This is based on a true story, only the names have been changed and any identifying details
It started off innocently enough. I was driving from my mother’s house to get back to where I live so I could get ready for work. I stopped at the light coming out of her neighborhood and saw a girl standing in the rain at the bus stop. It was “my” bus stop – the same one I had stood at for four years of High School.
The girl had no umbrella and the rain was steadily soaking her. She stood with her head down, her straight dark hair hanging down around her face and dripping. She was in a jean jacket, the school’s mandatory white top and navy skirt and hunched over a backpack. I immediately felt bad that she was having to stand in the rather cold rain.
Without thinking (how awkward it would be to have a strange adult in a car suddenly talk to a High School girl at a bus stop?), I put down the window on the passenger side and called to her.
“Excuse me!” I yelled. The girl looked up halfway. I could just make out her eyes under her forehead and surrounded by her bedraggled wet hair. The look was suspicious, but I was oblivious at this point and continued.
“Do you need a ride? Get out of the rain?” I offered, sincerely just thinking of trying to get her out of the cold rain. I saw her hesitate. It wasn’t an immediate rejection, so I tried to persuade her. And everything I said was true.
“I go right by the High School on the way to work. I can drop you off.” She looked left and right, but I wasn’t sure if she was checking for threats or looking for help. My light turned green, but fortunately I didn’t have anyone behind me. It was very early. I never did understand why our High School started and let out so early compared with most other schools.
“You’re perfectly safe, I went to the same High School.” I thought I saw a fleeting flash of a quirky smile on her face.
“I know,” she said, “You were a senior when I was a first year.” Having apparently made up her mind, she looked around again quickly and dashed for the door. I reached over and pushed it open for her. She hurriedly got in and slammed the door as I put the window back up. She didn’t look at me, just kept her head down even as she mumbled “Thanks.”
“No problem,” I said, for some reason fascinated by the droplets that slowly made their way down the strands of her hair to drip on her legs and skirt. I pulled my eyes away and drove. I reached for the climate controls.
“Here,” I said, “let me turn the heat up. You must be freezing.” She didn’t say anything, but I noticed she put her hands up to the vents to capture the heat that was now streaming from them. We drove on in silence for a long time, the interior eventually warming up to enough of a comfortable level that she returned to clutching her backpack again.
She seemed very nervous and I wasn’t entirely oblivious as to why. She did, after all, get in a stranger’s car. One of the things parents are incessantly telling their kids not to do. So, I did what I could to set her at ease, driving the obvious main route to the school among many other cars, bright streetlights, etc. The school was only another five or ten minutes ahead and yet she still didn’t seem to be relaxing at all. I gave a mental shrug.
“I used to use that same bus stop,” I said, somewhat lamely at one point. “Back when I went to your school.” My voice tapered off as I realized how stupid I sounded. She’d already admitted she recognized me from school. And then it clicked. If she was a first year during my last year, then… this was the young girl that stood with me and the others at that stop during my last year.
I had never talked to that girl, beyond a quiet greeting of “Hey”, even when I would get there and she was the only one there. But I remembered her being there practically every day. She had been very young and, being a senior, it had seemed like she was from another planet we were so far apart in ages. Yet, now, three years later, a job, a car, a place of my own, the gap somehow seemed different.
As I turned into the school entrance, she glanced over at me once quickly. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I took her right up to the door I used to enter when I came to school years ago.
“There you go,” I said cheerfully, “timely, if not dry.” I was rewarded with a fleeting smile and a quick glance as she opened the door. She was up and out of the car quickly and turned in preparation for closing the door and our eyes finally met for once. I smiled.
“Thanks for the company. Driving to work is usually boring all alone.” She nodded her head, seeming a little confused. But then she clearly remembered her manners.
“Thank you for driving me to school,” she said, shyly. I grinned and gestured vaguely out the windshield.
“Thank the rain,” I said jovially, “I hate to see a damsel in distress.” Her answering quiet giggle was like music.
She shut the car door and turned to walk briskly through the continuing rain to enter the school. I pulled away from the curb and continued home to get ready for work. I found myself thinking about her, and how sad and uncomfortable she seemed. It bothered me that I made her uncomfortable, when all I was trying to do was help. But the more I thought about her, the more I had to face the fact that if it had been a guy, I never would have stopped to offer.
