Chapter 2 – Rick

"I don't want it to be anyone else. I choose you, Rick."

And there it is, the words that flipped my world upside down.

It’s not that I never thought about it before. About Michonne in that way. Of course I have. How couldn’t I? We’ve always been so close. Shared everything from a passionate love of pizza and chocolate, to movies, both loving the tragic hopefulness of the Lion King, and even to clothes. Obviously that’s a skewed one with Michonne often nabbing my t-shirts and hoodies for her own use, rarely returning them. On the off chance that she does, with the unique fragrance of her still lingering, the fabric somehow infinitely infused with her.

We have even shared things that some would consider highly private or personal. My disappointment after my parents’ divorce when I was 17, the trailing sadness that permeated my home, from my mother down to Jeff and I, drastically palpable. The only respite from my mother’s tears, my brother’s constant appeals to better understand what this means for us, and my own disillusionment with the whole institution of marriage, was in my best friend’s home. It was there that I found that nothing had changed. Life kept going at the Anderson home, as though my mother and father had not decided to end their years long marriage, citing irreconcilable differences. A phrase that was never followed by a clear explanation of what the hell that even was.

Michonne’s family embraced me and let me setup shop in their home, their guest room becoming my room. Their family dinners filling my belly. Their young son trailing all of my steps with his unending questions about armpit hair and girls. Mr. Anderson assuring me, as we watched more than our share of sports, much to Mrs. Anderson’s chagrin, that everything would work out fine in the end. Mrs. Anderson fussing over me, making sure I had clean clothes, and plenty of hugs.

And of course, my Chonnie, sneaking into the guest room every night to read comics with me, or often to simply just lull me with her constant chatter about one thing or another. Having to shave her legs now. Does that hurt? Her mother finally relenting and allowing her to loc her hair. Did I think that would be cute on her? Was it odd that she had a crush on Captain Picard from Star Trek, cause he’s totally old enough to probably be her grandfather, but still to her he was hot. The simplicity of her presence, the nearness of her, the familiar cadence of her words uttered with the safety that whatever she had to say, whether some might have thought it strange or not, I wouldn’t judge her for it, has always been what I needed. How I relished the slight weight of her head resting on my arm as she doodled and drew illustrations for whatever comic she was working on. The dark ink from her Copic Mulitliner pen scribbling with quick, short strokes, followed by the scratchy melody as the pen’s point brushed the paper.

That time with her was something I could rely on, that I needed to anchor me while the uncertainty of my parents’ crumbling relationship had my family adrift and me feeling untethered. That time with Michonne signified a feeling of security. Home.

Not once on those nights spent hiding away at the Andersons did I turn over in bed, and not find Michonne right next to me. While I fought hard never to sexualize her as her thin body pressed close to mine, to not give in to my adolescent thoughts of her as a possible romantic partner, it always rested anxiously in the back of my mind. Especially when she would innocently wrap her arms around mine, and simply…breathe. Her sweet breaths, often tacked onto a tiny snore, washed over me as I would lay awake, staring at the ceiling, sleep evading me as my mind raced with thoughts. About nothing. About everything. About the very thought of her, and me…that way…always there, haunting me. Almost animating my hands to reach for her. Hold her tightly. My lips to say the words. My eyes to fall on hers, that soft smile, her dusky frame, for just a hair too long.

But, she was only 13. I was always too old for her. And she was Chonnie. My friend. My best friend. The only person on this planet who knew that I secretly wanted to be a police officer instead of following in my father and grandfather’s footsteps into the family business of hand making furniture. The only one that I let in on my secret confession that I suspected my father had cheated on my mother, and that this was the true source of their breakup. Michonne was the only one who knew that I had a secret fear of dying young like my mother’s father, my grandpa Carl, a life long smoker, who had a sudden heart attack at 32, leaving her and her four brothers and her mother to fend for themselves. Michonne was the only person in the world who knew that this was the reason I always watched what I ate, and when some of my friends were busy trying cigarettes, I stayed away, mortified by the health implications and haunted by the memory of a man I never knew. She knew everything about me, with maybe the exception of one thing.

If I think just a little harder on it now, and swear to be fully transparent with myself, my memory easily pulls from its Michonne file, numerous instances that have foreshadowed that at some point, this would come to pass.

From spring to early fall of every year since my family moved next door, Michonne has donned a tiny bikini while hanging out at her pool. Every. Year. The year I hit puberty, when I was 14 and she was 10? Yeah she was still very skinny and tomboyish, but oh man was I suddenly aware that my best friend, that my Chonnie, with her tiny breast buds, was a girl. And it wasn’t like the ew, she’s a girl kinda thing either. It was the, oh hell, Chonnie is a…girl, kind of thing.

How could I ever forget the summer she got full breasts? Oh god, when she turned 14, it was the summer she was going to be a freshman in high school, and I was going to be leaving in the fall for college. I was fresh on 18, hormones all over the place, tiring of the bumpy ups and downs of my relationships with different girls, and she had just returned from a trip to Hawaii with her parents who took her and her brother Glenn on a family vacation every summer the week after school got out. When she came over to bring the souvenirs for my mother, brother, and I that her family had brought home for us, I nearly choked on my Coke when she popped up at the front door in a bikini top and the tiniest shorts ever. The yellow triangles of the bikini top barely covered her breasts. Barely. The shorts displayed the length of her shapely legs, and hung shamelessly low on her slightly curved hips. With a new belly button piercing to match her superbly, sun kissed skin, I almost died simply looking at her. My Chonnie wasn’t just a girl, she was becoming a woman.

What had happened to my friend? Where was the girl with braces, a little acne, with arms and legs too long for her body, and glasses thick enough to make her eyes swim behind their lenses? In front of me was a shapely young woman, who only slightly resembled my little Chonnie. My eyes were having a hard time processing this beautiful butterfly, newly emerged from her cocoon, eagerly bouncing up and down in her flip flops, breasts jiggling against my chest as she hugged me, so excited to see me after two weeks away. My body though? My body was more than happy to accept the press of her softly curved form, and with a bitter twinge of disgust that I was sexualizing my best friend, I gingerly pushed her off. Not wanting her to feel how excited my body was to see her. To see my Chonnie.

Now, here we are, but this time I can’t push her away. I’m not strong enough. Her sexy allure too powerful for me to fight it. And perhaps she’s right. Maybe, just maybe I do deserve what she’s offering. Her and me, doing this, might be the perfect match. It’s not like I desperately love this girl. It’s not like with Lori, who I have allowed to stubbornly attach herself to me for years. Lori is convenient. Easy. Until now, with her newly introduced demands of love and a future, has she really persisted to the point where I need to finally do something about her. Historically, Lori has been just another woman.

I’ve had my share of women. I’m neither ashamed nor proud of that. From the first girl I slept with at 14, to the various faceless women I have had the pleasure of in between the downtime with Lori when she swears she’s done with me, to Lori herself, I’ve known women. But one thing is for certain, none of them, not one, has caused my cock to stiffen like this. My pulse to throb, palms to sweat, and my heart to crash, without care or thought of damage, plummeting into the pool of desire forming just for her. For Michonne.

