Falling Away

by Jasinda Wilder

  He swallows a huge gulp of beer and then stares down into the suds in the bottle. "The problem was...I was in love with her. I remember the day I first realized she wasn't just my best friend, but that she was a girl, you know? I was fourteen, she was...not quite twelve? Around there. And she developed early, you know what I mean? By twelve she looked fourteen easily. And were at the beach together, at my parents' lake house. We were swimming, playing some game. I don't remember what. Chasing each other, splashing, whatever. And suddenly I couldn't stop staring at her. Like, all of a sudden I realized she had these parts that I really liked looking at, right? And she was my best friend, but all the hormonal puberty stuff? It was all focused on her. And it wasn't just hormones, though, you know? I knew her better than anyone. I knew how talented she was and how cool and just awesome she was. I just...fell head over heels for her."

  "Sounds like that was inevitable, though," I remark.

  He shrugs and nods. "Yeah, maybe. But I realized that she was only eleven or twelve, and I couldn't...say or do anything. Obviously."

  I grin at him. "But you jerked off thinking about her, didn't you?"

  He blushes furiously and starts peeling the label off his beer. "Yeah, I did."

  I can't help laughing. "I'm just teasing you, Ben. You're fucking adorable when you blush."

  He pins me with a glower. "Yeah, well, I can't help it. So, yeah, I jerked off thinking about her. I was a fourteen-year-old kid, so pretty much anything got me going. But Kylie was it, man. She was all I thought about. All my buddies started trying to get girls to go out with them and tried to cop a feel and whatever, and they bragged about getting to second base or whatever, but I didn't get into anything like that. I was waiting for Kylie."

  I start to sense the shape of the story. "Oh. Shit."

  He nods. "Yeah. I waited, and I waited. She turned fourteen, and then fifteen, and I'd never even had a girlfriend, and she'd never shown any interest in other guys, thank god, but I just couldn't figure out how to...how to broach the issue. How to tell her, out of the blue, that I'd been in love with her since she was fucking eleven.

  "I mean, how do you start that conversation? I tried so many times. We'd be sitting on her porch talking and doing homework, or watching TV, or driving around in my car, and I'd be thinking about what I'd say, and I'd even open my mouth, but I couldn't get the words out."

  He sighs and drains his beer, takes another. "I never could. I turned eighteen, nineteen, went to college near home and lived with my parents, and she was always right there. Never dated anyone, just never seemed interested. I thought that was a sign that we were meant to be together. So I made a plan. She'd graduate and we'd go on a road trip together. Just the two of us, the whole summer. Just go somewhere. Anywhere. And we'd...I wouldn't have to tell her. She'd just realize. And we'd get together, and I'd eventually tell her how long I'd loved her. I never said a thing. I never let on how I felt. I didn't know how, you know? We'd go to the lake and I'd have to hide how the sight of her in a bikini turned me on--especially as she got older and really filled out. I'd hide in the water and keep my distance. I kept assholes away from her. I protected her. I took care of her. Drove her to school, dropped her off, and we were always just...best friends. That was always the same."

  I finish my beer and start another. "And then..."

  He nods. "And then she met Oz." He says the name with venom, spits it. "Shit, it's hard to talk about this. I've never said any of this to anyone. Not ever, not to anyone."

  I reach out and tangle our fingers together, rest our hands on my thigh. "So what happened with Oz? And why does it sound like you hate him?"

  He sighs, closes his eyes and visibly summons the words. "I don't hate him. I just...well, part of me does, I guess. He was a new guy, showed up her senior year. He was older than her. About my age, I think. Obviously older. And he was...from the other side of the tracks, you know? Tattoos and piercings and metal shirts, big attitude, badass motorcycle. A real bad boy. I didn't like him from the first time I saw him, and...and she did. She got on his motorcycle the first time she met him, and rode off with him. And that was it. I knew it then, I knew...that was it. She had her arms around his waist and she was holding on to him like...like she wouldn't ever let go. And she had this look on her face...like...like she was happy. But in a way I'd never made her. Excited. Exhilarated." He sounds so bitter, so angry. "I got pissed. I was stupid. But I didn't trust him. He just reeked of bad boy, you know? Like I knew he did drugs, and drank and all that. Kylie was too good, too innocent and pure for a fucking hardass like him. I tried to protect her from him."

