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08 Mart 2022, 11:41
Author's note: Please, do not proceed with reading this story if you are sensitive to suicide, self-harm or domestic violence.
To look up at a dark and angry sky that is pelting you with tiny cold daggers that drench your hair and clothes as lightning illuminates the silhouettes of the people walking away from you is unnerving.
"Six-feet deep" is not a rule or designation among cemeteries. The average grave can range from four to twelve feet, depending on a few different factors. City and state laws vary greatly, for example. Whether the plot is a single burial site or a "stacked" plot that can hold multiple caskets can also affect the depth a grave is dug.
I found myself at the bottom of one that went well above my 5' 10" frame. Eight? Nine feet deep, I would guess? I could jump and grasp the very edge of the grave but the clay-laden dirt just crumbled away with my weight when I tried to pull myself up. A double plot, maybe?
The beginning stages of metal rigging sat in the "head" part of the grave. There had been a tarp covering the entire grave shortly before, but the wind lifted it and kept it flapping above ground. Stakes still secured it into the ground near where the headstone would be, but it did nothing to protect the hole from the downpour I faced. I had to wonder if the gravediggers would be back after the storm to assess the damage to the impending burial site I found myself in.
Or at least a burial had been impending. With the storm, it could be days before anyone made it back out to finish the rigging. Which meant it could be days before anyone even knew I was down there.
The funeral would likely get postponed for a few days so the grieving family didn't have to contend with the truth of water seeping into many caskets once they're out of sight, increasing the rate of decomposition for their dearly departed. I eyed the materials in the grave with me. I might be able to get one of the poles up above ground and use it to pull myself up.
I could maybe... Lightning flashed somewhere nearby, the brilliance of it was blinding and made the ground vibrate. I quickly backed away from the metal poles of unknown conductive capability. I think all metal can carry some sort of charge from electricity, but some pack a bigger punch than others and I didn't want to find out which kind those poles were when the source alone could kill me.
With the rainwater collecting around my feet, I wondered how deep it would get and how cold it would be. It was early spring, so it was cool out but I doubted it was cool enough to cause hypothermia, but the rain and the ground around me felt awfully cold as I sat in the corner, away from the metal at the other end of the grave as lightning flashed somewhere above ground and the cracking sound of a nearby tree limb falling sent a chill down my spine.
How much water can carry a current? How far can ground current travel? Does it go down or just across? Does metal attract lightning? Would it be murder or an act of god? Pfft, in that town, a "witch" dying would probably get the killers a fucking parade.
Could lightning strike the frame and arc through the water to get at me? Was I going to get electrocuted in the bottom of a stranger's grave? Would I drown first? Could the water get high enough for me to drown?
I was an anxious person, so my brain didn't stop with the questions and I had no way to gauge how long I actually sat in that open grave alone with that jerk. I know the water went from barely coating the slick clay to cascading up my ankles when I stood and paced to try and quiet the disasters going through my head.
The following lightning flash was too bright, illuminating everything above me. I couldn't get my feet out of the water without risking destroying any chance I had of using the slick side walls to climb out. I tried to fashion handholds by digging into the mud at intervals for my hands and feet to climb up, but it didn't work. My hands were slipping on the clay even as it crumbled, refusing to allow me to lift myself. My attempts only resulted in chunks of clay falling into the water at my feet.
I envisioned the water seeping into the clay dirt, making the entire area unstable before eventually crashing in around the metal frame and burying me if I kept trying to climb out on my own.
I'd seen a survival thing before about lifting your shirt with your hands and creating a sort of bubble around your head so you don't breathe in dirt and you might have a fighting chance to claw your way to the surface. Would that work in dirt that was mostly clay? Or would it crush me and make it impossible to claw through?
Why was my brain like that? All negative, all disasters. Nothing positive. It calculated and tried to predict the worst outcomes so I could prepare and work around the risks. I had to predict how people around me would react to anything I did before I did it. Anything else was too risky, too likely to end in me getting hurt.
No one else ankara eryaman escort (https://dreknek.com/ankara/eryaman-escort/) protected me so I had to protect myself. This often meant I made really dumb, rash decisions in the heat of the moment as I weighed out the repercussions of whatever choices lay before me.
