He’s wearing nothing and all that’s protecting my virtue is my little bikini bottoms.
He kisses me more slowly now, but somehow his slow kisses are still very intense. Like he’s tasting me. His lips feel like fire on my skin. And I know only one thing is going to put out the fire burning inside me.
He kisses my shoulder, my chest, my stomach, and then slowly strips away what little clothing is left on me. With his teeth.
I can’t even tell you how hot I am.
Especially now that he’s back to a full-scale assault on my body.
He’s kissing, touching, rubbing, licking, well, everything.
Everywhere.
And it feels very, very good.
I feel like he’s standing outside my front door, knocking on it. No. Make that ringing the doorbell, repeatedly. RING. RING. RING! And I want to invite him in. I really want to. My body is definitely in agreement with me on this. My body has been pleading its case, begging, Please, please, can he please come in and play? Be our new friend and make us feel incredible? But my brain is arguing back, saying, You have only known him for a week. You want to let this virtual stranger in? Shouldn’t you be in love with him? What if you get pregnant? What if he’s just using you? What if this ruins everything?
Then my body yells at my brain and says, Shut up! Seriously, shut up! I don’t freaking care if he’s using us. I want him NOW! Freaking, right now!!!
My body wins this round. My brain shuts up for a bit and lets us feel.
He moves between my legs and, oh, gosh, what he’s doing feels pretty amazing, and pretty soon I’m trembling and breathing hard with pleasure.
And I really don’t think I can take much more.
My body is screaming, OMFFFFFGGGG! LET THIS BOY IN, NOW!
I say breathlessly, “Dawson . . .”
He stops and looks at me, tilts his head in question.
I bite my lip and give my head a little nod.
A barely perceptible teeny little yes nod.
And invite him in.
Monday, September 5th
Should I feel cheap?
Early.
Get woken up by the sun gleaming through the sheer curtains at 6:42. We didn’t get much sleep last night. Turns out my body was one hundred percent right. Dawson did need to be our friend. And he was a very fun play date. He visited more than once. And my body and my brain were both waiting for him eagerly at the door every time, saying, Welcome back! Come on in!
Like the rugs when you walk in Wal-Mart.
And speaking of Wal-Mart, should I feel cheap?
Sleazy? Stupid?
I sort of want to blame Brooklyn for this. Last time he pissed me off, I turned around and slept with Cush. But I can only blame myself.
And Dawson’s hotness. I could not resist him.
I think back to the scripts I used to write. About a boy wanting me so badly. About him ravishing my body. Throwing me on the bed. Being just a little rough and in control.
Shit.
But I suppose that’s the thing about sleeping with someone; it feels right at the time, but there are always repercussions. Repercussions that my mind couldn’t seem to come up with last night.
Like, you never know what’s gonna happen after he leaves.
Will he ever want to visit my house again?
Will he be a jerk and make me want to slam the door in his face?
Is he going to keep visiting other girls’ houses?
Will he tell all his friends about his visit?
Will my house get a bad reputation?
When we get back to school, will he start walking a block over so he can avoid my house?
We did use protection, so I shouldn’t have to worry about things like STDs and pregnancy, but what repercussions will it have on our very young relationship? Do we even have a relationship? And, if we do, what is it now? Did this change things?
Will we be closer? Will it make things awkward? Will he want me again? Did he lose all respect for me?
Shit. I really have no idea.
And I’m even more worried because he isn’t in bed with me. Did he creep out early this morning just to get away from me? Do the walk of shame out to his living room?
I get up, pee, brush my teeth, and brush through my hair. Maybe he went out surfing, and I should go join him. But then I realize that I probably, definitely screwed up by sleeping with him. Because if he wanted me out surfing, he would’ve woken me up and asked me to go with him like yesterday.
This thought depresses me, so I throw myself across the bed.
Why, oh why, did I sleep with him? And so soon?
Note to self: do not sleep with another boy until you are seriously in love.
What was I thinking?
I need to talk to someone about this. Someone who’s an expert on hookups. I know it’s the middle of the night, like three am, in Vancouver, but I text Tommy anyway.