Sensitive Act 01

(Author's Note: The following story is based on real events from my life. I wrote the original draft after the events of act three, while everything was still fresh and clear in my mind. I guess I knew it was something special and unique that wasn't likely to happen again, and I wanted to remember how it all happened. Even today I vividly remember the little details of these moments, and I hope this story brings to life something of the feel or spirit of them. If you're intrigued and maybe feel a little tingle of anticipation at the end of each act then I've done my job well. Hopefully, that'll be the case. There actually is a fourth act (more correctly, the continuation of the third act) and if someone out there would like to know what happened immediately afterward, I'll write it. This is my first submission here, so I would definitely welcome any comments or suggestions you have. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed living it.)

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He knew her ears were sensitive.

He knew this because one night -- not too many evenings ago -- he found out for himself in a most unexpected manner. You see, it was most definitely not like he was trying to find a sensitive spot on her body. They were friends, you see, and he certainly wasn't pushing the unspoken boundaries that separate "friends" from "lovers". Oh, sure, there had been brief episodes of almost-naughty, almost-sexual banter that had led to a few moments of sexual tension between them, but it really (he firmly reminded himself every time he caught himself wondering if she really was as enchantingly, wickedly beautiful without her clothes as he imagined her to be from time to time) wasn't like that. No, it simply wasn't like that between them at all, and that was that.

Having trained his mind not to think about her in that way, he found himself looking at her wondrously alluring body, laying face-down on her living room floor. He did let his eyes linger on her form for a few moments, enjoying the way her legs – wrapped up tight in her Lycra or Spandex or whatever tight-and-clingy material her sweatpants were made of – gently curved into the swell of her small, tight ass.

If there was anything about her body that she didn't like it was her backside. More than once he'd heard her complain, "My ass is just...flat! I have NO ASS!" While Mother Nature had decided her body would be \derriere-deficient, she had apparently tried to make up for it with her chest. There was no other way to put it -- she was blessed with a full pair of glorious half-globes that gently bounced when she moved. They were probably too big for her small, lithe body – they caused her back pain almost weekly – but she loved them, she loved the attention they brought her, and she would drop something about 'her big tits" at the most inappropriate moments in conversations sometimes. He remembered reaching through a cracked open door into the steamy, humid swamp of her post-shower bathroom after she'd forgotten her bra once. He didn't really think about it at that moment, and it was only after trying hard to remember the details was he certain he remembered seeing the letters "DD" after a thirty-something number on the tag.

But for the moment, her breasts were squashed between her body and the floor, so he was forced to look at her less-spectacular (well, in her opinion, anyway) back. Truthfully, he wasn't even thinking about how her nipples would tighten up when she got the least bit cold and boldly create that unmistakable shape just at the center of those distracting, perfectly-shaped mounds of hers. No, for the moment he was wondering how those taut little cheeks would feel squeezed tightly in his hands...and that was as far as he ever let those thoughts go.

As she lay on the floor of her living room, relaxing and watching television, he lay on his side beside her, their bodies almost-but-not-quite spooning as he gently touched her face. Slowly he moved his fingers over her soft, warm skin, just barely touching her skin with the gentlest of caresses, nothing more. Then he moved his hand back, and his fingertip grazed over her ear, and she jumped. When she did, he jerked his hand away, immediately mistaking her reaction as something...negative. He mumbled an apology but she didn't say anything...and in a way, it seemed like she didn't care – she actually welcomed his warm, light touch. So he resumed his gentle caressing, his fingertips touching and sliding over her ear, onto her neck, and occasionally back to her face.

It wasn't until later, as she lay in her bed, that he, for reasons he couldn't explain any more now than he could have then, kneeled beside her bed to tell her goodnight...and on pure impulse, whispered goodnight to her, and then, "I'm sorry, I can't resist," and gently slipped out the tip of his tongue and let it slide over the curve of her ear.

What he did not expect was the soft, raspy moan that escaped her mouth and the jerk of her body -- a hard spasm wracked her small body like an electric current had passed through it. He definitely hadn't expected anything like that, but when it happened he felt a powerful surge pass through him, too, a hot jolt of pure excitement that he was able to make her react in that way.

He did it again.

She did the same thing: the jerk, the low-voiced moan, and that was all he needed. He softly let his tongue-tip glide over her ear, pressing his lips to the soft ridge for several long moments. As he did, she moaned, her body curling up into an almost fetal position...and he would have done more, but he knew he could not. It was late, so very late, and he had to go home.

She would never know the willpower, the sheer force of his will that it took for him to pull himself up and away from beside her bed and walk away, leaving her apartment with his mind on fire, aroused so powerfully by the sound of her voice and the movements of her body...all from the simple touch of his tongue on her soft, naked ear. The worst part was not knowing if something like that would ever pass between them again...or if she would even remember it the next day.