There was no turning it off, it was a constant thing I had to contend with. As I sat in that grave, I began to cry because I once again found myself in a situation where I couldn't protect myself. There was no out on my own and I was going to end up a burden to someone, either when they found my body or when they had to help me out. The thoughts began to overwhelm me and I pictured my death in dozens of different ways.
Would anyone actually miss me?
I stood and paced again. The water was over my ankles and beginning to hit the bottom of my calves. I could pace and cry at the same time. Pacing and picturing my bloated and water-logged corpse floating in two inches of water by the time they found me was just an average day for me.
There were no roots to grab onto. Even if I did grab the metal and try to climb up, slimy mud coated my hands. I didn't even have shoes on, so my feet squished into the mud beneath them. I contemplated pulling my shirt off to use it for leverage to climb the pipe Mulan-style. Wet cloth is stronger, right? How deep into the ground was the pipe?
I was so caught up in my disastrous thoughts that I didn't exactly hear the deep voice above and behind me, "Mandy!"
Well, I heard it but I thought I'd just imagined it.
"Amanda!" He called out again, raising his voice over the pounding rain and finally getting me to look up.
Biting my thumbnail, I lifted my reddened eyes to him and shivered before glancing away and hoping he couldn't tell I'd been crying. My voice cracked as I tried to compose myself and yelled, "Are they watching you?"
"No. Come over here."
Walking toward him, and sloshing through the heavy rains, sent a chill through me. I didn't expect him to come back. Of all the scenarios that went through my head, him leaving his friends to come back and get me from their cruel prank wasn't one that came to mind. He reached down to me and grasped my wrists and I grasped his as I pressed my feet against the mud wall. He pulled and leaned back, trying to counter my pulling on him as I tried to climb up.
The grave wasn't as deep as I thought. Fear skewed my perspective, so maybe it was closer to seven feet than nine. Our first attempt to pull me out failed. Between the rain and the mud coating our hands, I made it a few inches up the wall before I slipped from his grip and landed with a splash, back into the cold water at the bottom of the open grave. He sighed and sat up then looked around for a moment before lightning flashed and he left my field of view.
"Nate?" My voice rose in fear of him leaving me alone again.
He came back over with a large limb from a tree. Probably the one I'd heard crack following a lightning strike toward the start of my solitude in the grave. He lowered the limb down to me and, with him straining to hold it, pulled it up as I climbed it.
I'm not sure what he expected when I landed on my hands and knees at the side of the grave. I was shaking, partly from the pelting cold rain still hammering me and partly from the fear of all the dark places my mind went while I was down there. But, he grabbed my wrists and pulled me up to my trembling feet and I hit him.
My palms connected with his chest, knocking him to his ass with a thud as he released his breath and stared at me. My fists clenched at my side again and my nostrils flared as I stared him down, "You left me!" My voice rose in a furious yell as it cracked with my poorly masked fear.
"I had to," he responded as he pulled himself back to his feet.
"You had to? You couldn't tell your friends to leave me alone? To just leave and let me be?"
A sigh got lost in the roaring air between us and he moved closer, "I'm not in control of them, Mandy. You know exactly what would've happened if I tried to make them stop. Then where would we be?"
I hated it when he was reasonable and right.
What would've happened is escalation. Dropping me into a grave wouldn't have been enough. The likely next step, if Nate had intervened, would've been taking my clothes while one of them held a gun on me. Most likely a shotgun or rifle, very few actually carried a handgun and I didn't think Nate would've let them use his. After that, the risks became physical for both of us. They were his friends, but they also cared more about their reputation than any friendship and I had a nasty habit of pissing them off.
As my fears died down tears mixed with the rain on my face and my lower lip became pouty. His gaze averted from me and he wiped the rain from his own face, pushing his hair back in the process. My arms crossed over my chest defensively and he reignited that spark of anger in me as he smiled.