All it took was one touch from her. The furious movements of her thin fingers at my belt buckle and the button on my jeans. Determination lighting her beautiful face, the twinkling of the tiny white lights strung across the tree house, making her seem…almost angelic. Even as her machinations ushered in a sense of naughty devilment.

When she questioned that perhaps I didn’t want her, my heart almost arrested, crashed with even the minor thought that I wouldn’t love to ravish her. To feast on every piece of her that she was offering. How could she even think it? Gathering her things to leave me, to run from the possibility of us, I had to stop her. I had to. Despite my own misgivings concerning my worth of something as precious as the tiniest taste of her purity, I want her. I don’t deserve her. Hell no! Matter of fact, no man does. But even less so? That guy Mike. That smug, presumptuous bastard definitely doesn’t. Nope. Not the asshole who doesn’t really know her. The real Michonne. No, the son of a bitch who tried to lock her down with some bullshit promise ring, right in front of me, as though the thought of him making her laugh and smile as he gave her the ring, didn’t almost completely destroy me and make me want to pummel his face with my fist. Not him. I can’t think of a man alive who could love and cherish her the way she deserves, but… But! If there is a man who could try? It’s gonna be me.

So there it is. Fuck Mike! Lori who?

“Rick?”

“Hm?” her voice pulls me back from my thoughts, and back to her lips. Those lips. Lips that have uttered my name a thousand times before, have never looked so sweet and delicious, tempting as they do now.

In this moment, her graceful fingers are twisting in my shirt, helping her to lever herself closer to me, pressing her soft round breasts to my chest. Michonne looks up at me with so much love and hope, and desire banked in her dark chocolate eyes, that I can’t help but to be drawn in by her. I don’t follow my grunted answer to her again with something more intelligible, it’s impossible anyway since my brain is short circuited and solely focused on having her. Instead I follow with a series of pecks to those lips, the pull undeniable. With my hands on either side of her face, thumbs caressing the rounded apples of her cherubic cheeks, I ease my tongue inside of her mouth. Jesus she tastes amazing! Without any further thought my tongue begins a slow tangle with hers, and with the feeling of her plush lips sucking, pliant and wet against mine, opening for my tongue’s exploration, I’m gone. Completely, utterly, done for.

My left hand is now at her slim waist, slowly inching further down to tightly grab a handful of her soft ass. My right moves to wrap around the back of her head, a cottony tuft of her soft dreads in my fist. I’m holding her head, trying to focus, and keep her still so that my tongue can taste and plunder her sweet mouth. Chocolate laces her tongue, so sugary and decadent, but I can’t figure if it’s all from the candy she just ate, or if this is Michonne. Lifting herself to the balls of her feet, teetering like a delicate ballerina, writhing and dancing her body against mine, I decide with honest finality that the sweetness I taste is all her. With that my head amps me up, cranks my setting on high, with the sole purpose of sampling and tasting every inch of this woman’s sweetness.  

This descent into passionate madness is almost painful. Almost. It’s because my heart wants to take it slow. To take my time with her. Michonne is the single most important woman in my life, and has been for so long that I can hardly remember a time before her. Before she punched me in the nose with her little five-year-old fist, and showed me how to do a proper cannonball into her pool. With each thunderous beat of my heart, raucous and loud in my ear, I am reminded that this isn’t just any girl. Our history, our familiarity with each other, her trust of me to guide her through this, demands my total compliance to making this a momentous and pleasurable occasion for her. Not just a rapacious looting of her treasure. With my sweet Chonnie I need to take my time, calm my lustful impulse to lift her in my arms, push her up against the wall, and fuck her. Just the thought of it is making me sweaty, a blazing fire despite the chill of the night air breezing in through the cracks of the tree house.

But that inclination right there? To treat her like I have all of the nameless, faceless women I have slept with over the years, and disregard her needs? That’s the basest part of me, and I don’t want that for her. Michonne doesn’t deserve that. For her, I want everything perfect and beautiful. Every time she thinks about her first time, I want her to think of me, and the pleasure I’m going to give her. But maybe one day I can introduce her to different avenues to find pleasure…? Something a little naughtier than the basics? No, don’t even get that far ahead of yourself Rick. Don’t.

Pulling me back into the moment, and away from the future, Michonne groans my name again, softly into the warmth of our kiss, “Rick…”

For the briefest of moments, I’m petrified, stock still. Is she calling my name because she wants me to stop? Has she changed her mind? I promise to God, if she does I will, I would do anything for her. I’d somehow pull my shit together and remove my tongue from her mouth. My hand from her fat ass. Give her the respect and the space she’s asking for. My dick might fall off from the pain of having been so close to getting something that I can’t lie and say I don’t want, but I would do it. For her. Anything for her.

It’s always been that way for us. Ever since this crazy girl entered my life actually. If Chonnie asked me to do something for her, or get her something, it was hers, I would do it no questions asked. No matter how bad of an idea it might be. No matter how dangerous and ridiculous it might be. There was always just something about her that made me want to see a smile on her face, and for me to be the one to put it there. Rick, let me ride on the handlebars of your bike to the convenience store around the corner. I won’t fall off. Ok, Chonnie, but I won’t ride too fast just in case. Then she fell and skinned her knee. Rick, let me practice my cornrows on you. Sure thing, Chonnie, but what are cornrows? Then I looked like some N’Sync reject. Rick, taste this, I made it on my own! Smells funny, Chonnie, but alright. And then I threw up… Thinking now on our history together, why would this momentous request of me, be any different?

There is a clear certainty in my head right now, swirling amongst the lustful and lascivious thoughts gathered there, that knows, has always hoped, that this day would come. Hell, I’m sure lots of folks saw this day coming. Michonne and I may have never seen this iceberg ready to sink our platonic Titanic, but for some reason, this feels like it was always a simple matter of fate.

Perhaps that is why I have never wanted something more serious or permanent with another girl? Always preferred more casual relationships. Even my cousin Shane has wondered aloud numerous times why I never tried to really lock Lori down. Subconsciously, maybe, just maybe I was waiting on Michonne to feel about me the way I have always felt about her? This has to be the case, and explains why the moment I met that guy Mike, I wanted to rip off his head.

For a brief moment the thought of anyone who came before crosses my mind. Disgusted at allowing anyone else room in the space of this time with Michonne, I decide then and there that none of that matters now. Disposing of those negative thoughts, I pull my lips away from hers, carefully removing my eager hands from her body. Waiting.

“Rick? Why did you stop?”

“You called my name, I thought that’s what you wanted?”

Dropping her eyes, almost bashfully, in a lowered voice, as she works on nervously twisting the hem of my t-shirt in her fingers, she answers, “I already told you what I want.”

A slow, easy grin captures my lips, and I can’t help it, but I feel proud. Excited. Like I’ve won the lottery, simply by hearing those words. That again, she chooses me.

“Alright, Chonnie, I got you, sweetheart.” Dipping my head, and tilting hers to the side, I lower my kisses to her neck. Sucking and licking at the rapid beating of her pulse, I reach my right hand down to intertwine with her left. In doing so, I also inch my fingers around hers, and maneuver away not only any remaining thoughts of that other guy, but also the promise ring that he stupidly placed on her finger over Christmas break. Pushing it free from her finger, my smile grows even bigger, curving my lips as I close them over her pulse with the sound of the dull thud the ring makes against the floor at Michonne’s feet. She either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. I hope it’s the latter.