  "Uh-oh," I say. "I bet that didn't go over well."

  He laughs mirthlessly. "Yeah, no. It drove her to him all the more. It was jealousy, like mad jealousy. She was supposed to be mine. Half a year more and she would have been. But he came along, and...fucked it all up. So I was pissed off and jealous and then kind of turned into a huge dick. But it was also honest worry. He had these scars on his forearms that made me just sick with worry, like what darkness is he pulling her into? And there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do. I tried. I warned her. I tried to tell her how I felt about him, but she just...shut me down cold. Pinned me on it, you know? Pegged me as jealous. Just...she didn't realize how deep the jealousy went."

  "Because you'd never told her how you really felt," I fill in.

  "Right." He takes a couple sips and keeps going. "So I tried to move on. I could see she was happy with him. And there was nothing I could do. She was just...gone. It was too hard to be around her because they were always together, so I pulled away. Started dating chicks at the university. And...we'd fool around. I was able to bullshit my way past the fact that I'd never had a girlfriend until my sophomore year of college, which was fucking pathetic enough as it was. But...I couldn't ever get past messing around. Not because the chicks weren't willing, though. It was me. We'd mess around and whatever, but when it came time to actually sleep together, I just...couldn't. That was something that was supposed to happen with Kylie, and I couldn't get that thought out of my head. I fucking tried. I was in bed with a girl, like...right there, as close as we were to it just now. And I panicked. I jetted out of there and never saw her again. She was cool about it, though. I claimed I was sick or something stupid, and she just went with it, didn't make me feel bad, didn't tell anyone.

  "I'd also been hoping dating other girls would maybe make Kylie jealous or something, but it didn't. She didn't care. She had Oz. And fuck, I could tell Oz was good to her. They were good together, and I couldn't deny it. So it turns out that she and Oz got into an accident on his motorcycle. I got pissed and defensive, and went after him. Like, I knew this would happen, I knew he'd hurt her. We got in a fight, and...he got hit by a car. Almost died. Went into a coma and almost didn't wake up."

  "Oh my god."

  He nods. "Yeah. That's not the crazy part, though. So...I find out his name isn't actually Oz. It's Benjamin."

  "What? You guys have the same name?"

  There's an odd look in his eye as he barks a laugh. "Actually, our first and middle names are the exact same. Benjamin Aziz. My mom is half-Lebanese, and...his dad was my mom's brother. We're both named after him."

  I stare at him. "You're kidding me. He's your cousin?"

  I nod. "Yeah. None of us realized it until his mom and my mom met for the first time. It was a fucked-up story. His dad committed suicide before he was born, and his mom moved around a lot, just messed up from the whole thing. He never knew anything about him, and he and his mom just...bizarrely, coincidentally ended up in our lives. So I can't hate him, because he's a good guy, and he loves Kylie like fucking crazy. But he not only stole the girl I loved, but my best friend, too.

  "Because I just...it hurt too bad to be around them. Around her. I ended up telling her how I felt. I told her I'd loved her our whole lives, and that she was supposed to be mine. And she was...this is the part that fucking hurts the worst. She told me she'd had a crush
on me, too, when she was younger. She'd waited for me to make a move, wished I'd kiss her, and I almost had so, so many times, but always chickened out. But Kylie got sick of waiting, and didn't want to risk our friendship by making a move herself. Neither did I, you know? I was afraid. What if she didn't love me back? What if I told her I loved her or kissed her or whatever...and she rejected me? I was scared, and I lost my chance. I left home not long after that, and haven't been back since. That was over a year and a half ago."

  "Damn, Ben," I breathe. "That's fucked up."

  He laughs. "Yeah. No kidding."

  "And there's been no else?" I can't help asking.