Did that make me a chauvinist? Sexist? Chivalrous? I wanted to believe the latter, but I still hadn’t decided when the time came for me to go to work.
I’d been working for three years at my current job – my first job after High School. The original plan had been to work for a year or so, get some money together, and start going to the local college as well. Plans, as they say, are well made and intended, but rarely untroubled by reality. My plans had been no exception. Not long after I had gotten the job – as a clerk in the mail room of a pretty decent sized company – my Grandmother had passed away. My Grandfather had died in the war many years before. I had never known my Grandfather on that side of the family.
But my Grandmother – on my mother’s side – had passed and left me a Trust. The purpose was to give me an education if I wanted it. And, I had thought I did. But a lot of things happened all at once two years ago. The passing of my Grandmother, the windfall from her generosity, and a promotion at work that had been totally unexpected. I had originally intended to go to school and get at least a bachelor’s degree, and probably go on to a master’s. But the promotion complicated things.
I had been working very hard at my job, proving that I had the right attitudes and work ethic to be a valuable employee. My efforts had not been in vain. My boss, Geena, was the assistant manager of the mailroom, and her boss, Randy, was both manager of the mailroom and a nephew of the owners. Atypically, I liked both of them – they were good people that appreciated their employees, yet didn’t tolerate slackers, ass-kissers, or excuses.
The windfall from my Grandmother was a wonderful thing, and I loved her for the fact that she thought of me. But I was promoted early thanks to my efforts to be a good worker and there was a promise of more to come. And Geena and Randy were friends as well. For the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere. I was hesitant to risk that by trying to balance school and work at the same time.
So a little more than three years after graduation, I had a nice nearly-new car, a two bedroom apartment to myself, and was able to save a significant amount that I wouldn’t have to use for school after all. All of which made me feel pretty good about the future. Until I decided on a whim to pick up a High School girl looking half drowned at the bus stop near my mother’s house. And I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
The next week, I made my traditional early Friday morning run over to check on my mother, share a cup of coffee, and catch up with her. I often went over during the weekends to help with cleaning and maintenance issues as well, but the Friday visits sort of evolved on their own as a purely social visit. As I was leaving, there were flashes of lightning on the horizon and the air had that heavy moisture smell that happens before a storm. I had the windows down since the air felt so good. I figured I could put them up in time if the rain came through quicker than I expected.
I smiled to myself when I pulled up to the bus stop at Mom’s neighborhood entrance and saw the same girl standing there. Since it wasn’t raining, and it was warmer than it had been last week, she was standing in just her white blouse, navy skirt, white knee socks and sneakers. The familiar backpack was casually slung over one shoulder this time and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked at me as I rolled to a stop at the light and there was a slight smile on her face. I rolled down the window.
“Care for a ride?” I said cheerfully and gestured to the west, “Looks like more rain might be coming.” Her smile was lopsided, giving her a somewhat saucy look, but she started walking to the car before I’d even finished asking. She opened the car door and sort of fell into the seat. She shut the door and fastened her seatbelt.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, looking forward and clutching her backpack in her lap. The light changed and I started off. I glanced at her briefly. She certainly looked better than the last time I had seen her – less drowned.
“I didn’t think to ask your name last time,” I said with a smile. She looked at me for a long moment and then looked forward again.
“Leslie,” she said simply. I nodded as if this told me something more profound than just how to refer to her. I told her my name and tried to puzzle out why I wanted to put her at ease so much and how to do it. I decided to just wing it and be honest.
“I appreciate your trust, you know,” I said, sincerely. “I know it’s not an easy thing to do. Especially these days.” She gave me a smile that was less sarcastic than the first one had been. Her gaze turned out the windshield almost immediately again nonetheless.
“Thank the rain again,” she said, making a show of looking out the windshield at the flashing storm on the horizon. “I have a feeling I would have been soaked before long. So… thanks. Again.” I smiled and said she was more than welcome.
We still didn’t seem to get much chance to talk during the drive. I tried to start a conversation a couple times, but she fended off the attempts with simple yes or no responses, or in a few cases, a shrug. Even so, the drive passed in companionable comfort and soon I was pulling up to the High School doors again. This time she turned to me before she got out.
“Look. I do appreciate the rides,” she said with sincerity and a hand resting casually on my forearm. “It’s just… if my Mom knew, she’d have a fit and I’d probably get grounded for life.” What she said sounded humorous, and she was trying to make it seem so, but I saw a genuine fear in her eyes briefly that concerned me. But her hand on my arm made my mouth develop a mind of it’s own.