Satisfied, I relax, and deepen and my steady exploration of Michonne, until I sense her going for my open jeans again. Fumbling a little with the unzipped flap, and separating the waistband of my boxers from my skin, her fingers tickle against the hair on my abdomen, then dip further to filter her nails through my pubic hair. The graze of them, scratching lightly against my feverish skin, livens my nerves with the sensation of her taking liberties to become more comfortable with me. With this Rick. Not her friend Rick. Her lover. 

“Mmm, Rick, is this ok? Is it ok if I touch you like this?”

My eyelids droop at the intensity of this newly introduced sensation. Oh my god. What the fuck is she doing to me? Her hand is in my underwear, her heated palm wrapping tightly around my cock, a strangling grasp that is sure to cause me to blow my load soon. Very soon if she keeps tugging and twisting her fist like that. Damn that shit feels good! Fuck! But wait…where did she learn that from?

Lifting my head from her throat and narrowing my eyes on her, I try to steady my breathing and wrest control of my senses back from her. “Ye-yeah, that’s perfect. But, hey, let’s um… let’s go in the house, ok? This isn’t the place for this…for you.”

Smiling at me praising her efforts, she nervously licks at her full lips, “Ok, yeah.”

XXXXX

“Rick! Are you ready? Can I come in yet?”

“Wait! Gimme just a few more minutes, ok?”

“Ok.”

Standing in the center of my bedroom, hearing Michonne’s voice calling to me from the front room, my eyes bounce around, taking inventory of my work. Once I helped Michonne down from the tree house, I ushered her into my house. Seemingly a little hesitant at first, she stopped in the hallway, wondering where my mother and Jeff were. I guess I don’t blame her. We’ve ducked into my bedroom together plenty of times before, but never ever for something like this. I get it. Attempting to calm her nerves, I fixed her a glass of water and had her wait in the living room for me to retrieve her. I just want to make this perfect for her. With my mother and Jeff in Boca with my grandmother, I assure her that we have the house to ourselves.

Rushing around I gather the black Diptyque candle my mother got on a trip she took to France with my aunt Tracy last year. She’s going to kill me cause I know they are expensive, but I needed it to set the mood. Shrugging I try not to think about it, and instead enjoy the instant strength of the aroma of roses and black currant leaves wafting throughout the room. Everything has to be perfect I remind myself as I click the button on my iPod to begin the music to one of my favorite songs, Snow Patrol’s ‘Chasing Cars’. Straightening the covers on my bed, tossing clothes in the hamper, kicking shoes underneath my bed, I finally take a quick pause to stare at myself in the mirror, and soak in the levity of this moment as the song’s words wash over me.

We'll do it all
Everything
On our own…

We don't need
Anything
Or anyone…

Eyes are a little red, that’s to be expected, it’s pretty late. Fingers dance against each other as my hands hang anxiously at my sides. My hair is too long, I think, as I push a few errant curls behind my ear and back over my head, away from my face. Does Michonne like it long? Should I cut it? My palm drags over my face, feeling the scratch of the bristles of my beard coming in across the inside of my hand. Lori hates facial hair. Briefly the thought crosses my mind that perhaps I should quickly try to shave it? Trailing on the tail of an errant thought of Lori, one that brings a deep frown to my lips, is uncertainty, causing me to think irrationally, and keeping me from moving ahead. Letting my head drop to my chest, the weight of what I’m about to do is hitting me.

Stewing in my own thoughts, trying to settle my feelings, I blow out a long breath. And then, just when I feel like I need something to take the edge off of what is about to happen, questioning myself, my motives, she’s there. Wrapping her arms around my waist, I sense her laying her head on my back. Remaining still, neither of us moves. We just…breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Eventually our breaths synch, as though matching the very biological rhythm of who we are, together.

Grabbing a hold of one her hands that rests easily over my heart, I lift it to my lips and place a kiss to the center of her palm.

“You cleaned your room up, for me? Ooh you must be serious about me, Mr. Grimes!” She teases, and I can feel the mirth in the jiggle of her breasts on my back.

“This is a big deal!”

“I see that. Clean room, candles, and Snow Patrol! I feel very special cause I know you don’t clean your room for nobody, Rick! Nobody. Shit, even when you brought Lori home, she cleaned your room for you while she was here. Gotta say, I’m flattered you went this far for little ole me.”

At first I chuckle at what she’s saying, because she’s right. I hate cleaning my room. It feels pointless to make my bed when I know I’m gonna climb right back in it. But I also know Michonne, and she loves a clean room, and a freshly made bed. And like I said, for her, I’ll do anything. Even clean my room. That part is funny. It makes me laugh at how wound up I am for her, which I guess is pretty evident at this point. But then she drops Lori’s name, and like a brick shattering through a plate glass window, it’s impact on breaking up my good mood is immediate. A tick in my jaw is set off. My teeth clench, and I can feel the jubilant smile that was there, simply fall.

Why would she bring her name up? Right now?

Turning to face her, leaning back against my dresser, I mentally dismiss thoughts of Lori, and I rub my hands up and down her arms, warming my palms against the heat of her skin. “I would do anything for you. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Come here.” I pull her into me and kiss her again, softly, enjoying the taste of her, and the earnest thrust of her tongue, and her lips on mine. There’s hunger in her movements, and her assertiveness has me desperate for her, keen to move us to the next step. With her body in between my legs, tightly held to me, I’m intent on getting to more of her. I roam my hands along the back of her short mini dress, finding a series of small buttons holding the dress closed. Shit! It’s going to take all night for my fingers to maneuver all of those buttons.

No matter, I begin at the top, one by one, easing the buttons through the tiny holes, until I reach the bottom, right above her ass. As I’m pushing the light material over her shoulders and from her arms, then begin to struggle to get it down over her slim hips and round ass, Michonne pulls back from our kiss.

“Let me help you.” Hurriedly, she pushes the dress off of her body, and even though I’ve seen her in a bikini hundreds of times, seeing her like this, in only a white bra and matching panties, sends my breathing into an erratic staccato beat of nervous excitement. The stark white, against her velvety dark skin is like something out of a movie. Of course the virgin, ready to be deflowered, is wearing white. Of course she is.

Taking my hand, Michonne’s nerves of steel continue to guide us through this, and she leads me over to my bed. She’s already kicked off her sneakers, her classic hi-top Chuck Taylor’s that she is rarely seen without, and she’s barefoot. Seating herself on the edge of my bed, I kneel in front of her. On my knees, in between her legs, I run my hands all over her, starting with her feet. Kneading my thumbs into the soles of her dainty feet, I smile a little, taking note that as usual her toes are painted different colors. A variety of red, blue, green, gold, and black painted toes rub against my palm, causing her to giggle. She’s the most ticklish person I’ve ever met, and she’s just about ready to squirm out of her skin even from the superficial simplicity of my fingers’ massage.

“Oh god, Rick! You know that tickles!” She blurts, leaning back on her elbows. The airy lightness in her smile and laughter relaxes me, and has a similar effect on her. This is a serious thing we are about to do, and carries all of the mature levity of such an occasion, but it should also be fun. She should also feel carefree and easy going. I want her to be loose so that she can enjoy this, enjoy me, and what I’m planning to do to her. At least as much as she can given the circumstances.  