I escort sınırsız çankaya (https://dreknek.com/ankara/cankaya-escort/) huffed and he pulled me into a tight hug while I lifted my hands to push him away. His hand ran down my back in a soothing gesture and my fury rose. He trapped my arms between us as his hug tightened and his deep voice softened, "I'm sorry it took me so long to get back here."
Lightning flashed nearby and he was all that was holding me up as I leaned into him and sobbed against his shoulder. God, how I hated crying. Especially in front of people.
His hand caressed the back of my head and he soothed me as he tightened his grip, "I've got you."
I sniffled and what little light had flooded the area from nearby houses and street lamps flickered with another bright flash of lightning followed by a roar of thunder that made us both jump.
His hand cradled my chin and lifted it until I was looking into his eyes. Nate wiped the rain from my face, pushed my wet hair behind my ears then leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to mine. The headlights from his car kept us from blinding darkness, but we couldn't exactly see each other with clarity, either.
We had flirted before, joked and bullshitted with teasing from time to time when we caught each other out by ourselves, usually on a hike, but there had never been a moment between us that crossed into physical like that. Gentle punches to the shoulder, holding hands, yeah, but a kiss or even anything near one? Not before that night. His lips were much softer than I anticipated. Fuller than they appeared, as well.
The way his hands lifted from my neck and into my hair, how he turned my head a little more than I turned it on my own, the heat radiating from his body... Those were never supposed to be things I experienced with him.
He hooked up with cheerleaders he's known his whole life, not the quiet gothy girl. Nate joked with me. He made me laugh and he helped me pull off some pretty epic pranks where many people still don't know it was me behind the drama. He challenged me and he's still the only person who ever got me to rise above my fears and anxiety. Well, at least the only person I didn't have to pay to accomplish that.
We ran into each other hiking one summer and a huge rainstorm came out of nowhere, keeping us from continuing. He had come from a different entry point than I had and he led me the way he came because that was where his car was. I had walked from my house. Going his way, we had to cross what amounted to a shoddy wooden rope bridge across a swollen river to get home. I couldn't do it.
My instincts were to turn back and walk the three hours home as night fell and the storm raged on rather than the twenty minutes past the bridge to get to his car. I froze as I watched it sway without anyone on it. My heart was racing and all I could see was a thousand ways the bridge broke and either I or both of us ended up in the rapids below. Most would've gotten frustrated with me, pushed me across the bridge, dragged me, or simply left me to walk home the other way. He didn't.
I was a great swimmer, but the white churning waves crashing on sharp rocks and the still darkening sky above us set a horrible tone. Nate took my hand and walked backward, talking to me as he gently urged me toward him. Any time my head tried to shift downward he would grab my jaw and keep my eyes on him.
Once we were across he grabbed my hand and said, "That was fun, let's do it again," and I considered murder for a split second as I scowled.
He defied my expectations at every turn. With other people, I could anticipate their needs and wants and I could work out their reactions long before they actually happened. I couldn't do that with him when we were alone. The thing that got to me, though, was how predictable he became when his friends were around.
Those rare moments when it was me and him with no witnesses? We could talk for hours or break out into a spontaneous game of tag or hide and seek, yes, even as teenagers. He would crack jokes with me and smile. With most people, I figured them out within a few weeks. The longer I knew him, the more of an enigma he became to me, which was a welcome change.
The warmth of his lips on mine sent my head spinning. I don't even know if I kissed him back right away because I was too busy staring at him and trying to work out why he would press his lips to mine. He pulled me closer and I tensed up.
His lips pulled back and he brushed his thumb across my cheek, rogue tears, rain, or a mix of the two I wasn't sure, but he wiped the moisture from beneath each eye before he ran his hands over my hips. With another kiss, his hands slid up my back. Then his lips found their way to my ear, "Forgive me?"
"I don't want to."
His thumbs curved under my jaw and his fingertips laced behind my head, holding my head still, "Can I earn it?" He smiled as he pressed his lips to mine again, not giving me a chance to respond.
My çankaya eve gelen escort bayan (https://dreknek.com/ankara/cankaya-escort/) hands wrapped around his forearms and I'm certain I returned that kiss as my grip on him tightened.