“We’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t find out then,” I said with the confidence of youthful hormones. She gave me a classic double-take, smiled, and sort of snorted in mild derision. With that she got out of the car and I lamented the loss of her hand on my arm far more than I would have expected.
“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you around.” Having said that, she turned and walked into the school. I couldn’t help but watch the wonderful way her skirt bounced on her rear as she did so. Or how sexy her legs looked, at least the portions I could see exposed below the skirt and above the tops of her socks.
I made the rest of my drive to my apartment with a tent in my pants.
I was running a little later than usual the next week, so Leslie wasn’t at the bus stop when I came out of my mother’s neighborhood. I found myself far more disappointed than I expected. But I went about my work week only partially aware of how often I thought about her, wondering what classes she was in, how she liked school, etc.
The following week it was raining, and Leslie was standing at the bus stop, hunched over her backpack, soaked again. When I pulled over, she didn’t even hesitate, but came trotting to the car obviously eager to get out of the rain. As she flopped into he seat I couldn’t help notice her white blouse had become translucent with the rain, and her white lacy bra was clearly on display. Along with nipples made very cold by the soaking. She looked at me and smiled, apparently unaware of the show she was providing.
“Have you ever heard of an umbrella?” I asked in good humor. She rolled her eyes, which I found startlingly attractive for some reason.
“Yes, Captain Obvious,” she said with a frown of exasperation, but then she smiled and ticked up fingers at each of her points. “One, it wasn’t raining when I left the house. Two, the umbrella I do have is in my locker at school. And, three, if I had used an umbrella you wouldn’t have such a tantalizing view of my bra, now would you?” Oops. Somehow, she had caught me looking. I grimaced good naturedly and put my hands up in defense.
“I admit guilt and throw myself on the court’s mercy.” I said with contrition. “Perhaps I can earn forgiveness with this.” I reached in the back seat and brought a big fluffy towel forward and offered it to her. She smiled and grabbed it, pressing her face into it and savoring the drying softness.
“Bless you.” Her muffled voice came from the towel. “You are forgiven your sins. Today anyway.” Her giggle, even muffled by the towel, made me smile in return as I drove.
Unlike the last two trips, she seemed more animated and wanting to talk. She told me about her classes and the one friend, Melanie, that she had at school. How disappointed she was that her senior year seemed destined to be classes that she didn’t share with her friend. I asked about her parents and noticed that she changed the subject quickly. A little tickle of alarm went through my mind, but she soon distracted me by wiping at her shirt with the towel, trying to soak up excess moisture, which made delightful motions happen. She seemed, this time, unaware of my looking.
By the time we had gotten to school, she had the towel wrapped around her shoulders. It was raining even harder out and I suggested she use it over her head while she dashed to the doors. She smiled and promised she’d give it back next time she saw me. My stomach did a little flip of joy at her assumption that we’d see each to her again, but I suppose it only made sense. She thanked me again and seemed ready to jump out when she hesitated. Then she turned back, kissed me on the cheek and suddenly made a dash out the door. Her giggling was the last thing I heard before the door slammed.
I drove to work totally unaware that I was smiling like an idiot.
The next week, Leslie was at the bus stop, but her body language seemed off as I pulled up. The weather was fine, but she was sort of hunched over as if it were raining. The closer I got the more I saw things weren’t right. Her hair wasn’t brushed, she was staring down at the ground, her blouse was sort of pulled to the side and disheveled, the backpack was hanging from one hand by the strap and dragging on the ground. A little fist of cold was forming in my stomach as I pulled over to her.
At first she didn’t even register that I was there, then her face came up slowly to look at me. What I saw shocked me. It was like she was missing from herself – the vibrant smile and sarcasm was gone. There was just a shell of her standing there. Before I knew what I was doing I was out of the car and had my arm around her.
“Leslie, what’s wrong? What happened?” At first she didn’t seem to hear me. Then, slowly, her eyes turned to look at me and her hand came up to rest on my chest, right over my heart. I kept asking what was wrong, what had happened? She slowly shook her head and dropped her eyes again.
