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March 2nd (Romance/Erotica)

A warm breeze flowed through the field, it was a perfect summer night.

He tried his best to keep himself from smiling like an idiot, but it proved to no avail: he couldn't help the wide grin on his face. He felt a gentle nudge and a delicate hand feel his arm from the shoulder to the elbow; he surpressed a shudder and sighed instead. She was beautiful.

Her face seemed to be constructed by angels: a small, button nose; lustrous green eyes, full but tender lips, a piercing smile, almost clear complexion save for the freckles on her face, and her hair was wavy and as soft as cotton; her body was slim and fit, a modest bust and round hips; her arms and legs were muscular and moderely long, but not overly so: She was gorgeous.

He, on the other hand, was not. He was an awkward boy: with long, lanky and weak arms and legs, a face with noticeable but not offputting feature-like the sporadic pimples that graced his face or the roman nose which protruded from it; dull, brown eyes and hair; and ignorable lips; also, he wasn't the most socially radiant of people-unlike her: He was nothing special.

Yet, it was the kind of romance that people don't believe exist, the kind of love that only comes true in movies or stories; the kind of love he was blessed to have found but couldn't really have explained how he attained it.

He remembered meeting her long ago when they were little, even then she was much more of a treat to the eye than he was-adorable and full of joviality-and only speaking with her on random occasions: a funeral, a meeting at school, a dance before it started. Every time, the talking was minimal; the themes irrelevant; and the emotion, nonexistent.

Something had stuck. For some reason, she had slowly taken a liking to him-something along the lines of hidden appeal and secret charm, she claimed. He was, as she said: funny, neurotic in a good way, awkward in a cute way, spontaneous and random, brave, and so much more things. He had always suspected that she stopped listing things because she ran out of good things to say.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and neck and kissed his cheek as she caressed his arms. She whispered: "Hey". He couldn't help but smiling. He kissed her luscious lips and replied: "Hey, you." She smiled back. Her face rested on his shoulder and her eyes stared out into the horizon, staring at night and stars. "I love you", she whispered as her hands began to wrap around his waist. His heart skipped a beat; "I love you too", he replied.

The air grew quiet and the silence became...blissful. He had nothing to say, yet felt like he needed nothing to say. He reached out his arm behind him and squeezed; she let out a yelp and a giggle. She got off his back and dragged him down with her; "Hey, that tickles!", she said as she laughed and smiled. He fell down next to her and did it again: "I know, and your reaction is so worth it."

They both smiled and tickled each other for a while; the occasional giggles, laughs, yelps, and tears being let out. When they finally stopped, they both sighed contentedly. She moved herself toward him and held him around his waist as she buried her head in his chest. He kissed her head and stroked her cheek. "You're so fucking beautiful", he whispered to her; she laughed. "Thanks. You're fucking hot", she said and winked. They began to kiss. His lips probably weren't as enjoyable as her's were; they were full of moisture and he hungered for them.

He kissed her hungrily, with his hands either holding her head or caressing her breasts; the moment was amazing. Something surprised him though, she expressed the same hunger for him. She eagerly kissed him, leaving little time to breathe in and out; every time either of those happened, it let out a gasp: every time she did it, the gasp was sensuous and erotic.

Her hands moved lower and lower; first at his waist, then to his butt-something he felt he didn't have, but she always argued against it and he felt he did not have the right to argue with that. As he finally only focused on her tender, ripe nipples and breasts, she let out a moan: her head went passed his neck and her hands clawed his back, the pain made him feel ecstatic.

He kissed her neck, not slowing the progression, he continued his motion. Her body shivered in pleasure. He was somewhat afraid of what this could lead to. Certainly, he wanted to be her first, and he desperately wanted her to be his; yet, millions of fears began to spring in his mind: what if he wasn't big enough? Too big? Doesn't last enough? Lasts too long? What if he's awkward? What if he's too good? What if...his mind couldn't stop.

He wasn't focused on what he was doing anymore, and when he finally came back to it, he saw that she had moved her hands unto his to help him with the rubbing of her ripe nipples and tender breasts. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open; her breathing wavering but consistent: could he really be that good at this? She shuddered and hugged him tight, ending the act. "Thank you", she whispered. He felt somewhat disappointed, "For?" "This." He looked down and noticed her legs were spread and her underwear soaked.

"Wow...I did that?", he earnestly wondered. She kissed him fervidly and smiled as she moved his hand toward her cleft: "Yeah...yeah, you did that", she said it with a smile on her face and a lengthy sigh. He rubbed her and penetrated it with his fingers, careful to be gentle but rough at the same time. He paused in his train of thought: how did he know this?

She began to shudder and gasp again, her mouth and eyes resuming the same positions as before. Her hand reached out and grabbed the bulge between his legs; he gasped. She had never done this before. She began to stroke it, an upward clench and downward release; this time he began to shudder. He couldn't believe his luck, he couldn't believe how happy he was, he couldn't believe such an amazing girl would want to even kiss him: let alone let him get her off and make her moan; he couldn't believe they fell in love.

He kept going, no longer caring whether tonight was the night he finally had his first time, all he wanted to do was to please her. And, it seemed, all she wanted to do was please him. Without him noticing, she had removed his belt and pulled down his pants, exposing him. How could she be so comfortable with it? She continued to stroke him as he continued to service her, both of them unable to keep themselves still.

He felt he was going to reach a climax soon. He would have worried about it, but then remembered she had already done so so early, and he closed his eyes as he lost all inhibition and just let himself go. Then it happened, he felt his fingers and hands rub empty space, and felt lips below his waist. He opened his eyes to see she had inserted it into her mouth, and began to do what he usually saw her do to popsicles.

He felt odd; "Are you okay with...with doing this?" Their eyes met and she began to do it faster: that was his answer. He couldn't control himself and began to gasp forcibly and quiveringly. He couldn't hold it in anymore, and every second got him closer and closer to his climax. He whispered: "I'm going to...soon..." It encouraged her, she began to use her hands and mouthed it more vigorously; he came. He felt it all instantly be sucked up. He shuddered one last time. "Did you...?", he asked. "Yes. I swallowed."

She smiled and leaned in for a kiss; he backed up. "I don't know if I'm comfortable kissing you anymore...", he said and he winked. "Oh, shut up", she remarked and slapped his chest. It was the perfect summer dawn.

The night was almost blinding, and the stars shone brighter than he had ever seen them. They stayed there, in that field, occasionally starting again and just rubbing each other when they weren't. She had gone for a couple minutes to wash her mouth so they could kiss again, because he was honestly not sure about whether he was okay with it. She smiled and said: "Just for you. I only do these things for you."

That was completely true, and he felt the same way. He had serviced her cleft in the same way she serviced him and she came in his mouth as well; which he also swallowed-except she was willing to kiss him afterwards, because "I'm not a baby like you are!", she had said.

They held hands and cuddled after his performance, she too tired to keep going and him too worried he'd do something she wouldn't be okay with. They kissed and embraced and tickled and caressed and did all the little things which drove him crazy and made him yearn for her even when they were right next to each other.

He couldn't help staring into her eyes when they were open, and staring at her face when they were closed. Her body began to go limp and her concentration faded; he stroked her face and kissed her lips softly: "Go to sleep, love."

She closed her eyes and cuddled up next to him, her arms and head on his chest and legs on his: "Now you won't escape." He smiled and chuckled: "I'd never leave you, silly. I love you." She smiled that piercing smile and said, before she fell asleep: "That makes two of us." The sun slowly began to rise as he gradually succumbed to sleep. It had been the perfect summer night.

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