In another flash of lightning, he was guiding me down to the ground between an open grave and a long-since-filled one. His hands warmed my skin as they gripped me. Nate's lips grazed my jaw and I tipped my head back a little, inviting his lips to my neck. My hand held him to me as he bit my neck, evoking a soft moan from me as my fingers slid up the back of his neck and into his hair.
My cheeks flushed as his hand slid under my shirt and I drew in a deep breath but couldn't force myself to release it. His hand slid up my stomach and along my side. Some part of me thought this was him trying to make amends to me, to earn my forgiveness. But, then once the night was over and a new day dawned, we'd both pretend it never happened.
Another part of me thought it was a trick. Somewhere off to the side, his friends were recording this and he would stop after undressing me. Then he'd start belittling me and making fun of me while they recorded it. My stomach tensed at the thought and I looked around us, but only saw faintly illuminated darkness.
His teeth dragged along the side of my neck and one hand slid beneath my bra, his palm caressing the swell of my breast. His breath became heavy near my ear as another flash of lightning illuminated the scene and I caught a glimpse of him.
He appeared lost in his actions. His eyes partially opened, his lips tipped in a faint smile and his gaze locked on my face. I was certain the only time he could see more than a faint grayed-out shading of my body was when the lightning flashed and the sky brightened for a moment.
I bit my lower lip and finally released that breath I held. My hand lay on the back of his neck, caressing him as he closed his lips against the sensitive spot he'd found in the curve of my neck and shoulder. His hand groped my breast, my nipple firmed as his fingers slid up and over it. My eyes closed and a moan escaped me, causing him to smile and bring his lips beside my ear, "Do you forgive me yet?"
My voice quavered, "No," a breathy release as he kissed my jaw in front of my ear.
The rain didn't feel as cold as it had, it felt like my body temperature might be causing it to evaporate as soon as it hit my skin, though I knew that wasn't the case. It was simply the illusion of the building lust between us. Nate lifted my shirt, exposing my bra but didn't move to take either off. His lips connected with the skin above the lace which secured my breast from his view, though one of his hands had part of the lace covering lifted and one breast gripped in his palm with ease.
My hand was on his cheek as he lifted his head, lightning flashed in the distance and the red smear of rust-toned mud from my hand along his skin made my heart skip a beat. His thumb stroked along my lower lip, pressing the tip of it between my lips in a slight gesture that sent me reeling with desire. I believe he knew he was doing exactly what I wanted as my hands rubbed over the backs of his and he dared to smile at me in another burst of bright light
Didn't he know I was mad at him? Why'd he have to be so fucking appealing when I was trying to be mad at him?
His lips came down on mine again and I moaned, parting them for him and accepting the way his hand held my head to the side so he could kiss me harder. As his kiss deepened, his other hand slid down my body, unfastened my jeans, and attempted to pull them down with one hand, but failed.
He managed to get them down an inch or two at most. A moan of his own sounded between us as he slid his hand into my panties as my hand slid up his inner thigh. I gasped and spread my legs as he caressed the slit beneath his fingertips while deepening the connection between our lips, letting his tongue press to mine before withdrawing and encouraging me to chase him if I wanted more.
I definitely wanted more and I think he knew as his fingertips slipped against me with ease courtesy of the ample lubrication he found waiting for him. My own hand found purchase on something responsive beneath the fabric of his jeans as I began a stroking grip.
Nothing felt real.
The rain was cold but his touch was fire. His lips pulled away from mine and my eyes remained closed, "Oh, God," I whispered as my hips lifted and moved toward the tender motions of his calloused fingers.
He chuckled and the bridge of his nose pressed against my cheek as he kissed beneath my jaw and whispered, "Just me, Mandy." Or maybe he said, "Trust me, Mandy." I'm not sure, I became preoccupied with the little fire building within me as his fingers made the fucking gentlest and lightest teasing circles around my slicked and throbbing clit.
The rain pounded around us and his fingertips slid down then curved into me as his thumb continued to rub around the sensitive area. My whimpers felt like they were echoing and his grip on me tightened as his kiss became more forceful. The rain was distracting, making it difficult to focus on him and, as I caught a glimpse of him wiping the moisture from his face, only to smear more mud across himself, I thought it might be the same for him.