“I’m not even trying to tickle you. You’re just so sensitive.”

“No, you’re tickling me on purpose.” She pouts, her pretty face scrunches up, and I swear it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “And I’m not sensitive, I just have heightened awareness. Like a superhero.”

“I think that’s the same thing, but that’s ok, Wonder Woman. Let’s see how heightened your awareness really is.” I offer, then begin a slow crawl of my lips, layering small kisses as I go, from her toes, her ankle, and up the inside of her silky leg, that once I reach the apex of her thighs, I place over my shoulder. Each kiss is met with a tiny twitch of her muscles, a parting of her full lips, a staggered huff of air escaping to evidence how aware she is of my attentions.

Michonne’s reaction is egging me on, and though I want to be everything that she has ever hoped for, and fulfill whatever her expectations are of this moment together, I still have to be me. I’m bringing it down a little, but I still have to give her a little taste. A little tease.

My face is cushioned by the warmth of her thighs, firm with athletic muscle that she’s earned from all those high kicks and herkies. Turning, I take a bite, a small one, not to hurt, to tantalize. To energize her arousal. Sinking my teeth into the plump flesh, I suck the skin against my tongue, pulling a little, applying just enough pressure until I hear a telling mewl of delight from her.

“Ahh! Dammit, Rick!” With her head thrown back, and her leg beginning to wobble in my hold, I release her, not wanting her to fall apart just yet. We’ve only just begun, there’s so much more to come.

“You like that?”

Michonne only blows out a long, shaky, breath in response.

“Guess, I’ll have to try something else then.” I offer, quickly moving my face to rest at the juncture of her sex. Her scent is intoxicating, heady, a sweet musk that I never could have imagined. Not even in my wildest dreams. Emanating through the silky satin of her white panties, the perfumed fragrance of her pussy causes me to shove my whole face in between the outline of the fat lips, sticky and transparent, even shielded from my ravishment. Sucking in a long, hard, inhale of Michonne’s womanhood, my nose and lips buried in her cleft, I decide that if I died right now, I would be happy. That’s all there is to it. That thought sets my cock to hard steel, coupled with the ardent belief that on this night, and any others she will give me, I want to bathe in the scent of her, take my time and devour every bit of her. So I do.

I lean up and away, a movement that startles her so much that she whimpers and moans anxiously at my retreat, and reaches for me. Eager to keep me right where she wants me. Needy. She doesn’t realize it, but that only feeds my passion to defile her even more. Instead of taking her hand, I take a hold of the hem of her panties, the ribboned trim around the waistband donned with a delicate bow right below the jewel in her little outie belly button, and pull them down her legs. Sweet innocence is what these pieces allude to. The color and trim giving off a sense of virginal innocence, the scent of her weeping petals, blooming, dripping with nectar, showing me she’s ready to be deflowered of any pretense of purity. My girl Chonnie is gone now, the woman in front of me, the one whose panties I’m now holding in my tight fist, rubbing across my face as I fall under her intoxicating smell, as she squirms with impatient delight, legs wide open, is Michonne.

While I dispose of her panties, tossing them somewhere across the room, Michonne is removing her bra, delicately unclasping the front latch. Like an offering at my lustful altar, her large round breasts spill out of the cups. High, perky, the mounds remind me of scoops of my favorite chocolate ice cream, tipped with turgid morsels of sweet dark chocolate chips. God help me! She’s too inexperienced to know that the wolfish growl that falls from my lips as I pounce on her, sucking each of her beautiful mounds greedily into my mouth, was completely unbidden by me. I’ve nearly lost control of my own faculties. Rick is now submerged behind the hungry man, ready to sate his fiendish appetite on her unsullied flesh.

Deep moans, cries really, erupt from her, caused by the sensation of my suckling lips on her breasts, and my exploring fingers, rubbing smoothly between her honeyed pussy lips, releasing her of any inhibitions that may still remain.

“Sweetheart, damn! You have the prettiest titties, Michonne.” I sigh, heaving the words as my tongue flattens against her hard nipple.

“Rick…” she whines, her body held constricted in my covetous grasp. With one arm securely wrapped around her waist, holding her sexy body tightly to mine, and the other strumming a steady tune of seduction against her pearl, now throbbing and damp, I find myself in a fight against my own urges. Can I actually pull my lips away from these breasts, and kiss her lips, eat her fat pussy? Or should I continue to bury my face in her breasts and swaddle my own fervent desire right where I am?

The question is answered for me when Michonne’s body begins to tighten. No longer fluid and loose, she’s coming all over my fingers. I’ve hit the right notes, and like a finely wrought piece of gorgeous wood, crafted into the most exquisite of instruments, her voice rises in a passionate song of cries and pleas, interspersed with a hushed mumbling of my name.

Marveling at how truly responsive she is to my affections, I realize that she’s fully ready now.

I carefully release her form, watching as she sinks into the mattress, a mass of satisfied pants, and heavy breaths. Even as I stand at the foot of the bed, the music still playing in the background, I can’t drag my eyes from her as I hastily do away with my own clothes, twitchy with the anticipation of her heated skin against my own.

Tearing open the foil packet of a condom, and rolling it down over my thick cock, I try to steady myself. Not to rush. To savor. To appreciate, not devour. But as I stroke myself, a few tight pulls just to take the edge off, Michonne’s eyes open, and the pools of dark amber set themselves on me, on the motion of my hands.

Toying nervously with her lips, biting at the corners with her teeth, Michonne maintains her focus on the movement of my hand. Up. Down. Licking at her lips she mumbles, “Rick, I don’t… Is that gonna fit?” Panting, she doesn’t seem embarrassed that I’ve caught her staring. No, instead she’s staggered by my size, and our potential incompatibility. It’s cute, and reminds that yes she is a woman, but she’s inexperienced.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you can take it.”

Advancing on her, I gently push each of her legs aside, opening them wide to welcome me. Teetering over her, my hands pressed into the pillows on either side of her head, I witness the trust she has for me swimming in her eyes, even as it’s mixed with a hint of trepidation and fear, and I can barely stop myself from consuming all of her right then.

Instead, I attempt to ease her, to soothe and relax her. Dropping my lips to hers, I kiss her gently, easily, my tongue sliding against hers. Dipping my head to the side I place a few pecks to her cheeks, then nuzzle into the sweet spot just above her collarbone.

“Is it ok if I- ahem, if I touch you too? I like the way you feel.”

“Of course.” Reaching for her shaky hand, I push it down onto my cock. Urging the stiffness in her fingers to release itself, I wrap my hand around hers, prompting her to grab the solid column of my cock like she did earlier. From there my sweetheart knows what to do, and she takes the reigns from me, finding her own rhythm as her fingers barely meet as she circles her small fist around me. My hips begin to jerk into her, delighting at the zing of pleasure caused by her touch.

“Just like that, sweetheart. That feels great…”

I begin to kiss her again, my head growing fuzzy as she continues to work my cock. Michonne pushes her body up close to mine, and with a certain finality steeling her she whispers, “I’m ready for you to fuck me, Rick. Please.”