“Just,” she mumbled, almost so softly I couldn’t hear, “take me away. Please. Away.” I carefully led her to the car and opened the door. She slid in, seeming exhausted and dazed. I moved around the car and got behind the wheel. As I drove off she rested her head back against the seat, but she wouldn’t respond to any of my questions. I was totally conflicted as to what I should do. Take her to the hospital? The police? I couldn’t decide, not knowing what was wrong. All I knew for sure was that I wanted to help.
Not being able to decide left my mind on autopilot I guess. I found myself pulling into the school, but I had no intention of dropping her off at school like this. Where we were finally sank in with her, and she shook her head slightly.
“No, please. Not here. Take me somewhere else. Safe.” Her head drooped forward and tears began to drop onto her skirt.
“Leslie?” I asked quietly, then a little louder, “Leslie? Do you need the police? Or a doctor? What can I do for you?” She didn’t respond, but her hands came up to cover her face.
“Safe,” she mumbled, “Someplace safe.” With no other ideas making much sense without her agreement, I took her to my apartment. She didn’t balk when I told her in the parking lot that’s where we were. And she didn’t hesitate to let me help her up the stairs and inside. I sat her on the couch and asked her if I could get her something. Tea? Coffee? Anything. She nodded – one jerk of her head – and agreed to tea.
“So tired,” she mumbled as I started towards the kitchen, “so tired of this.” I had no idea what she was talking about, but I vowed right then and there that I would find out how to help her. Nobody should have to go through this. Whatever it was. I busied myself making tea for both of us and found some shortbread cookies my mother had given me recently. I put it all on tray and carried out to the living room. Only to find she was gone.
“What the…” I muttered to myself. I put the tray down and looked at the front door. Still closed, and I hadn’t heard the squeaky hinge anyway. I looked down the hall and the bathroom and bedroom doors were all open as usual. I walked down and looked in the bathroom. Not there. I looked in the first bedroom, my room, and there she was, laying face down on the bed, still in her school uniform, face covered by her hair as it cascaded down around her. I was relieved to hear a faint (and frankly, adorable) snoring coming from her. It would have been far more adorable if she hadn’t come to be here under such dire circumstances.
I was tempted to call work and claim to be sick so I could stay and be here when she woke, but I just couldn’t do that. I looked at her, laying there sound asleep. I figured that taking off her shoes, shirt, and skirt would make her more comfortable, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that uninvited. So I contended myself with removing her sneakers and covering her with my comforter.
I wrote her a note, saying I was going to work (reluctantly). I went on to say that she was more than welcome to stay as long as she liked, shower, eat anything in the apartment, but that I hoped she would be there when I returned. With her comfortable and covered, and the note propped on the nightstand beside the bed, I went off to work.
The morning was a blur. I was preoccupied by multiple things stemming from the morning, not least of which was the dilemma of her appearance and my concern that she would be gone when I got home from work. I might have to wait a week to find out if she was alright. Or more. I considered calling my own apartment to see if she would answer, but I didn’t know if she was still sleeping or not. When lunch time came I told my boss, Geena, that I needed to take the afternoon off. She didn’t bat an eyelash, since I rarely took time off for anything. I know I broke speed limits going home, but by good fortune there were no police to see it.
I quietly unlocked the door and slipped in, wincing when the hinge squeaked loudly. I told myself (for the hundredth time) that I really needed to put some WD-40 on that hinge. I made my way into the apartment, dropped my keys on the kitchen counter and went to look in my bedroom. To my immense relief, she was still there, bundled under the comforter, nothing but one sock-covered foot sticking out the bottom. Then I noticed that the note had been opened, so she had been awake at some point this morning. And then I noticed the little pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed.
Her white blouse was there. And the navy skirt. With a lacy bra and lacy bikini panties casually laying on top. My stomach did flip flops and my heart was beating so loud it was no wonder the sound of it didn’t wake her. The thought of Leslie, beautiful Leslie, laying naked under my comforter, in just her knee socks, was doing amazing things to my stomach and genitals. I almost laughed at myself it seemed so ridiculous. Then I realized her waking and seeing me staring at her like some kind of pervert stalker wouldn’t be the greatest thing in the world.
I carefully got some clean underwear, shirt, and shorts for myself and left the bedroom, closing the door silently behind me. I went into the bathroom and decided to shower since I’d been sweating at work. I stripped off my work clothes and tossed them on the counter, noting without surprise my raging hardon. I started the shower and waited until the water was hot and gently stepped in. My erection was not fading, mostly because I kept replaying the image of her clothes beside the bed and my imagination of what she must look like under my comforter.