To look up at a dark and angry sky that is pelting you with tiny cold daggers that drench your hair and clothes as lightning illuminates the silhouettes of the people walking away from you is unnerving.
"Six-feet deep" is not a rule or designation among cemeteries. The average grave can range from four to twelve feet, depending on a few different factors. City and state laws vary greatly, for example. Whether the plot is a single burial site or a "stacked" plot that can hold multiple caskets can also affect the depth a grave is dug.
I found myself at the bottom of one that went well above my 5' 10" frame. Eight? Nine feet deep, I would guess? I could jump and grasp the very edge of the grave but the clay-laden dirt just crumbled away with my weight when I tried to pull myself up. A double plot, maybe?
The beginning stages of metal rigging sat in the "head" part of the grave. There had been a tarp covering the entire grave shortly before, but the wind lifted it and kept it flapping above ground. Stakes still secured it into the ground near where the headstone would be, but it did nothing to protect the hole from the downpour I faced. I had to wonder if the gravediggers would be back after the storm to assess the damage to the impending burial site I found myself in.
Or at least a burial had been impending. With the storm, it could be days before anyone made it back out to finish the rigging. Which meant it could be days before anyone even knew I was down there.
The funeral would likely get postponed for a few days so the grieving family didn't have to contend with the truth of water seeping into many caskets once they're out of sight, increasing the rate of decomposition for their dearly departed. I eyed the materials in the grave with me. I might be able to get one of the poles up above ground and use it to pull myself up.
I could maybe... Lightning flashed somewhere nearby, the brilliance of it was blinding and made the ground vibrate. I quickly backed away from the metal poles of unknown conductive capability. I think all metal can carry some sort of charge from electricity, but some pack a bigger punch than others and I didn't want to find out which kind those poles were when the source alone could kill me.
With the rainwater collecting around my feet, I wondered how deep it would get and how cold it would be. It was early spring, so it was cool out but I doubted it was cool enough to cause hypothermia, but the rain and the ground around me felt awfully cold as I sat in the corner, away from the metal at the other end of the grave as lightning flashed somewhere above ground and the cracking sound of a nearby tree limb falling sent a chill down my spine.
How much water can carry a current? How far can ground current travel? Does it go down or just across? Does metal attract lightning? Would it be murder or an act of god? Pfft, in that town, a "witch" dying would probably get the killers a fucking parade.
Could lightning strike the frame and arc through the water to get at me? Was I going to get electrocuted in the bottom of a stranger's grave? Would I drown first? Could the water get high enough for me to drown?
I was an anxious person, so my brain didn't stop with the questions and I had no way to gauge how long I actually sat in that open grave alone with that jerk. I know the water went from barely coating the slick clay to cascading up my ankles when I stood and paced to try and quiet the disasters going through my head.
The following lightning flash was too bright, illuminating everything above me. I couldn't get my feet out of the water without risking destroying any chance I had of using the slick side walls to climb out. I tried to fashion handholds by digging into the mud at intervals for my hands and feet to climb up, but it didn't work. My hands were slipping on the clay even as it crumbled, refusing to allow me to lift myself. My attempts only resulted in chunks of clay falling into the water at my feet.
I envisioned the water seeping into the clay dirt, making the entire area unstable before eventually crashing in around the metal frame and burying me if I kept trying to climb out on my own.
I'd seen a survival thing before about lifting your shirt with your hands and creating a sort of bubble around your head so you don't breathe in dirt and you might have a fighting chance to claw your way to the surface. Would that work in dirt that was mostly clay? Or would it crush me and make it impossible to claw through?
Why was my brain like that? All negative, all disasters. Nothing positive. It calculated and tried to predict the worst outcomes so I could prepare and work around the risks. I had to predict how people around me would react to anything I did before I did it. Anything else was too risky, too likely to end in me getting hurt.
No one else ankara eryaman escort (https://dreknek.com/ankara/eryaman-escort/) protected me so I had to protect myself. This often meant I made really dumb, rash decisions in the heat of the moment as I weighed out the repercussions of whatever choices lay before me.
