Warning: You must be 18 or older to read this. By clicking “See more” you are confirming that you are at least 18 years of age.
Or something like that, at least.
“Seriously?” I ask, even though I’ve already paid. “You really need two kinds of trail mix?”
“Amber, you don’t understand.” The look on her face says that the issue of trail mix variety is something Marina is very passionate about. “This one has M&M’s, and yogurt raisins. But this one has almonds and chocolate chunks.”
“So? Isn’t that how most trail mixes are?”
“Amber. Have you never, ever eaten trail mix? Most of it’s peanuts. And raisins. Which means that most of it’s gross.”
I just shake my head as she grabs the grocery sack . It’s not like we can’t spare the money for two bags of trail mix, so I shouldn’t be too upset. More than anything, I’m blown away by how bad her taste in snack foods is.
Marina hums to herself as we head back to the RV. Her bag of treats – poorly mixed as they may be – shakes with each bouncy step that she takes.
“I’m surprised you didn’t get any marshmallows this time.”
She freezes in place.
“There’s no campfire. That means that marshmallows are boring.”
“But you don’t even like half of what you got, do you?”
“Amber! Just because I don’t like raisins doesn’t mean that I don’t respect trail mix. It’s the perfect snack food; developed over centuries!”
“Uh huh. You’re just gonna eat the chocolates out of it, aren’t you?”
Another pause. She looks left, then right. Everywhere except my eyes.
“Maybe I am.”
Oh, Marina. Nothing if not predictable.
I lead the way back to the RV. It’s about a 15 minute walk from the store. A couple times, Marina tries to dart ahead, but constantly ends up on the wrong trail. If I left her in charge, we’d end up in New Hampshire or something. Even though we’re on the west coast right now.
To nobody’s surprise, she’s opened one of the bags of trail mix and is munching as we walk. Nuts and raisins spill out of her hands as we go, leaving a sparse trail behind us like some half-assed Hansel and Gretel.
By the time we get back to the RV, one of the bags is half-empty. She offers it to me, mouth full of snacks, and I grab a handful.
It’s nothing but the reject ingredients; the stuff she said she didn’t like. I toss it back like I’m taking a shot of whiskey as I unlock the vehicle.
Inside it’s cool and temperature-controlled, a welcome change from the desert heat that plagued us on our short shopping trip. Once I turn on the air conditioning, the environment quickly goes to from pleasant to perfect.
“I’m so tired,” Marina announces as she sits down on the foot of the bed. She kicks off her shoes, wiggling her bare toes in the now-cool air.
“How? You’ve only been up for like two hours!” She had napped through most of the afternoon, even though I was the one who pulled an all-nighter. A fact which the soreness in my eyes won’t let me forget.
“Just am,” she says plainly while I head into the bathroom.
“You just are, huh? Doesn’t sound like it.” I have to yell because I have the sink running, splashing water onto my tired face.
“Yeah, well…” Her non-answer is even less convincing than her non-excuse. After drying my face off with a towel, I go back into the “bedroom.” To my surprise, she’s changed into her pajamas and is settling back down on the bed.
For the millionth time, I think about how cute they are: sea-green with a pattern of smiling pink monkeys. It’s more like the kind of design you’d expect for a young child’s clothes. But Marina seems to like them. A line of metal buttons, straight up the middle, is all that holds her outfit together.
Tearing my eyes away from the shadowy gaps between them is difficult.
I collapse onto the bed beside her. I sink into the mattress like quicksand, the slope of the bed dragging her towards me. Marina places a hand on my stomach, between my breasts and navel, and leaves it there. With her free hand, she pinches my shirt, exposing a thin section of my stomach.
“Couldn’t sleep very well last night,” she murmurs. It’s so quiet that I’m not sure if I was supposed to hear it. The sounds of her digging through the bag and munching on chocolate is louder than our “conversation” itself.
I sit up, causing her hand to drop from my belly onto my thigh. I don’t bother to move it, despite the way it makes me suck in my breath.
Neither does she.
“What’s keeping you up?”
She just shrugs, not meeting my eyes. And still, there’s the persistent crunching sound as she eats, like snacking will keep her from having to answer.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” I say, not unkindly. At the same time, I gently grab her chin, which stops mid-chew, and turn her to face me.
Swallowing, she sighs a peanut-scented breath into my face.
“It’s just kind of… You know.” She wiggles her body, like the motion can get the message across. If we were worms or snakes, it might work.
“No, I don’t know.” In fact, I have no idea.
Her face gradually lights up, as red as my shirt, and the bag in her hands sits languid and forgotten. Finally, like she’s confessing some deep, dark secret, she turns to face me, though her gaze is fixated on the ground.
“I’m just not used to sleeping next to someone else. Who isn’t one of my siblings, I mean.”
Even though that’s something relatively simple, and even understandable, she looks mortified to admit it.
“Hey,” I tell her, rubbing her back. “I uh, I’m not really used to it either. But it’s nice, you know? Being that close to you, I mean. I like sleeping with you. Next to you, rather.”
She giggles. “Oh yeah? I can tell what’s on your mind!”
Now it’s my turn to blush. “That’s not what I meant! I don’t… I mean, I do, but… Wait, no!”
