All I Need Pt. 03

"I'm just teasing, sweetheart." I replied, wrapping her in a hug and feeling a little guilty. I hadn't expected that reaction.

"I know, but I didn't mean to scratch you. Or say all that stuff. It's embarrassing." She mumbled into my chest.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed. I think it's kinda hot that I had that much of an effect on you."

"Really?" She looked up at me, unsure if she believed me.

"Seriously. It's kind of an ego boost to drive you wild like that."

"If you knew what kind of effect you had on me, your ego wouldn't fit in the room. And you're such a jackass as it is, can't have you getting cocky on top of it." She smiled.

"If I'm such a jackass, why do you love me so much?"

"I have terrible taste in men."

"Ouch." I replied as I swept her towel clad body up in my arms again and carried her back to my room. She helped me remake the bed with minimal difficulty aside from what was brought on by me popping her on the ass with my towel. That started a slight skirmish that lasted a few minutes before we got back to the task at hand. As soon as the bed was made, I was climbed back in and took her in my arms.

"Can it be like this for us all the time one day?" She asked, lovingly stroking my cheek with her hand.

"I certainly hope so." I pulled her to me in a deep, passionate kiss. It was clear by now that I was forgiven for my towel popping incident.

Amy was smiling again when I paused to look at her beautiful face. Her smile made me smile until I caught myself and became self conscious about it.

"This has been such an awesome day," she said quietly, "We went on our first date, we finally had sex, and now we can finally spend the entire night together."

"It really has been."

She rolled away from me on her side and drew her knees up. I propped myself up on one elbow, turned toward her, and stroked my other hand slowly down the length of her from shoulder to hip. It had been obvious that she wanted me to spoon her, but she didn't complain when I elected to stroke her body instead. I let my hand wander over her, sometimes just petting her body, others rubbing it harder in almost a massage motion. With her knees drawn up as they were, her ass took on almost an inverted heart shape from the angle I was laying. I ran my hand over one of those magnificent curves, my fingertips grazing the underside of her slit and then her rosebud as I drew my hand back up toward her back. She didn't say anything, but there was a perceptible change in her breathing for a moment.

I moved my body up behind hers, giving her the spoon she had originally wanted and began kissing her neck as my arm wrapped around her small frame. Part of my brain still marveled that I was curled up naked in bed with such a beautiful girl. She pulled my hand up and cupped it over the soft globe of her naked breast. Her nipple hardened against my touch as I gave her breast a gentle squeeze. A soft moan escaped her lips and she arched her neck a little toward my mouth. My prick, having taken notice, rose to the occasion and bumped her ass crack. She backed her ass up against me, trapping it between her ass cheeks in response. I groaned a little in appreciation and pushed forward so that my cock slid along her crack in a short stroke. That got a definite gasp out of her. I pulled my hips away from her to repeat the thrust and she moved her ass back toward me in protest. When I moved forward again, I felt myself sliding deeper between her cheeks than before as my shaft glided through her. She clenched her ass, her wonderful ass gripping my cock in place behind her. I let out a low groan and squeezed her breast, renewing my kisses to her neck. She was really gasping by now.

"You really do... uhnnn... love my ass, don't you?" She groaned.

"I love every part of you, baby." I replied, as she released her grip enough to allow me to continue grinding against her.

"Yeah, but you've always... oooohh... loved my ass. For years."

"It is a magnificent ass. I couldn't help stealing a look sometimes." I admitted.

"I didn't mind." She said as she gave me another clench with her cheeks. "And I certainly don't mind now."

"It's a good thing, because if you haven't noticed... I can't keep my eyes off of you these days." I whispered in her ear just before I nibbled lightly on her earlobe.

"I like your eyes on me." Amy replied, wrapping her arm up over her shoulder to hold my head close to hers. "I love your eyes on me. Your hands on me. Your lips... uhnnnn... on me. Your tongue on me. Your cock on me. In me."

I pulled my hips away from her enough to slip my cock under her ass, moving forward again after so that it slid along her soft folds. She brought her knees up slightly higher and angled her ass back just enough for me to slide into her from behind.