There was no turning it off, it was a constant thing I had to contend with. As I sat in that grave, I began to cry because I once again found myself in a situation where I couldn't protect myself. There was no out on my own and I was going to end up a burden to someone, either when they found my body or when they had to help me out. The thoughts began to overwhelm me and I pictured my death in dozens of different ways.
Would anyone actually miss me?
I stood and paced again. The water was over my ankles and beginning to hit the bottom of my calves. I could pace and cry at the same time. Pacing and picturing my bloated and water-logged corpse floating in two inches of water by the time they found me was just an average day for me.
There were no roots to grab onto. Even if I did grab the metal and try to climb up, slimy mud coated my hands. I didn't even have shoes on, so my feet squished into the mud beneath them. I contemplated pulling my shirt off to use it for leverage to climb the pipe Mulan-style. Wet cloth is stronger, right? How deep into the ground was the pipe?
I was so caught up in my disastrous thoughts that I didn't exactly hear the deep voice above and behind me, "Mandy!"
Well, I heard it but I thought I'd just imagined it.
"Amanda!" He called out again, raising his voice over the pounding rain and finally getting me to look up.
Biting my thumbnail, I lifted my reddened eyes to him and shivered before glancing away and hoping he couldn't tell I'd been crying. My voice cracked as I tried to compose myself and yelled, "Are they watching you?"
"No. Come over here."
Walking toward him, and sloshing through the heavy rains, sent a chill through me. I didn't expect him to come back. Of all the scenarios that went through my head, him leaving his friends to come back and get me from their cruel prank wasn't one that came to mind. He reached down to me and grasped my wrists and I grasped his as I pressed my feet against the mud wall. He pulled and leaned back, trying to counter my pulling on him as I tried to climb up.
The grave wasn't as deep as I thought. Fear skewed my perspective, so maybe it was closer to seven feet than nine. Our first attempt to pull me out failed. Between the rain and the mud coating our hands, I made it a few inches up the wall before I slipped from his grip and landed with a splash, back into the cold water at the bottom of the open grave. He sighed and sat up then looked around for a moment before lightning flashed and he left my field of view.
"Nate?" My voice rose in fear of him leaving me alone again.
He came back over with a large limb from a tree. Probably the one I'd heard crack following a lightning strike toward the start of my solitude in the grave. He lowered the limb down to me and, with him straining to hold it, pulled it up as I climbed it.
I'm not sure what he expected when I landed on my hands and knees at the side of the grave. I was shaking, partly from the pelting cold rain still hammering me and partly from the fear of all the dark places my mind went while I was down there. But, he grabbed my wrists and pulled me up to my trembling feet and I hit him.
My palms connected with his chest, knocking him to his ass with a thud as he released his breath and stared at me. My fists clenched at my side again and my nostrils flared as I stared him down, "You left me!" My voice rose in a furious yell as it cracked with my poorly masked fear.
"I had to," he responded as he pulled himself back to his feet.
"You had to? You couldn't tell your friends to leave me alone? To just leave and let me be?"
A sigh got lost in the roaring air between us and he moved closer, "I'm not in control of them, Mandy. You know exactly what would've happened if I tried to make them stop. Then where would we be?"
I hated it when he was reasonable and right.
What would've happened is escalation. Dropping me into a grave wouldn't have been enough. The likely next step, if Nate had intervened, would've been taking my clothes while one of them held a gun on me. Most likely a shotgun or rifle, very few actually carried a handgun and I didn't think Nate would've let them use his. After that, the risks became physical for both of us. They were his friends, but they also cared more about their reputation than any friendship and I had a nasty habit of pissing them off.
As my fears died down tears mixed with the rain on my face and my lower lip became pouty. His gaze averted from me and he wiped the rain from his own face, pushing his hair back in the process. My arms crossed over my chest defensively and he reignited that spark of anger in me as he smiled.
I escort sınırsız çankaya (https://dreknek.com/ankara/cankaya-escort/) huffed and he pulled me into a tight hug while I lifted my hands to push him away. His hand ran down my back in a soothing gesture and my fury rose. He trapped my arms between us as his hug tightened and his deep voice softened, "I'm sorry it took me so long to get back here."
