my lip. The pleasure was almost too intense.
Her tongue circled my nipple and then, slowly, she pulled her mouth away.

Climbing on top of me, she took my head into her hands and kissed my lips.
My lips parted for her tongue, and we kissed, our breath coming in and out
of crushed nostrils in weak gasps, until we could no longer hold out. She
pulled her mouth away from mine, and we sucked in the air, now full of the
scent of our arousal.

She kissed my face a hundred times, rapidly placing her moist lips on my
wet skin. She sat up next to me; her skin glowed red and was visible even
in the dim lighting of my room. I could see every one of her teeth as she
smiled.

"Michi, please, I need you to undress all the way. Please, Michi, please."
It wasn't the assertive voice Sarah normally used, but a desperate plea.

I lifted my bottom from the bed and pulled my panties off. They were
soaked. She took them from my fingers, brought them to her face, and
smelled them. When she took them away, I could see she was crying.

"Michi, Michi, I love you." She bit her lip, her face an odd combination
of desperation, fear, and joy.

"I know." I wasnąt aware that I had known until that moment.

"No, Michi, I mean I am in love with you. I need you desperately." Her
eyes, turned away from me. She was shaking. Why she should be afraid, my
fearless Sarah, at this moment, I couldn't fathom. Of course she loved me;
I loved her more than anything else, literally anything else, I could
dream of. 

Sarah, my world, my universe. I laughed almost silently.

"Sarah, I think I've always been in love with you." As before, I revealed
the truth to myself as well as Sarah.

She turned back to me, still looking apprehensive. "I need you to make
love to me, Michi. Own me, Michi. Own me."

I kissed her deeply, again until our breaths gave out. "I'm not sure I
know how."

She smiled and lay down beside me. Her hand crept between my legs and
began stroking me while she kissed my breasts and neck. At first, her
fingers stayed away from my blossoming petals, just missing them as she
caressed my inner thigh. I clutched myself to her, and her caresses began
to pluck at my nectar. Her hand, if not experienced, was keen to the
nuances of my body; she didn't touch my clit or penetrate my tunnel until
my eyes had lost focus and my back arched high. Then she drove her fingers
into me, slowly at first. But she rapidly increased her pace. She let her
thumb stroke my clit when she pulled her fingers out on each stroke.

She repeated my name, softly, desperately, as she humped against my thigh.
I began orgasming; my fingers dug into her forearm and side. I could
hardly think about anything; the pleasure was overwhelming. It was nearly
too much, bordering on a delicious torment. While it seemed like a petite
lifetime, I suspect if it had lasted even another breath, I would have
crossed to the point of agony.

Once I returned to the world, I could not move. I just lay there, mouthing
"Sarah, my love, Sarah, Sarah," and gibberish. Sarah still lay beside me,
softly caressing me, rubbing against my thigh while I recovered.

As my limbs regained strength, I began exploring her; making my long held
feelings into movement and touch. I kept asking, "is this good?" as my
mouth and fingers explored every part of her body. My kisses became soft
bites and then kisses again, as I tasted her breasts, her neck, her
wonderful, perfect lips, her iron belly, her steel thighs. "Yes, yes,
yes," was all my verbose Sarah could reply.

Everything was kissed, caressed, touched, loved, except for there. "Kiss
me there, Michi, please. Own me. I'm yours."
 
I plunged between her thighs, putting her legs over my shoulder, and began
devouring her. I was determined to make her come until she broke my back
with her legs. She finally pushed my head away, "No more. I can't take any
more."

The next morning, we didn't know how to behave. Somehow, it had all
changed. We were in love and had admitted it to each other, but how to
behave in from of our parents, at school? We didn't know. We managed to
make it through Sunday brunch with my parents without acting too strangely
and then went for a drive out to the countryside where we just held hands
and watched the creek run.