I was standing in the stream of hot water, facing the shower wall, hands on the wall, considering whether or not to do something about my hardon, when I gasped as I felt two cool hands slip up the outside of my hips and cross on my stomach. Suddenly I was being hugged from behind by what could only be a very much awake, nude, Leslie. I could feel her cheek against my upper back between my shoulder blades, her hard nipples poking at my kidneys, her stomach on my butt, and a hint of radiant heat just below where her pussy coincidentally warmed my dangling balls. I could have spend eternity being held like that very happily.
Eventually, I managed to find my voice.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said gently, trying to sound casual, though my heart was beating like a trip hammer. She gently squeezed me with her arms wrapped around my torso.
“I was awake,” she said softly. For some reason the sound of her voice to me was like the most beautiful music ever created. Perhaps it was just because she was talking now, responding. Her lack of responses earlier had concerned me more than I’d thought.
“You were?” I asked, still trying to sound casual, but upbeat.
“Mmm, hmm. I watched you come in the bedroom from under the comforter. I almost laughed as your face changed when you saw my clothes on the floor.” Her barest, somewhat forced, giggle released some of my dread of the early morning. Then one of her hands slid down to grasp my erection.
“And I saw this grow.” She giggled more genuinely as I gasped at her grip on my cock. Her hand gently started stroking forward and back on my cock and I couldn’t help but groan a little.
“Mmmm. You like that.” She teased. I was in the outer reaches of heaven, and I moved slowly to turn in her grasp. She let go of my cock and opened her arms just enough to let me turn, and I looked down into her gorgeous light brown eyes. Her mouth was right there, gently curved, smiling knowingly at me. Waiting to be captured by my own. So I did.
Our kiss was intense, deep, and burned into my memory for eternity. I’ve never felt a kiss effect so much of me before. It grew almost immediately intense, our hands exploring each other’s backsides, my erection trapped between us, her nipples sliding around my stomach. We briefly broke to catch our breath and I moaned that her kiss was the one I’ve waited for all my life. I don’t even know where that came from, but I was happy when she smiled radiantly, and we began to kiss again.
Eventually she worked her hand between us and was stroking my hard cock again. Then suddenly she wrapped her forearms around my neck and leapt up to wrap her legs around my waist. We had barely interrupted our kissing while she did this and I was so absorbed in her kiss that what came next rocked my world.
I felt her hand on my cock and her hips shift and pull away briefly. Then my hard cock was engulfed in a fiery heat as it slid into her tight wet pussy. We both moaned into each other’s mouths as the sensation grew as I sank into her deeper and deeper, eventually bottoming out with our pubic bones pressing together. The feel of being inside her, and her being so tight, nearly pushed me over the edge immediately. She must have known, or sensed that, as she kept herself impaled there without moving as our kissing resumed. My hands were on her ass, one hand to a cheek and eventually she clenched her butt to signal me to start helping her move my cock out and in again.
We made love like that until I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt bad that she wasn’t going to share my orgasm, but as she moaned in pleasure I warned her of my impending orgasm.
“Cum in me,” she moaned, “Please. Cum inside me.” And I was so far gone I wasn’t thinking in terms of anything but orgasm inside her. I gripped her ass and mashed her against me, pushing my hard cock as deep as I could go, eliciting a long moan from her as my seed started to flow up my shaft and spurt hotly inside her. I have never cum so hard in my life! My knees buckled and she followed me down to sit on the shower floor, the water now coming down on our heads like a hot summer rain. But still I came inside her.
“God! Oh, God,” she wailed in ecstasy, “I can feel you cumming inside me!” And then she was kissing me again as my balls seemed to be trying to empty every ounce of fluid in my body into her perfect pussy.
Suddenly, she started shaking and her pussy was spasming around my still hard cock as her own orgasm hit, apparently triggered by feeling me cumming in her. She buried her face against me and moaned and gasped her orgasm into my neck. Her pussy muscles were practically milking my cock as she enjoyed wave after wave of orgasm. At the end, when her orgasm was tapering off in diminishing waves, she started gasping and laughing and saying over an over “Oh my God! That was incredible!”
I certainly couldn’t argue with her, as we sat there, my cock still buried in her, throbbing from the experience.