This is all coming out wrong. Flustered, I try to backpedal and correct myself, but she’s too busy giggling to notice. She tries to cover her mouth with one hand, but seems to forget that she has a handful of food in it. The result is a mess of peanuts, raisins and half-melted chocolate all over her and the bed.
That puts a quick end to her laughter.
“Oops,” Marina says as she tugs her shirt away in order to look down it. She reaches in and digs around, foraging like a bear before Winter. One of the buttons on her pajamas pops open, though she doesn’t fix it. After finding several lost pieces, she sets them all on her knee.
Without really thinking, I swipe and eat them.
“Amber!” Marina looks mildly scandalized. “Those were in my…”
Face going red once again, she trails off. I grin.
“I know they were.”
Then, before she can say much more, I scoot an inch closer together and press Marina’s face to mine.
It takes a second before she leans into my kiss. Seems I took her by surprise. But then she wraps an arm around me, drawing me closer and tighter to her.
Our eyes are closed, or at least mine are. My teeth brush against hers, and then my tongue enters her mouth. I trace it over her teeth, tasting the hint of chocolate that coats them and permeates her breath. The whole experience is sweet, both literally and not.
Marina’s tongue meets my own, mixing our saliva. Feeling bolder than ever, I gently bite down on her tongue – not enough to hurt, but enough to keep it in place – and suck. A low whine escapes from her, echoing up from her throat and into my mouth. I can practically taste the sounds of her pleasure, causing me to shift my legs to accommodate a growing wetness there.
While she only had one arm around me, Marina soon grabs me in a full-on hug as she climbs into my lap, our lips still locked together. In the back of my mind, I’m absurdly aware of the fact that she’s still holding onto the bag of trail mix. It’s probably forgotten by now, even though it dangles behind my back.
The moaning sounds she’s making become lewder as I force my tongue further into her mouth, exploring every inch that I can. She returns the favor. The feeling of someone else; someone alive and inside of me doesn’t feel invasive, but instead is intimate and rewarding.
My own sounds of pleasure join hers as we exchange breath. Our lips smear against each other on occasion as we shift, coming apart but always finding each other once again. The entire lower half of my face is slick with her spit from our furious make-out session.
All the while, Marina rubs against my torso. Whether she’s intentionally grinding herself on me, or if it’s just the natural motions of her body, I don’t know. But I know that it causes flashes of heat in my pants, and my nipples to grow hard against the constant friction of her body against my chest.
At some point I can’t take it anymore. Without separating our lips, I wrap one arm around Marina to keep her more or less in place and guide my other hand between her legs. A single button is all that holds the crotch of her pants together, and I undo that easily. Her breath hitches, sucking the air directly out of my mouth, but she doesn’t try to stop me. I brush the back of my hands against her panties, discovering with a thrill that they’re as wet as mine are.
We keep kissing while I gently massage the outside of her underwear with my thumb. The moans she emits get longer and more sensual as I touch her. Then, I slip two fingers into her panties, my wrist causing yet another button to pop open. She’s dripping wet, immediately soaking my fingers even though they’re still on the outside of her body.
Marina bites my bottom lip and exhales deeply through her nose, the warm air caressing my face. Then she moans, “Amber,” and I open my eyes. A second later, hers open too, just halfway, and we lock eyes as I continue to rub the outside of her pussy.
“Is this okay?” I ask, even as I massage her clit. She nods, her whole body shaking with what I assume is pleasure, nose brushing against mine. A bead of sweat appears on her forehead and I kiss it away, wanting to taste all of her that I can.
With one last kiss on her lips, I move my head past her shoulder, so my mouth is by her ear. I nibble that, barely and for only a second, before I pull away again.
“Can I take off your clothes?” I ask. There isn’t a second’s hesitation before she nods again.
I draw my hand out from inside her pajama bottoms as I scoot further back onto the bed. I lay down, pulling her towards with me with my dry hand. Then, as gently as I can, I ease her off of me and onto her back.
I pull away from her long enough to take in the whole sight of her: disheveled hair, heaving chest, and half-open clothes. Despite all that, she meets my eyes and smiles. It’s a pure and earnest smile. You couldn’t tell by looking at it that I was about to take her virginity.
I find the already undone button near her chest, hanging invitingly open. I grasp one side of her clothes in each hand and pull her pajamas open, uncovering her entirely.
To my surprise, she must have taken off her bra when she put on her pajamas. Her breasts are free in the air, nipples hard and erect like mine. Ignoring them for now, I continue to undress her, undoing the rest of the buttons. With each satisfying pop, more and more of her body is exposed until she’s fully naked except for the soaked turquoise panties that I’ve already bypassed.
For the first time, I take in almost all of Marina. Her breasts are full without being huge, but she covers them with one arm when she catches me admiring them. The way that she hides herself, but not entirely, and how she won’t look me in the eye makes it even hotter.
I lower myself down next to her and she rolls onto her side, facing away and whimpering in an embarrassed way. I run one hand up and down her thighs and over her ass, then up her body until I’m cupping her breast in my hand. She whines even louder now, grinding her legs together – no doubt to pretend to resist her growing arousal. I pinch her nipple, rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger, which makes her whole body shudder electrically.