Damn! Why did she say it like that? Pulling my hips back, I have to stand back from her, balancing on my knees between her legs. There was something about the way she said that. Fuck I almost came right then, right in her hand like some 14-year-old boy.

Leaning up and tilting her head as though she’s trying to make sense of my retreat, she rubs her fingers lightly over my chest. Just a wisp of the pads of her fingers tickles against the hair on my chest and abdomen. She follows the path of hair down to my cock again, now turgid, ready, flushing a hungry scarlet red.

With wide eyes, sexy and full of their own unsated desire, Michonne declares once more, as though I didn’t already fall apart from her saying it before, “I’m ready, Rick.”

Emotion clogs my throat, and stops me from confessing the stirring in my heart that dances right on the tip of my tongue.

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough…

Moving back in on her, before I take a hold of my cock in my fist, steadying my nerves, calming my racing heart, I lean down and steal a few licks of her pussy. The sticky tang of her laces my tongue, and sets fire to raging in my veins. Tunneling my tongue between her pussy lips, I inch closer to her hole, and take my time to lave and lick, adding to the already drenched arousal leaking from her in fat drops.

Feeling her fingers moving along my shoulders, grasping at my long hair, after a few more stabs of my tongue into her, I allow her to pull me up.

“Now you’re ready to take all of me.”

Nodding her head quickly, a dramatic signal of her assent, Michonne wraps her arms around my neck, and threads her fingers in my curls. Preparing herself to take me, she takes in a few deep breaths, and on the last one, after baptizing the rounded head of my sex through the petals of her flesh, I feel her tense again.

“Michonne, sweetheart, I’m going to be gentle.”

“It’s going to hurt. I know it is. Sasha told me it is. Shit, shit, shit! And you’re fucking…huge!” Words leave her in a rapid fire blitz of anxiety. 

“Hey, look at me. It’s me, Rick. I’m gonna take care of you. You know that right?”

“Yeah… but-”

“But, it’s gonna hurt. If you don’t want to do this, it’s ok.” I offer, clamping my lips between my teeth, a fighting effort to stop myself from saying more. I’ve given her a last out. It’s the right thing to do. It is. I can’t let her do something she’s not sure about. And if that thing she’s unsure about is me? Then so be it. Damn, did I just say that? I mean, I meant it, but… damn! Dropping my head a little, I can feel disappoint rushing over me, repurposing my well meant chivalry.  This is going to be over before it really got started, but yeah, if she doesn’t want to…it’s all good.

“No! Rick, I want you so bad right now.” Pushing her heated frame against mine, her full breasts are crushing into my chest, and the sensation of them cushioning against my nipples is amazing. So amazing I have to simply close my eyes to control myself. Doesn’t she know she’s playing with fire? “I never thought we would ever be like this, together. But I’m happy we are.” Pulling my head down to hers, she nibbles at my lips, soothing the stern, flat purse of them with her tongue. Rubbing her fingers through my hair, lightly grazing my scalp, I can feel myself relaxing in her hold. “Fuck me, Rick.” She moans into my mouth, and well, that’s all I need to hear.

Pulling my hips back, cock still in hand, I lean a little to the side, placing most of my weight on my forearm, and push, just a little at her opening. Glancing down between us I can see the fat lips of her womanhood welcome the head of my dick. Opening over me, the heat of her makes me unsteady with raging lust, and I remind myself not to rush. She’s making it nearly impossible though as she pushes her pelvis up a little, as though she is trying to rush me, to get the pain over with as quick as possible.

But I’m sweating, burning a little hotter with each gentle prod that’s met with a modicum of resistance. Fuck she’s tight! The closer I get to pushing the head all the way in her hole, the more she moans, and for a moment I look up to her eyes, just to make sure she’s still with me. She is. Her juicy bottom lip is nervously trapped by her teeth, but she’s nodding at me, a silent plea for me to continue. And then I’m met with that final barrier of her virginity, and I know it’s going to hurt her. I hate that.

Instead of just plunging in, pushing past the thin obstacle, I lay my body down on top of her, skin to skin, as close as I can. Attempting to take her mind off of what is happening, I want to see her smile, I need to see something more than the strained grimace twisting her lovely features right now.

Angling my lips over hers, using my free hand to frame her face and push her lengthy dreads away, I want to see her clearly, without obstruction, I latch my eyes to hers, hoping that my heart doesn’t crumble everything between us when I confess everything.

“I love you, Chonnie.  I always have.”

“I know, Rick. You’re my best friend. I love you too.”

“Yeah I know, but, I love you…Michonne.”

For the briefest speck of time, barely a moment, she’s confused. Befuddled by the confession, and the deep passionate kiss I give her, just as I thrust my hips forward, and into her canal.

“Ahhh!!!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know…” A series of hushes rush from my lips to hers, an attempt to soothe her apparent distress. But, God help me…Michonne is so tight. The constriction of her around my cock is the most intense, binding pressure I’ve ever felt. And it’s absolutely exquisite. The pleasurable throb of her untouched walls swallow me whole, close in around me as I dig in just a little deeper, inching with some minor ease against the taut rigidity of her walls due to the satiny feel of her juices bathing me.

Michonne is frozen beneath me, and at first I’m stricken, mortified that I have irreparably broken the most precious person in the world to me. I didn’t realize that my eyes are seared closed, blocking me from her. When I do, and I open them, desperate to see her face, I almost want to die. Her eyes are closed as well, her long thick eyelashes dusting the very edge of her cheeks, heavy with the wetness of a few crystal clear tears.

They fall in a thin stream down the side of her face, and back towards her ears. The sight is impossible for me, and I’m frantic. Without thought, not knowing exactly what to do, I simply begin to kiss those tears away from her skin. An attempt to erase the pain that I’ve caused her.

Unexpectedly, as though she’s insane, maybe even delirious, Michonne begins to laugh. Why is she laughing?

“You’re laughing?”

Blowing out a long hard breath before she opens her eyes to me, she strengthens her hold on me and pulls me back to face her. “That shit hurt like hell!”

“Fuck! I’m so sor-”

“Don’t apologize, Rick.” Easing her hand down to my ass, she grabs a handful. “Finish what you started.” Biting my bottom lip, a mischievous smile curls her sexy lips against mine. Wrapping her long legs around my waist, she pushes against me again with a wince, but still asserts that she wants me to continue. “I’m ok.”

Though I’m certain that it pains her still, I begin to move. Slowly. Setting a leisurely pace, a gradual in and out, back and forth. I want her to get comfortable with me. I need her body to diminish its rigidity, cause I know it’s a lot for her. I’m a lot for her. I want her to enjoy this as much as I am. Because I am. I hate to admit it, but shit, the feel of Michonne’s curves pressed against me. The sensation of her pussy blossoming around my dick is…is…heavenly. An awe inspiring vibe that causes my dick to swell with every thrust deeper into her. Each time I sink further and further, falling more and more. To the depths of Michonne. More and more in love with with my best friend.