"Oh yessss" She hissed as her hot pussy swallowed my entire length.

I rocked forward into her, sliding my free arm under her torso to be able to cup each of her tits in my hands. My lips planted kisses along her neck and jaw, while she moaned softly with each stroke.

"You feel so good, Amy." I crooned in her ear, "I love being inside you."

She smiled in reply, trying to mold her body against mine for maximum contact as we found our rhythm with each other. We made love to each other this time, unlike the urgent frenzy of fucking that had overtaken us earlier. Our hands explored each other more carefully, paying attention to how our bodies responded and learning each others favorite places to touch and be touched. We changed positions to me lying on my back while she straddled me. I loved watching her tits sway hypnotically above me while she rocked her hips back and forth over mine. She responded eagerly to my touch when my hands reached up to cup them. When her orgasm hit her, she arched her back away from me, thrusting her breasts harder into my palms. Her thighs quivered over mine, clenching me against her as tight as she could. She let out a long, shuddering gasp that sent me over the edge into my own climax, my cock releasing it's payload deep into her convulsing depths.

Amy collapsed contentedly against me. She reached up and grazed her fingers along my jaw.

"We are so good together." She sighed.

I was almost asleep when she slipped out of bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom. When she returned, she cleaned me with a washcloth that she dropped beside the bed and climbed back in with me. She spooned herself back against me, snuggling up as close as she could and I wrapped my arm around her. Her hand clutched mine between her breasts.

"Can we sleep this way?" I heard her whisper softly.

"Anytime you want." I replied, my eyes closed but my nostrils taking in the smell of her hair again.

"That means every night." Her hand gave mine a squeeze and she lifted it up to kiss it.

"Well... Anytime we can get away with it, at least." Our less than ideal circumstances popped back into my half-asleep mind. Amy didn't respond. My mind drifted off toward sleep when she brought me back from it one last time softly saying my name.

"Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"No nightmares this time, okay?" Her body shook a tiny bit with her chuckle.

"No nightmares." I nuzzled her neck a moment and was asleep the next.

When I awoke the next morning, she was still fully nude and asleep in my arms. I stared, not moving, at the back of her head, the curve of her neck, the one exposed shoulder that was not under the bed sheets covering us. I found my mind wandering as I gazed at her. I thought about the little girl that I'd walked with down to the creek behind our home as a child and taught about the different types of animals that we'd see there. I thought about the little girl that would come home from elementary school with coloring books for me that she had bought at the book fairs with her own money because she thought I would like them. I thought about the girl, barely a teenager, who followed me to the skate park the first few times I went, thinking that I had not seen her trailing behind. I thought about how that teenage girl came running from her hiding spot when I misjudged a turn and launched myself into the air on a half pipe, knocking the wind out of myself when I landed on the bottom of the pipe. I thought about the cheerleader in high school who would go out and give it her all on the football field. I would watch her from the corner of my eye despite having no interest in the sport, whatsoever, content to drink whiskey John had stolen from his dad's liquor cabinet and secretly brought to the game instead. I thought of the beautiful young woman that the little girl from my memories had grown into. And I smiled because she now lying in my bed, sleeping peacefully next to me.

* * *

The Fall semester started at college and life became busy again for both of us. My classes were mostly in the fine arts building, while the majority of Amy's were in the business building on the far end of campus. It meant we wouldn't see each other as much on campus as we would have liked, but that was probably for the best if we had any hope of keeping up appearances. There were still a few hours here and there, those unfortunate gaps between classes that made the school day last longer, where one or the other of us had enough free time to make the journey across campus to see each other for a moment. Twice a week there was even an hour long gap that we both had free.

I was in Dr. Miller's art class again, but this time around Dr. Miller wasn't as confrontational with me. To be fair, I wasn't as stubborn of a student with him either. I guess I did have the potential to be a dick occasionally. He even invited me to participate in the Fall art show. My art history class was going to be a bit daunting, I decided, after seeing the size of the text book. Amy was excited about her classes, especially her finance class. How anyone could get that excited about math and economics was beyond my comprehension.