We kissed more gently and affectionately now, rather than in a paroxysm of lust-filled release. Our hands were gently caressing or massaging, hers on my neck and around my back, mine on her ass and her thigh. We pulled gently apart to gaze at each other and I saw her sweet slight smile as her eyes met mine. It took my mind a few moments to wrap itself around what had just happened. I wasn’t a virgin, but the few brief and awkward encounters I’d had in college hadn’t prepared me for the mind-blowing experience I’d just been a part of.
“Never in my wildest dreams…” I started, but her fingertip touched my lips, silencing me. She hugged me, cheeks against my chest, and she squeezed me inside her gently with her pussy. Just enough to make me aware she had done it deliberately. The intense intimacy of that gesture filled my heart with desire for this girl. And, amazingly, it made my formerly shrinking penis start to firm up again. She giggled.
“Round two?” she asked in a sexy voice. I smiled even though I knew she couldn’t see it and thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of my cock getting harder and harder inside her. It must have felt pretty good to her as well.
“Mmmmm,” she groaned and squeezed me even harder with her pussy, “definitely round two.” She kissed me and I surprised her by standing up with her still impaled on my ever-hardening cock. With my elbow I pushed the shower off and stepped out onto the shower mat. With only a few bumps of my elbows and one of her butt, we made out way through doorways until I could gently lay us on the bed, with her on her back and me between her legs. She kept her legs wrapped around me while I started to go in and out of her sweet pussy.
We kissed like long lost lovers until the intensity grew to be so much that we both had our heads back and were gasping for air. She moaned and wailed and it seemed she was enjoying our lovemaking at least as much as I was.
“Oh God, oh God, yes! Fuck me! Harder! Yes! Of God, fuck me. Cum in me!” she wailed as I felt the beginnings of my orgasm fast approaching. She arched her back, which made the angle even better, and she came with a screaming “Yeeessssss!” Moments later I was filling her tight hot pussy with my thick cum for the second time, pumping away for what seemed an immeasurable amount of time.
Afterwards, we lay there, me still on top but resting on my elbows to prevent crushing her. My shrinking penis was still inside her, and her legs now splayed to the sides, as we panted to catch our breath. I couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful she was. Never had I seen a more beautiful sight. Her dark hair spread out around her head like a dark brown corona, her eyes half opened in the residual ecstasy left behind by our mutual orgasms, but looking at me with affection and sated lust, and the incredibly erotic sight of my penis still embedded in her.
A wonderfully long period of time passed, filled with caresses and kisses, and the feeling of my shrunken penis falling out of her, which for some reason made us look at each other and laugh. Her eyes darted over to the clock on the night stand.
“Stay for dinner?” I asked hopefully. The look on her face was complex. The happiness and sated look faded into one of concern and perhaps even fear.
“I have to get back home,” she said not meeting my eyes, “I normally get home from school soon.” I nodded, understanding. We had shared a wonderful fantasy afternoon, filled with mutual desire and a sharing of releases in our own isolated world of privacy. But now reality had to came back into our lives.
“I understand,” I said quietly. Her eyes snapped to mine, and I saw concern, but appreciation there as well. I smiled ruefully. “I don’t have to like it, but I understand.” She smiled slightly, one corner turning up in that quirky way I noticed the first day I saw her in the rain. She suddenly hugged me hard and I found myself returning the hug just as fiercely.
“You’re a good guy, aren’t you.” She said, more a statement than a question.
“I certainly hope so,” I whispered in her ear, “at least, I want to be. Your good guy.” She hugged me again.
“I’ll drive you home,” I said, fighting my own reluctance to let her go. “When can I see you again?” She looked at me as she was gathering her clothes from the floor. She stood up and looked at me with that intense gaze she has.
“If not before, then Friday certainly.” She smiled her sexy lopsided smile. “Always Friday.” We looked at each other with goofy smiles and laughed.
“Thank you,” I blurted and then tried to recover, but I had to say it. “For coming into my life.” She smiled at me again and as she turned to carry her clothes to the bathroom to clean herself up, I heard her say with a giggle.
“Thank the rain.”
Copyright © c2016-2019 by the author. No reproduction or reuse of this story elsewhere, in whole or in part, may be made without the express permission of the author.
<a href=”https://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-stories/-thank-the-rain-chapter-1-.aspx”> Thank the Rain – Chapter 1 </a>