Michonne isn’t wincing anymore, though she’s scored my back with just a hint of painful scratches. I don’t care. Now, she’s stretched wide, allowed my length and girth to find a home inside of her. I’ve settled inside of this pussy and made it mine. Maybe she doesn’t realize it yet. But every time that almost immobilizing zing of pleasure rips through me when I hit that spot, deep in the bottom of her womanhood. A place no one has ever, or will ever touch. I’m making her mine.

“Rick, Rick…”

Tingles, a passionate response to the slapping of my pelvis against hers, to the steady thrusting push up, up, up into her. A fervent expedition to that sweet spot in the depths of Michonne, where I’m sinking, submerged, drowning in the woman I love. “Sweetheart, you feel so damn good, babe! So good…” I mumble on a deep, husky growl. Truer words have never been spoken, though I know my mouth can barely intelligibly form the words against the blitz of ravishing bliss, rocketing from the heaviness of my balls, to burst a blinding rapture of cum into the condom that protects her womb from me. She didn’t cum, but I can’t fucking hold it any longer.

“Grrrrr…hrrrr…” is all I have left to offer her. That’s it. I’m spent. Depleted. She has taken everything from me, and I was more than happy to turn it all over to her. No longer able to even hold my weight off of her as my orgasm’s last few jolts wave through my body, urging my cock to dig and tunnel, to give her every little bit left, I settle on top of her. It’s an electrocuting buzz that stiffens me to grab her whole frame, and enfold her underneath me. One hand squeezing, gripping the plumpness of her ass. The other nestling the back of her head in my palm.

Buried into the sweaty, sweetness of the graceful column of her neck, I’ve got my girl cradled under me. We are so close I can taste the salty sheen of sweat shimmering on her skin. Tiredly, with a weary thud to the bed, her legs release themselves of their constriction around my hips.

Blinking, almost completely zoned out, damn near ready to head off into the deepest sex fueled slumber, I can just barely hear Michonne’s soft, voice. Somewhat strained and raspy from her screams and moans. “Well…damn…”

“Damn?”

“Damn.”

Easing from inside of her, I ring my fingers around the condom to make sure I can properly dispose of it. Rolling to the side of her, I turn away from Michonne to remove it, tie it off and toss it into the wastebasket on the side of my night stand.

Heading back to her side, Michonne is laying in the same spot, legs still akimbo, one arm thrown over her eyes.

“So… is that a good damn, or a bad damn?” I query hesitantly, remembering that she didn’t even get to climax. I’m still interested in what she thinks though, as my head rests on my upturned hand, and my elbow digs into the pillow at her side. Skimming my fingers over her body, over the glowing hints of candlelight hitting her skin, I gotta admit I’m a little nervous to find out what she thought.

“Uh, it’s a damn that shit hurt, but I kinda enjoyed it, who knew Rick had a monster cock, kind of damn.” She shrugs, her lips tilted with a little smirk. “I didn’t expect that little surprise. But I’m sure you’ve heard that from all the girls you’ve been with.”

Caught off guard by that last bit, the part that steals a little of my after sex glow, I draw back a little. My hand freezes, rests on her flat tummy. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t…don’t make this cheap.”

“I’m not. I just know better than to be a fool and make this something that it wasn’t.”

“Hell, since you know everything, why don’t you enlighten me then?”

“Come on, Rick, don’t act all hurt and weird. You weren’t even sure you wanted to be with me like this. I’m just saving the both of us from letting things get…what did you call it? Complicated.”

“This isn’t complicated to me. Not at all.”

“Really? I can name two complications, easy.” Holding up one finger and then another she answers, “Mike. Lori.”

Damn. That hurts a little. Did she not hear me confess to her that I love her?  Did she not realize what just happened between us? “Neither of those people matter to me. And neither of them are here right now. So why bring them up?”

Finally removing her arm from her eyes, she turns to me, sucking in a tight breath with what I assume is a stinging memory of our coupling. “Rick, I bring them up because I want us to be honest with each other. We have always had that. I don’t want that to end because of sex.”

“It won’t.”

“Ok. Good. I enjoyed what we did. I’m glad it was you and not Mike.”

“Me too!” I chuckle, not really feeling any of the mirth behind the tight smile on my face. But I want to keep this light. I don’t want to argue with Michonne. Jumping up from the bed, I head out of my bedroom, and return shortly with a jar of my mother’s lavender bath salts.

Quirking one manicured brow, Michonne wonders at what I’m doing, gesturing her head towards me. “What’s that for?”

Walking into the bathroom that’s adjoined to my bedroom, I turn on the bathtub. Checking to ensure the water is hot, exactly like I know she likes it, I dump in a few shakes of the bath salts. For a moment I just sit there, allowing the calming aroma of the lavender misting up from the bathtub to soothe my agitated feelings. Doubts begin to take over the space where euphoria just recently resided, and I’m not going to lie, it’s taking me a moment to get over the hurt of what Michonne said, and the possibility that this didn’t mean near as much to her as it meant to me. The cold realization of that potential truth immobilizes me, prevents me from immediately returning to her. But then her voice breaks through the dark cloud of my thoughts, like the sun bursting through in bright beams of light.

“Rick! What are you doing?”

I still don’t answer, afraid that my heart won’t let me not plead my case, argue down any indictments she might levy my way. Any more names or charges of sleeping around she wants to level me with, when the only thing that matters to me right now is her.

“Rick?”

Standing, I decide to push my discomfort aside, and I walk with lazy strides back into my bedroom. Michonne is still laying where I left her. But now her face is no longer plastered with that smug smirk, or the knowing eyes that seemed to want to push my heart away and label this something more cavalier and casual than what we both know it be.

“Come on, sweetheart. I ran you a bath.” Angling my body down towards hers, I anchor her body with one arm below her knees, and another at her back, then lift her to me. I catch a glimpse of her blood stained in tiny scarlet dots on my sheets. The same way she’s stained my heart. Leaving behind her mark, a claim that cannot easily be washed away.

Instantly her arms are around my neck, and the scent of me and her clings to her, to me. It draws my attention. It’s lingering all over the both of us, and god help me, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever known. Her thighs are bruised with a tiny dark raspberry, just the hint of a splotch from where I suckled her flesh. She may have marked me, but perhaps, maybe I’ve marked her too?

Laying her head on my chest, she kisses my pecs a few times, and runs her fingers over my chest, teasing the hair found there. Easing her from my arms, and delicately placing this precious woman back to her feet in front of me, I gesture to the tub, offering it to her.

A brief glance is tossed over her shoulder at the tub, and she grins at the soft, damp aroma of steamy lavender blanketing the room. Dancing her fingers over my lips, now set in a flat, dissatisfied line. “You always take such good care of me, Rick. I love you dearly for that. You’ve never denied me a thing, and I want you to know, I will always do the same for you. Ok?”

“Hm.”

“Don’t hm me! I mean it.” Shaking her head softly back and forth, as though she’s trying to dismiss or shake lose something that doesn’t want to be free, she pulls that bottom lip into her mouth again. Damn it, girl, don’t do this to me. I have to shut my eyes for a second. Maybe she doesn’t know that she’s my dream girl. That even as inexperienced as she is, she is seducing me, arousal stiffening my cock again. Dropping her eyes to my groin, as though she somehow can sense its turgid reach for her, she grazes her fingers over me in a quick quiver, almost as soft and fluttery as if it never happened. “I heard what you said.”