Amy became a common fixture in the art building those two days a week when we could meet up on campus. Because we both knew too many people on campus, we had to keep our relationship under wraps. It was not uncommon for guys to come up and try to flirt with her in my presence. She always let them down gently, giving them a story about a boyfriend off campus. I wasn't bothered by it at all anymore. It was even mildly amusing to watch, as I learned that guys are not as smooth as they generally think they are when they try to flirt with a woman.

Megan was around the art building, of course, and while Amy was never anything but polite, I picked up on the tiniest hint of irritation when Megan would visit with us. Of course, this could have to do with Meg's physical nature, as she often greeted me with a hug and would linger a perceptible second too long when she had occasion to touch me. Megan knew that I had a serious girlfriend now that was not attending the college and that none of our mutual friends had met. She once asked Amy if she had met my mysterious girlfriend, which made for a surreal conversation.

Amy mischievously described a fictional blonde girl named Marie, who was so loud in bed that Amy had once threatened to record us and put it on the internet so that she could finally get some sleep. I had smiled to myself at the name "Marie" as it was Amy's middle name. She then told the breakfast bite mark story, enjoying my embarrassment, changing the name of the suspected biter from Megan to that of my fictional girlfriend. That had made Megan give me quite a look, given that we used to sleep together and I had never caused her lose her self control to that level. Then again, I hadn't exactly tried. I only shrugged, somewhat bashfully at the look that Megan gave me. She had excused herself rather quickly after that conversation, to Amy's complete amusement.

At home, she continued to sneak into my room almost nightly once everyone had gone to bed. We did not dare have sex with our parents home as we both had no faith in her ability to keep quiet during intercourse, but we spent a lot of time keeping each other sexually satisfied in other ways. Our parents appeared to be still oblivious to our relationship, and we remained vigilant in keeping it that way. We found that our lives sort of fell into two halves, almost like two separate worlds.

There was the "outside world" where we had to interact with other people and maintain some kind of distance from each other and the "our world" that we fell into when we were alone. We tried our best to keep ourselves in that kind of a mindset, which made it easier to keep our forbidden relationship a secret. While we never exactly discussed the "rules" of the "outside world", we more or less understood them. We kept physical contact to a minimum. We purposely antagonized one another over petty things like we had done pretty much since birth. And we made a point of doing things separately with our friends. I still went out to the bar occasionally with John and the rest of the guys. She would go clubbing with her friends most weekends. Of course, this meant that we were usually the first ones to leave the bar or club so that we could get back home to each other.

Midway through the semester, the owners of the music store I worked for informed me that they were going out of business. It was not unexpected in the ever increasing digital era, but it was still disappointing. Finding myself temporarily unemployed, I was totally shocked when Dr. Miller offered me a position as his teaching assistant, which extended to helping him with things at his personal art studio. This was the kind of job offer that most of the art students on campus would kill for. I readily accepted the job, to Amy's complete delight.

* * *

One Friday afternoon, I came home from class and set about working on a new canvas for the upcoming Fall art show. Amy was going to a friend's after work and wouldn't be home until late. I spent about an hour on it before I heard my mother call for me from downstairs. I went downstairs wiping the paint from my hands on a heavily stained dishrag and found her in the kitchen, working on dinner.

"How was class?" She asked.

"Fine. I got my art history paper back today. I scored a 92 on it." I replied, quite relieved about that paper. Art History often bored the piss out of me.

"That's great, honey." She paused slicing up a bell pepper to look up at me. Something was clearly on her mind.

"Do you know if Amy has a boyfriend?" She asked me after a pregnant pause. I found myself cocking an eyebrow, curious where this was going.

"Not that she's mentioned. Why?" I tried not to sound as wary as I felt.

"It's just that she used to date all the time. I haven't heard her so much as mention a boy in a couple of months now. I'm not sure if I should be worried about her or not. Does she seem okay to you?"

