martedì 7 febbraio 2012

Hide and seek

It always used to happen in the summer during school holidays. Days were long and in the evenings the temperature was pleasant. After sunset the field was clear. That period between seven and nine, before dinner when the kids came out and dads are not back home yet. It happened that we would agree on a game. At fourteen, fifteen years, the favourite was hide and seek. We all knew why, but it was a legitimate excuse for hiding and pretend to be playing. The field was a series of blocks of flats within a large garden with its shrubs, entrances, stairs, elevators and stairwells. Those who were doing the seeking had a lot to do. So one evening I find myself pressed against a girl I fancied, who often used to stare at me, at the bottom of a dark stairwell giving access to the boiler room.
We made sure not to hide all in one place. So every odd lad was directed elsewhere. I stood in front to hide her gallantly and pushing her against the door, looking for a contact. Her arms encircle me and her hands are on my belly stroking gently up and down. The t shirt gets up and she touches my skin continuing the stRoking movement. She likes this crush, I think. I turn around and hug her. No words. We kiss frantically. We know we have a few seconds. She puts a hand on the erection, under the pants, that was pinning her to the door and mutters no, no. I explore the entire shoulders and a round warm abottom. She pushes her crotch forward towards me still wispering: no, no but never stopping the swinging movement of her hips. I pull down the zipper, my erection goes down with force and locks between her crotch. Her skirt had risen as if by magic. I put my cock under the gusset. I was going crazy and she too. Her pants firmly in place, but for me it was enough not daring to push my luck. I make a few instinctive coital pushes. Shortly after, she trembles and gasps moanig, I enjoy the warmth of her skin. I come in spurts. She pauses a second, surprised. She is all wet. Quick!. She wipes herself as best as she can with my hankie and lowers her skirt, slips away and disappears.
I was found, but alone. The game ends. We all come gather in the middle of the garden. Someone asks about her and I say vaguely that "I think she’s been called home."
I also go home with my head buzzing. I go the bathroom and clean up. I try not to show the glow of red cheeks followed by the inquisitive questioning of my mother.

I had enjoyed it. Lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I kept wondering what was it like to go beyond that point, while an erection was beginning to push up again.

First issued in October 2011

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