  He shrugs. "Same deal as before I left. I drove around the country for a long time. I'd find work somewhere and hang for a while, and I'd mess around with a girl I worked with or something. But I couldn't ever bring myself to go all the way, but at that point it was more about how fucking embarrassing it is to be a twenty-two-year-old male virgin. It's pathetic, and I couldn't tell them. They were just random girls. But with you...it's different. I don't know--" He halts, glances at me, emotions boiling just under the surface. "I don't know why, why it's different with you. But it is. And now...now you know." He sets his now-empty second beer down, leaning across me to do so.

  I'm at a loss. He's a virgin. I don't even know how to process that, how I'm supposed to feel about it. In one sense, it makes me feel exactly the way he's afraid it would: a little embarrassed for him, and a little worried about having to teach him things, wait for him to figure things out. But then...so far he's always made sure I come first, and hard. He pays attention to how I'm feeling, and seems to intuitively know what I want, what I need. He's not pathetic. Anything but, really. He's hot and sexy and except for this particular thing, he's confident, a man who knows who he is.

  I glance at him, and see that he's still and silent, staring out the window, obviously in thought or maybe just waiting for me. He looks dejected, as if assuming that, because I now know his deep dark secret, I won't want him anymore.

  Understandable, but not true.

  I toss back the last of my beer and set it down beside me, slide down and roll to my side, facing him. I reach out with my hand and rest it on his thigh, keeping my eyes on his.

  He looks down at me, a flash of surprise crossing his face, quickly replaced by hope and nascent desire. "You're still here."

  I smile up at him, waiting. "Sure am."

  His eyes heat up, but he doesn't move to touch me yet. "You don't care that I'm a virgin?"

  I shrug. "It's a surprise, that's for sure, but I don't think less of you for it."

  He joins me in the horizontal, angles his body toward me. His palm touches my cheek, and he leans toward me, a smile playing across his lips. "So, you're still here, in my bed, and you're still naked."

  I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck and draw him down to me. "Naked in your bed," I murmur, lifting up to kiss him softly, "and ready to deflower you."

  He grunts a laugh. "I don't think the term 'deflower' applies to guys."

  "Ruin your innocence?" I reach between us and find him hardening again. I stroke him with a slow and gentle caress.

  He smirks and bends to kiss my clavicle, and then the slope of my right boob. "I'm not exactly innocent, as you may have noticed."

  I gasp as he covers my aching nipple with his mouth. I press his head against me with one hand and stroke his now-erect cock with the other. "True..."

  He's over me now, and I feel him between my legs. But I also feel the tension in his belly, the way he continually flexes his knee as if fighting to contain the pain of kneeling. I let him kiss me, and I guide him to my entrance with one hand, cup his ass and pull him to me, lift my hips and drive him deep, watching his face as he enters me with a slow deep drive.

  I can't help a whimper from escaping me as he pierces me, because he's huge and hard and fills me like I've never been filled, he stretches me to a pleasant aching burn, and I wrap my legs around his waist and grind on him, bring my lips to his ear and nip at his earlobe.

  "How's it feel, Benji?" I whisper.

  "Fucking incredible," he rumbles. "You feel...I didn't know it would feel this way."

  I hold onto both hard globes of his taut ass and encourage him to move. "Fuck me, Benji," I whisper, and then bite his earlobe again and stretch it out, let it go, and nip at the skin of his neck. "Let me feel you move."

  He groans and trembles. "Not sure how--how long I'll be able to--"

  "You're close, huh?"

  He buries his face between my breasts, and his hips glide against mine, and his thick cock slides deeper until we're crushed hips-to-hips and he's shaking, tensed, growling in his throat. "Yeah. Sorry, I'm...I'm trying to--"

  I push at his shoulder. "Lie down."

  He pulls out, gasping, and moves to his back. Slowly, I move to straddle him. His dick glistens with wetness, lying hard and thick against his belly. He's breathing hard, sweating, every muscle tensed and taut as he struggles to hold back. It's impressive, actually, how much control he has, considering. I slide my ass over his belly, my palms on his chest, leaning over him. My breasts sway and drag against his flesh. He cups them, and then his hands go to my hips and he caresses my ass, the backs of my thighs.

  Reaching between us, I grip his cock and press the head to my slit, nestle him between the lips, and then slowly feed him into my channel. He groans and trembles, his fingers tightening on my hips.