Lightning flashed nearby and he was all that was holding me up as I leaned into him and sobbed against his shoulder. God, how I hated crying. Especially in front of people.
His hand caressed the back of my head and he soothed me as he tightened his grip, "I've got you."
I sniffled and what little light had flooded the area from nearby houses and street lamps flickered with another bright flash of lightning followed by a roar of thunder that made us both jump.
His hand cradled my chin and lifted it until I was looking into his eyes. Nate wiped the rain from my face, pushed my wet hair behind my ears then leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to mine. The headlights from his car kept us from blinding darkness, but we couldn't exactly see each other with clarity, either.
We had flirted before, joked and bullshitted with teasing from time to time when we caught each other out by ourselves, usually on a hike, but there had never been a moment between us that crossed into physical like that. Gentle punches to the shoulder, holding hands, yeah, but a kiss or even anything near one? Not before that night. His lips were much softer than I anticipated. Fuller than they appeared, as well.
The way his hands lifted from my neck and into my hair, how he turned my head a little more than I turned it on my own, the heat radiating from his body... Those were never supposed to be things I experienced with him.
He hooked up with cheerleaders he's known his whole life, not the quiet gothy girl. Nate joked with me. He made me laugh and he helped me pull off some pretty epic pranks where many people still don't know it was me behind the drama. He challenged me and he's still the only person who ever got me to rise above my fears and anxiety. Well, at least the only person I didn't have to pay to accomplish that.
We ran into each other hiking one summer and a huge rainstorm came out of nowhere, keeping us from continuing. He had come from a different entry point than I had and he led me the way he came because that was where his car was. I had walked from my house. Going his way, we had to cross what amounted to a shoddy wooden rope bridge across a swollen river to get home. I couldn't do it.
My instincts were to turn back and walk the three hours home as night fell and the storm raged on rather than the twenty minutes past the bridge to get to his car. I froze as I watched it sway without anyone on it. My heart was racing and all I could see was a thousand ways the bridge broke and either I or both of us ended up in the rapids below. Most would've gotten frustrated with me, pushed me across the bridge, dragged me, or simply left me to walk home the other way. He didn't.
I was a great swimmer, but the white churning waves crashing on sharp rocks and the still darkening sky above us set a horrible tone. Nate took my hand and walked backward, talking to me as he gently urged me toward him. Any time my head tried to shift downward he would grab my jaw and keep my eyes on him.
Once we were across he grabbed my hand and said, "That was fun, let's do it again," and I considered murder for a split second as I scowled.
He defied my expectations at every turn. With other people, I could anticipate their needs and wants and I could work out their reactions long before they actually happened. I couldn't do that with him when we were alone. The thing that got to me, though, was how predictable he became when his friends were around.
Those rare moments when it was me and him with no witnesses? We could talk for hours or break out into a spontaneous game of tag or hide and seek, yes, even as teenagers. He would crack jokes with me and smile. With most people, I figured them out within a few weeks. The longer I knew him, the more of an enigma he became to me, which was a welcome change.
The warmth of his lips on mine sent my head spinning. I don't even know if I kissed him back right away because I was too busy staring at him and trying to work out why he would press his lips to mine. He pulled me closer and I tensed up.
His lips pulled back and he brushed his thumb across my cheek, rogue tears, rain, or a mix of the two I wasn't sure, but he wiped the moisture from beneath each eye before he ran his hands over my hips. With another kiss, his hands slid up my back. Then his lips found their way to my ear, "Forgive me?"
"I don't want to."
His thumbs curved under my jaw and his fingertips laced behind my head, holding my head still, "Can I earn it?" He smiled as he pressed his lips to mine again, not giving me a chance to respond.
My çankaya eve gelen escort bayan (https://dreknek.com/ankara/cankaya-escort/) hands wrapped around his forearms and I'm certain I returned that kiss as my grip on him tightened.