Straining to focus with her touch still light and feathery on my cock, I barely ease out a response. “What was that?”

“That you love me. That you love Michonne.”

“Hm.”

“Michonne loves you too, Rick. I think you know that. I think you’ve always known that.”

Shaking my head, I dismiss her assumption, but feel a rush of excitement at her admission all the same.

“I just don’t want this to ruin what we have always had. We can take our time, and…figure it out. Right? There’s no need to rush into anything. Right?” she asks, leading me, drowning my senses in her as I bounce my gaze from how her lips move to crisply enunciate each word, to where she is now lazily stroking me in her palm.

Swallowing thickly, I mutter the only word I can form, the one I could most easily latch on to from what she just said. “Right.”

“Good. Join me in the bath? Help me…ease the ache?” Fuck! Does she mean what I think she means? She’s fucking with me, and I can’t even think straight anymore. Fuck it, I don’t even care. Without another thought, or even another word, I allow my girl to lead me in to the bathtub with her, where we proceed to try and…ease the ache.

XXXXXX

“Hello?”

“Hey man, Daryl and I are going to the shooting range today, you wanna come?”

Groggy, head still a little foggy from all of the drinking I did last night, I press my cell to my ear and roll away from the glare of the morning sun coming through my bedroom windows, towards the corner where the side of my queen sized bed is pushed against the wall. Immediately my body comes up against the heated cushion of another person. Michonne. Facing the wall, and with just the top of her head poking out from under the covers, her long dreads are cloaking her face. She’s sleeping heavily, evidenced by the tiny puffs of air trailing from her lips on the tail end of a soft snore. Curled up in a fetal position, with the bottoms of her cold feet pressed against my legs, I’m not even slightly surprised to find Michonne asleep in my bed with me.

Before I left for college, and most of the years before that, we used to have sleepovers in my room all the time. If it was storming, and especially if thunder was involved, I could almost set my watch by how quickly Michonne’s slender frame would darken our doorstep, coming in with only one knock to alert us of her presence. On those dark nights, when straight line winds, and hail might accompany the eerie presence of a southern thunderstorm, ripping through the night sky, Michonne would ease into my bed, whether I was there or not. Like a gothic angel, she would suddenly appear, inching under the blankets with me to escape the rumbling clap and bang of god’s fury, a light show among the clouds.

Just like then, I welcome her presence in bed with me, it’s occurrence feeling oddly comforting and reminding me of the reminiscent feeling of being home. Strange how my brain constantly makes that connection with her.

Lifting the covers, I notice one thing that’s different than normal. She’s not wearing any clothes, which brings to mind what happened between us last night. That was different as well, and despite the fact that Shane is jabbering away in my ear through the phone, my focus is completely on the beautiful woman next to me.

My bedroom is still perfumed by the fragrance of our lovemaking, mixed with the smoky lilt of the expensive candle I nabbed from my mother’s stash of candles in her bedroom. Even my skin still holds a sheen of our comingled sweat and essence, especially my groin and thighs, my cock and balls sticky and plastered to my thigh from bathing in her wetness. Which is interesting considering the bath we took. At least it’s interesting until I remember what happened in the bath…and one more time after. The second time, when she allowed me the gift of her body, without a condom.

The bathtub was kind of a fluke as I had no intent on that happening. My goal was to only help make her more comfortable, give her a chance to soak away the soreness of losing her virginity. How was I to know that Michonne was going to want to try being on top? In the bathtub? I mean, for a woman that just lost her virginity, she was surprisingly eager to become fully acclimated with the practice of lovemaking. At least this time we both had the wherewithal for me to exit the bathtub and finish myself into my hand. No problem there.

That last time though? At 3 in the morning when I woke to find her lips lapping and nipping at mine, and my dick in her greedy hand. Yeah, I honestly and truly didn’t plan on that time. I was dead tired, weary down to the bone after a long night trying to satisfy my girl, trying to get her that O. Also, I knew damn well I had used my one and only condom the first time we had sex, and was too tired to even consider finishing on my own this time. Since I wasn’t home that often anymore, I hadn’t kept a stash since high school. Hell I was lucky that I had that last one in my wallet. With things being so rocky with Lori these last few months, I haven’t had much need for any condoms at all. Honestly, it didn’t even cross my mind that last night would have resulted in a first, second, or even a third time. Shit, that only happened in my dreams!

In my defense though, I did tell Michonne that I didn’t have anymore condoms, but all she did was lift those sexy brown eyes of hers to mine, tighten her hold on me, and tell me she trusted me to pull out, and cum wherever I wanted. Wherever. I. Wanted!? Fuck! As a guy who had never even had sex without a condom, well at least until last night, I didn’t possess the willpower to 1) turn down raw sex with my dream girl and 2) to not fulfill one of my porn fantasies. I’ve never met a girl who would allow it, so… How could anyone blame me now?

Needless to say, while I did eventually pull out and get to witness my cum splashed messily over the wiry, dark hairs of Michonne’s mound, and her lower belly…a truly erotic sight that made me a little dizzy, and she finally got a tiny O, I barely made it. Yeah, note to self, Rick, your pullout game is not stellar.

Pulling my attention back to the here and now, I’m perusing the smooth drape of her creamy dark skin, the curves and lines of her, and my fingers are itching to touch her yet again. To ride the waves, the peaks, to sink into her most intimate valley. Just once more. Last night I was able to finally touch her, taste her, her unexpected insatiability a decadent treat, pushing memories of our numerous times together to the front of my mind. Michonne had chosen me as the recipient of the most precious of gifts, and as she arches her back now, curving and bowing like the finest ebony wood, remembering all of the lessons my grandfather and father have given Jeff and I about woodworking, and the different types of wood, at this moment I am certain that it’s not a coincidence that Michonne’s decadent frame is reminiscent of one of the most expensive, and breathtaking of woods.

My heart rate increases, and blood rushes in a torrent to my cock, the stiffness awakening all of my senses. And then she moans. Simply the smallest of whimpers, causes such a large impactful assault on my psyche.

“Rick! Hey, man, you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“I said, Daryl got a new crossbow, and I got my pop’s new rifle, so we can hit the range today. Calibrate the bow, and maybe go huntin’ tomorrow. You’re staying with your dad and grandpa right?”

“Uh…yeah. Yep. Gonna help them out at the store for the week. Just until I head back to school next Sunday.”

“Alright. Well get your ass up. We’ll see you at about 10?”

“Yep.” I answer non-committedly, hanging up and already forgetting the promise to meet up with my cousin and friend, and instead try and spend some more time with Michonne. With the sheet still lifted, I toss my phone over my shoulder and place my palm flat against the rounded arch where her tiny waist and hips meet. God her skin is amazing. Is it wrong for me to become excited at the way my paler hand looks against her body? I hope not because outside of the fact that Michonne is my best friend in the world, her looks have not escaped me. It’s one of the things that have always kept me so enthralled with her.