"She seems fine to me, mom." I replied, dialing my hidden panic meter back down a couple of notches. This conversation wasn't headed where I initially feared it may be. "You remember that dickhe- er.. Sorry, mom. You remember that jerk she was seeing, Jeff? He cheated on her and really hurt her feelings. I think she's just taking a break for a little while from dating after that. But I think she's fine."

Thankfully, she elected to ignore my cursing. Normally, I'd have gotten a bit of a tongue lashing for that. It didn't matter how old I was, it was still her house. In her younger days, Amy had seen it as her personal mission in life to report me for every foul word that ever crossed my lips within earshot, despite her being the root cause of most of them.

"I guess so." Mom replied. "It's just not like her, you know? She should be out having the time of her life right now."

"I'm sure she's fine." I certainly hoped that she was having the time of her life, as well. Just not quite the way that our mother did.

"You'll keep an eye on her at school, right? Make sure she doesn't fall for the wrong guy?" She added.

"I can try, mom. She doesn't exactly value my opinion in the dating department." I felt the guilt stabbing me in the chest, feeling like my baby sister perhaps had fallen for exactly the wrong guy. The last guy she should ever fall for, in fact.

"I know, but you two are getting along really well these days.. Just try to watch out for her is all I ask."

"Sure. I'll do what I can." I replied, noncommittally. I felt bad about my relationship with Amy for the first time in a long while. It was one thing to not mention it to people and hide it. Directly lying about it to our mother was harder. Harder than I had expected.

"Thanks, sweetie. Dinner will be ready in about an hour. Love you."

"Love you too, mom." I replied and went back upstairs.

I didn't fully exhale until I retreated to the relative safety of my bedroom. While our mother clearly had no idea about us, that entire exchange rattled me. I went to my computer and turned the music back on. I paced back and forth in front of the canvas for a while, trying to shake the darkened mood that I was slipping into. My mother's words "the wrong guy" kept repeating in my head, feeling like I was very much the wrong guy, even if I was the only one who seemed to realize that. I paced more, feeling my chest tighten. My eyes bored holes in the black canvas in front of me. An image began to form in my mind... I grabbed the paint knife from my shelf and set to work.

I painted with an almost feverish intensity, working entirely in shades of black and white. I painted straight through dinner, never hearing the call that the food was ready. I kept layering on white paint, then scraping much of it away with the paint knife. Then I'd layer on black paint and scrap it the same way. Ghostly smears remaining behind. Subtle, mournful faces emerged from the background. Walls of tall, ominous shades of gray towered over them. Figures, not fully defined and only hinted at, cowered in the corners of the canvas, their faces covered in shame. The knot in my stomach finally began to loosen it's intense grip on me, as I wrapped up working on it for the night.

I backed away from the canvas a moment to take in what I had done so far. My now black and gray forearms ached from how hard I had been gripping the paint knife. The shorts I generally painted in, the ones with the yellow hand prints all over them, were now heavily flecked in black and white, like a wearable Jackson Pollock canvas. With a heavy sigh, I dropped to my knees in front of it and closed my eyes wearily. I sat on the floor that way for several long minutes, emotionally drained and exhausted.

A small, gentle hand came to rest on my shoulder. I almost flinched from it, but recognized the touch immediately and caught myself. I looked up at Amy's beautiful face to see a worried expression staring back at me.

"What's wrong, baby?"

Instead of replying, because I was unsure of what to say, I buried my face in her hip. For once, I remembered the paint all over my hands and didn't hug her. She placed a worried hand on the back of my head, holding me to her. She smelled so fucking wonderful to me, as always.

"I'm going to go take a shower, real quick. I'm a damned mess." I stood up and tossed the paint rag on the drop cloth by the rest of my art crap.

"I'll try to explain when I get out, okay?"

She nodded, still looking concerned, but not wanting to push the issue just yet.

I had been in the shower for a few minutes, collecting my thoughts and scrubbing my forearms clean. I was watching the paint from my arms create a gray line of water racing toward the drain, when the shower door opened and Amy, now fully naked, stepped in to join me.

"Are you nuts? What if one of them comes upstairs?" I gave her an alarmed look.

"They're asleep. They won't come up."