In another flash of lightning, he was guiding me down to the ground between an open grave and a long-since-filled one. His hands warmed my skin as they gripped me. Nate's lips grazed my jaw and I tipped my head back a little, inviting his lips to my neck. My hand held him to me as he bit my neck, evoking a soft moan from me as my fingers slid up the back of his neck and into his hair.
My cheeks flushed as his hand slid under my shirt and I drew in a deep breath but couldn't force myself to release it. His hand slid up my stomach and along my side. Some part of me thought this was him trying to make amends to me, to earn my forgiveness. But, then once the night was over and a new day dawned, we'd both pretend it never happened.
Another part of me thought it was a trick. Somewhere off to the side, his friends were recording this and he would stop after undressing me. Then he'd start belittling me and making fun of me while they recorded it. My stomach tensed at the thought and I looked around us, but only saw faintly illuminated darkness.
His teeth dragged along the side of my neck and one hand slid beneath my bra, his palm caressing the swell of my breast. His breath became heavy near my ear as another flash of lightning illuminated the scene and I caught a glimpse of him.
He appeared lost in his actions. His eyes partially opened, his lips tipped in a faint smile and his gaze locked on my face. I was certain the only time he could see more than a faint grayed-out shading of my body was when the lightning flashed and the sky brightened for a moment.
I bit my lower lip and finally released that breath I held. My hand lay on the back of his neck, caressing him as he closed his lips against the sensitive spot he'd found in the curve of my neck and shoulder. His hand groped my breast, my nipple firmed as his fingers slid up and over it. My eyes closed and a moan escaped me, causing him to smile and bring his lips beside my ear, "Do you forgive me yet?"
My voice quavered, "No," a breathy release as he kissed my jaw in front of my ear.
The rain didn't feel as cold as it had, it felt like my body temperature might be causing it to evaporate as soon as it hit my skin, though I knew that wasn't the case. It was simply the illusion of the building lust between us. Nate lifted my shirt, exposing my bra but didn't move to take either off. His lips connected with the skin above the lace which secured my breast from his view, though one of his hands had part of the lace covering lifted and one breast gripped in his palm with ease.
My hand was on his cheek as he lifted his head, lightning flashed in the distance and the red smear of rust-toned mud from my hand along his skin made my heart skip a beat. His thumb stroked along my lower lip, pressing the tip of it between my lips in a slight gesture that sent me reeling with desire. I believe he knew he was doing exactly what I wanted as my hands rubbed over the backs of his and he dared to smile at me in another burst of bright light
Didn't he know I was mad at him? Why'd he have to be so fucking appealing when I was trying to be mad at him?
His lips came down on mine again and I moaned, parting them for him and accepting the way his hand held my head to the side so he could kiss me harder. As his kiss deepened, his other hand slid down my body, unfastened my jeans, and attempted to pull them down with one hand, but failed.
He managed to get them down an inch or two at most. A moan of his own sounded between us as he slid his hand into my panties as my hand slid up his inner thigh. I gasped and spread my legs as he caressed the slit beneath his fingertips while deepening the connection between our lips, letting his tongue press to mine before withdrawing and encouraging me to chase him if I wanted more.
I definitely wanted more and I think he knew as his fingertips slipped against me with ease courtesy of the ample lubrication he found waiting for him. My own hand found purchase on something responsive beneath the fabric of his jeans as I began a stroking grip.
Nothing felt real.
The rain was cold but his touch was fire. His lips pulled away from mine and my eyes remained closed, "Oh, God," I whispered as my hips lifted and moved toward the tender motions of his calloused fingers.
He chuckled and the bridge of his nose pressed against my cheek as he kissed beneath my jaw and whispered, "Just me, Mandy." Or maybe he said, "Trust me, Mandy." I'm not sure, I became preoccupied with the little fire building within me as his fingers made the fucking gentlest and lightest teasing circles around my slicked and throbbing clit.
The rain pounded around us and his fingertips slid down then curved into me as his thumb continued to rub around the sensitive area. My whimpers felt like they were echoing and his grip on me tightened as his kiss became more forceful. The rain was distracting, making it difficult to focus on him and, as I caught a glimpse of him wiping the moisture from his face, only to smear more mud across himself, I thought it might be the same for him.