She would sometimes make off-hand, self-deprecating comments about herself or her features. That she was too dark to be outside sun bathing, even though it is one of her favorite things to do. Or that her lips were too full, nose too rounded, hair too kinky. I never understood where any of that was coming from when we were younger, because she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. But when I went away to college, got to know more folks, learned more about the world, I began to see what Michonne thought the world saw her as. And I couldn’t disagree more. The things that she feels make her stand out as an outcast at her fancy private school, in our middle class mostly white neighborhood, in this world, are some of my favorite things about her. Not because they are unique, or exotic, or different, but because they belong to her.

Dragging my hand up and down her back, softly, not really wanting to wake her just yet, I’m in awe of the velvet like texture of her skin, and recall, with a wide grin to my lips how satisfying it was to feel all of it wrapped around me last night. Intense eagerness to experience that yet again, leads my lips to descend on the sweep of her spine, starting at the angles of her shoulder blades. And down. Down. Further, until her body begins to squirm and shift under my lips, now resting at the rising swell of her ass. Tempted to sink my teeth into her inviting flesh, just a nip of her, I’m halted as Michonne’s fingers slink across my scalp, and gather a handful of my hair in her grasp.

“Rick? What are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“What are you doing back there? What time is it?”

“Uh… lemme check.” Craning my head to check the clock on my night stand, I see that it’s still fairly early. “8:30.”

“Shit! I need to get home. You know I’m supposed to be leaving today for spring break with my parents. Damn it, I didn’t mean to sleep so late.” Her alarm at the late hour causes her to startle and scramble, her hand blowing and swiping her dreads from her pretty face.

I’m a little disappointed by her gingerly easing her frame from my bed, and hurriedly slipping her discarded dress over her body. Hiding its glory from my fascinated stare. I helplessly watch as she prepares to leave me. “When will you be back?” I ask, the strain in my voice sounding both a little desperate and eager. The itch of an apparent addiction to her creeping over my skin, causing me discomfort at the very thought of having to experience this immediate withdrawal from my new drug of choice.

Now fully dressed, she shoves her feet down into her Chuck’s and grabs her purse. Leaning over me, palming each side of my face in her hands, she gifts me with a tender kiss. My fingers, animating all on their own, reach for her. Curling into her hips and ass, I drag her down on to my lap.

On a surprised screech, Michonne yelps into my mouth, barely breaking our kiss, “Rick! I have to go! I cannot cause my family to miss our plane. The docs will absolutely murder me.”

“When will you be back?” I ask again, this time with my face shoved into the cleavage of the scoop neckline of her pretty dress.

“Next Monday.”

“Damn, I’ll be leaving to go back to school on Sunday.”

“Hm. That’s ok, we can still talk when I get back.”

“Yeah, you’re right. And, we need to talk. Settle some things.”

“Yep…” She mumbles, and tries to jump up from my lap. I don’t let her. Stiffening my arms tightly around her waist, I hold her down to me, and lick my tongue across the tops of her breasts, just to make her giggle one last time. Maybe even squeal my name in that little voice of hers. “Rick! Ok! When I get back we will talk.”

“Alright.” Dropping a last kiss to her temple, I release her, and watch as she bops with more energy than she should have, out of my bedroom door.

Cheerily I hear her deliver a quick, “Hey, Mrs. G! See you later!” to my mother, who I assume returned at some point after Michonne and I sequestered ourselves in my bedroom. Shit!

Within a few moments of Michonne’s exit, my mother knocks on my door. “Rick, can I come in?”

Covering my nudity with my blankets before she comes in, I slightly raise my voice to tell her to come on in.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Good morning to you too.” Ambling into my room, she pauses for a moment and lets her gaze cruise around taking stock of things, looking for clues presumably. And to my chagrin, finding plenty. My mother’s observant perusal leads her to the half burnt candle on my dresser. As she walks towards it, she steps on what appear to be a pair of white panties. Obviously not mine. Clearing her throat, preparing for her Sherlock Holmes moment, she turns back towards me, where I’m sheepishly trying to avoid eye contact with her, already knowing what to expect. “So, I just saw Chonnie leave. They are heading to Europe this morning right?”

“Yep.”

“And, she spent the night here I assume?” She asks, her eyes bouncing knowingly from mine to the panties lying crumpled at her feet.

“Yep.”

“I suppose that’s not odd at all. She’s been doing that on and off since we moved here, hasn’t she?”

“Yep.”

“Sweet girl that Chonnie. But what might be odd is that for some reason she seems to have left her undergarments here.” My mother directs her red polished nail down towards where Michonne’s panties lie.

Rubbing my hand nervously across the back of my neck, and wincing at the sting of fresh scratches on my back grazing my headboard, I attempt to explain. “Uh… I didn’t expect you home so soon. I thought you and Jeff were staying with Grandma until Monday.”

“I think your grandmother and I can only spend so much time together anymore. It’s difficult like that sometimes with parents and grown children.”

“Mom-”

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on with you two, Rick. I suspect I already understand that something has changed, and I can’t say that I’m completely surprised. Your father always said that when you were ready you would put a claim on that girl. Guess it just took a little longer than we all expected. Especially after you’ve been bringing that Lori around for so many years.”

Not exactly sure how to answer my mother, or where to even begin, I only confirm to her what Michonne and I have yet to fully admit to ourselves or to each other. “Yeah, Mom, you’re right. Between Michonne and I…everything has changed. This is…different.”

“Ok then. I will leave you with these few words cause I know it’s uncomfortable to have this conversation with your mother, but I have to put it out there.” Looking at me over the lenses of her black plastic framed glasses, her eyes a sea foam green, she levels me, makes me feel 12 again with her all knowing mom stare. Tapping each of her fingers to illustrate her points, my mother counts off her pieces of advice. “1) If you didn’t buy it, it’s not yours. I’m sure Chonnie appreciated you trying to be romantic with the candles, but next time, get your own! 2) Be careful with each other. 3) Try to keep the ‘noises’ to a minimum. Your poor brother’s crush on Chonnie has probably grown tenfold after what he probably heard last night. 4) Don’t fuck this up! And lastly, 5) Get rid of that Lori.” With that last point she directs her index finger my way, then spins on her mint green gardening Crocs, and politely closes my door behind her leaving me with time to think over her pearls of wisdom.

I don’t need to think long though. Rising from the bed I search the floor to locate my discarded phone. Finding it quickly on a pile of socks, I dash my thumbs across the screen, eager to set some things right. The first text I send is to Michonne. I’m not sure what the rules are from here on out, but like I told my mother, between Michonne and I? Everything has changed. And whether or not we have had a chance to sit down and discuss it, I know in my heart that this is my chance to get everything I’ve always wanted.

Thinking it over a minute I know that I don’t want to scare her with the strength of my feelings for her, feelings she never even knew existed beyond our platonic friendship. But I also know how I feel. Like the world is new, shiny and filled with possibilities for our future. So I type out the words, and quickly hit send before I change my mind.

Rick: Hey…just wanted to say have a safe trip. And I love you

Michonne: Rick J!!!

I laugh at her response, as I can almost hear her high pitched giggling into her hand that she does when she’s embarrassed.

The next text I send is to Lori, and it’s just as direct, but more ominous.

Rick: we need to talk

Lori: …

Satisfied that I had begun on a path to set things straight, I bend down and pick up Michonne’s panties. The scent of her still pungent and delicious in them. I take a deep whiff of them, pressing them to my nose, feeling them enliven me with new purpose.