  "Hold it for me, Benji," I groan, hanging my head as he pierces me. "Not yet, okay? Just...hold on."

  "Trying." His grip on my hips is almost painful. "You just feel so fucking good it's getting impossible to last much longer."

  When he's in me, I push up so I'm kneeling upright, balanced on him with one hand on his belly, the other holding my hair out of my face. I stare down at him, and our eyes lock, his dark brown gaze hot and desperate and hard with determination. I hold it there, just the tip of him inside me. I'm pretty sure I know how this is going to go, and I want to make sure we both get the most out of every second.

  But then Ben surprises me. He slides his palms up from my hips to my ribs, and then cups my breasts. "Don't move, Echo. Just...stay right there, just like that."

  One of his big hands covers my breast, rough palm scratching my nipple, and then he pinches the sensitive button and rolls it, flicks it with his thumb until I'm biting my lip and stifling a gasp. He moves his hand to the other side, and gives that nipple the same attention.

  With his other hand, he drags his fingers down my belly to my clit, feathers a soft touch over it. "Touch yourself, Echo," he tells me, his voice low and fierce. "Make yourself come."

  "I don't need to come. I already did."

  "But I want to watch you come. I need to."

  My eyes locked on his, I bring my middle and ring fingers to my clit, replacing his touch with my own. He cups my tits and toys with them. Struggling to hold still, knowing if I move too much he'll come, I start a rhythmic circling, finding the rhythm I know works best. It's a slow touch at first, but it doesn't take long before I'm gasping at the heat building inside me, and I'm fighting to keep my hips still, and then my eyes slide closed because I'm groaning.

  I feel Ben watching me, feel him tensed and frozen solid beneath me, hear his ragged breath. And then I hear and feel nothing but the detonation building inside me. "I'm--I'm there, Ben. I'm coming."

  "I feel it," he growls. "I feel you tightening. Come hard for me, Echo."

  It's a wave crashing through me, sudden and hot and powerful, making my insides clamp, lightning zapping through me, and I feel my pussy clamping down, hear a wild shriek rip out of me.

  Ben's hands clutch my hips, and I throw my head back on my neck, arch my spine, palms flat on his belly, and I sink down on him. He pulls me down as I impale myself on him, hard, and I scream as he thrusts up. My climax shatters through me harder yet and he's growling and cursing-- "Oh fuck, Echo, fuck, you feel so good..." --and I feel hi
m throbbing inside me as he prepares to unleash his own orgasm.

  I fall forward as my climax wrings through me, unable to stay balanced upright any longer, and now I clash my mouth over his and taste blood as my teeth bash into his lips, but he doesn't protest, only kisses me harder and his hands clutch my ass in a kneading vise-grip and pulls me onto him, and now I'm writhing, lifting up and forward and crashing down, fucking him desperately.

  And then he's gone, two thrusts and done, and I feel his come spurt hot and wet inside me and I stroke onto him even faster and harder, milking it out of him. Another thick gush fills me and he's groaning wordlessly, thrusting with a stuttering rhythm, and I'm still coming too, whispering breathlessly "Fuck, fuck, oh my fucking god, Ben!"

  His hips glide and flutter and pulse, and his cock throbs inside me, and I'm shaking with the aftershocks, unable to stop moving on him as each thrust makes me shudder and curse.

  Finally, eventually, I can't move anymore, can only collapse onto him, bury my face in his neck, tasting sweat on his skin. His palms skate over my shoulders and back and spine and ass and thighs, my ribs and into my hair and back down, smearing my own sweat.

  "There," I mutter. "Now you're not a virgin."

  "Holy shit."

  I smile against his neck. "Was it what you thought it'd be?"

  "Nope." He shakes his head. "It was a whole fucking lot more."

  I'm still shuddering, still gasping for breath. It was a whole lot more for me too, but I don't know how to say that, because it kind of scares me, so I don't say anything. I just leave his softened dick inside me and cling to his neck and push away the thoughts and emotions roiling inside me.

  I need to say something, though. There's going to be the so how was it for you question, at some point, and that's always just awkward. So I forestall it. "That, Benji-boy, was some good fucking."