The Space Between Us by Anie Michaels Page B

my nipple with one hand.  His other hand slid down my back and found its way just inside the waistband of my jeans.  He must have felt me tense at the thought of his hand inside my jeans because he stopped there and concentrated on the hand inside my shirt.
       He kneaded and cupped my breast all while kissing me passionately.  I felt a familiar pinching feeling between my legs; I experienced it more and more frequently with Asher.  It felt as though a rubber band was being stretched tightly inside of me, right at the juncture of my thighs, and that at any moment it could snap from all the pressure.  This time, the delicious tight and pinching feeling was accompanied by a new warmth, a hot wetness.  Part of me was embarrassed by these new things my body seemed to be doing all on its own, but most of me didn’t care at the moment and could only concentrate on Asher and his hands and mouth.
       When I finally pulled away from him, not really wanting to go home, but knowing it was getting late, Asher pulled me to his chest and held me for a moment.   This gave my body a chance to calm down and my mind a chance to sabotage me.  I started wondering how he felt about me and my body, now that he’d had a chance to feel me.  As he often did, he noticed the change in my body, my muscles tensing as my mind ran away with itself.
       “What are you thinking, Bit?”
       I shook my head slightly, still resting in the crook of his neck.
       “Talk to me.  Please.”  He sounded concerned.
       I shrugged my shoulders and I heard him exhale loudly.  He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back and away from him, trying to see my face. 
       “What is going on up there?”  He asked, now a little irritated.
       “I don’t know.  I’m just a little worried.”  That was the best I could give him.
       “Worried about what, exactly?”  It took me a few moments to build up enough courage to answer him, but I knew he wouldn’t accept my dodging any more of his questions.
       “I’m just worried that I’m not, that my body’s not, what you like.”
       “You think I don’t like your body?”
       “No,” I said exasperated.  “Yes.”  I sighed.  “I don’t know.”  I breathed in and out a few times and then looked him in the eyes.  “I think you enjoyed that, I mean, I could, uh, feel you enjoying it.  But I’m not stupid enough to think that any sixteen-year-old guy wouldn’t enjoy feeling a girl up.  I guess I am just worried that I’m not what you want.”
       “What do you think I want?  I’m here with you, Bit.  Why would I want to be anywhere else?”
       I shrugged. 
       “I don’t know.  Maybe y ou like girls with bigger boobs or girls who have bigger butts.  How will I ever know if every time you put your hand up my shirt that you’re not wishing I had a little more, uh, boobage?”
       “Boobage?”  He asked, chuckling.
       “Don’t laugh, Asher!  This is serious.  You didn’t say one word while your hand was up there.  That left a lot of room for interpretation.”
       “I didn’t say anything because my brain was malfunctioning.  I was living the dream I’d been having for months, maybe years, when my girlfriend let me get to second base.”
       “Well, a little positive reinforcement would have been appreciated.  I was practically moaning and grinding on your lap and you gave no indication that you enjoyed my boobage.”  I had to admit, I was being a little bit of a brat, but sometimes insecurities brought out the ugliness in me.  I was glad he smiled at my new word.  I didn’t want him angry; I really just wanted reassurance. 
       “Babe, you’re perfect.  I couldn’t imagine a girl more perfect for me.  And as for your boobage and granting me the supreme privilege of rounding the next base in our relationship, well, I really really enjoyed it.  Really,” he said, bumping his forehead lightly against mine.  I