Tell Me...

I realized before he even reached my house that I wasn't nervous about seeing him...I was terrified that he might tell me.

My dog barked, and I knew he had arrived. I walked over to the front door and opened it slightly to see him making his way to my porch.

And it was not what I had expected. Since the last time I saw him he'd lost a good 60 pounds (and he did used to be a touch chubby), he'd cut off that damn pony-tail, and his hair was spikey.

Holy fuck.

We retreated to my room, and the moment the door closed behind us, he took me into his arms, not saying anything. And I thought he might tell me.

But he didn't, and we got comfy on my bed to watch a movie.

Somewhere during the movie, though, I noticed that he was looking at me. He began gently brushing my face with his fingers - he used to always do that before he kissed me. And I thought he might tell me.

But some things don't change, I guess. And rather than telling me, he kissed me so gently that, had I not seen him lean in, I might not have felt his lips. His kisses slowly grew heavier until our mouths sunk completely together.

My hands began exploring his back, his arms, and I realized how completely adorable his body was. He moved his lips from my mouth, down my face, to my neck, and stopped to nibble. I felt his fingers gliding over my stomach, and, as slowly as he'd progressed his kisses with me, his hand traveled up to my chest.

This surprised me, actually. He'd always been the shy type, and I honestly didn't think he'd have the balls to journey anywhere underneath my clothing. But when he maneuvered his hand behind me and unhooked my bra, I understood...he knows what he's doing.

"What are you thinking?" he asked at this time, and I was shocked by how much he reminded me of myself, in similar situations.

I looked at him and smiled. "I'm thinking you aren't going to like my boobs."

"What?" he asked. "Let me explain something to you about guys and boobs," he continued. "They're boobs...and unless your nipples are pointing to the ground, or something, I can't imagine how I could NOT like them..."

I slipped my bra out of my shirt sleeve, and his hands tenderly explored my breasts. He pressed his lips back to mine, immediately resuming where we had left off. I loved the way each breast fell pefectly into a handful, and suddenly I became aware that I was rather enjoying the attention he was giving to them.

He moved his lips gradually from my mouth to my chest, and then paused to uncover my breasts from my shirt. My heart stopped - I'm always fearful of a guy's first reaction. He didn't say anything though, he simply fluttered his lips and tongue so lightly over my nipples that I could hardly feel it - and, as had been his routine, delicately increased the pressure of his mouth.

And it happened. I realized how fucking turned on I was by this. How it didn't produce that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach that I've come to expect from any concentration on my nipples. Then I glanced down at him and noticed how incredibly sexy he looked doing this. His eyes met mine for a minute, and I asked if it bothered him to be watched. He simply raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

He had managed to completely make me forget about it and how he was not telling me...