people playing it. That and ‘Sleepers’ and all those sixth-grade games.”
“You’ve never been slept ?” she asked, incredulous.
“I haven’t been anything-ed,” he said, lifting the bottle from the floor and flipping it in his hand repeatedly.
“I feel like it’s my duty to make sure you experience something before you move away and start your life in the ‘real world,’ ” she said, placing air quotes around the last two words.
Looking at the bottle, Grant imagined what it would be like to kiss Kamara. “I have an idea.”
Kamara nodded. “I’m all ears.”
He could feel his stomach begin to tense. If she was down, this would be a wonderful experience, but if she wasn’t, then she’d probably leave or steer the rest of the evening’s conversation into such platonic territory that he might as well just unroll the sleeping bag now and get an early start on the next day.
“We can take this bottle and spin it,” he said.
“Yeah. That’s an original idea,” Kamara offered, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
“No. Here’s the catch: If the bottle lands closer to me, you can tell me where you’d like me to kiss you, and if the bottle lands closer to you, I’ll tell you where I’d like you to kiss me.”
The fact that they had never kissed before seemed like an irrelevant point to Grant. He waited nervously, watching her consider his proposition. The fact that she did not flat-out say, “No,” made him even more nervous.
“Who spins first?” she finally responded.
Grant smiled and sat back down across from Kamara. He handed her the bottle. “You go first.”
She looked at him, a semi-smile resting on her lips, and lowered the bottle to the carpet, spinning it around with a quick flick of her wrist. The bottle spun in a circle very quickly before slowing down and angling just to his right side.
“Okay,” she said. “I want you to kiss me here.” She pointed at a spot toward the back side of her neck.
Grant rose to his knees and leaned toward her. As she turned her head away from him to better expose her neck, he placed his mouth against her soft skin, his tongue dancing in tender swirls along the length of her neck. He listened for a moan—or anything—but Kamara sat silently, allowing him to finish his kiss, before turning her attention back to the bottle. “Your turn,” she said.
Still savoring the taste of her skin, he leaned over and spun the bottle. Again, it landed just to his right.
“This must be my lucky night,” Kamara offered. “I can get you to kiss me anywhere?”
“Sure,” he responded.
“I want you to kiss me here—on my tattoo,” she said, lifting her T-shirt to reveal a small, flower-shaped tattoo on the left side of her right breast, just above the fabric of her bra.
For a moment, Grant stared, taking in her flawless, caramel-complexioned skin. The T-shirt had been loose fitting, but now he could see her full breasts, in all of their glorious splendor,perky and awaiting his attention. He leaned in slowly, enjoying the view as his body proceeded to close the gap.
His tongue immediately danced upon her skin, tracing the outline of her tattoo as she raked her fingertips lightly across the back of his head. In his eagerness, he gently pulled down her shoulder strap, exposing her nipple. He took it into his mouth, his tongue fluttering along her areola. This time she moaned.
For a moment, he moved back and forth between her breasts, his tongue leaving a faint trace from nipple to nipple. When Kamara’s hand pressed his chest, pushing him back, he had trouble leaving her topless form. He started to ask why she was pushing him away, until he noticed that she was pointing at the bottle lying on the floor off to the side.
“My turn,” she said, as she adjusted herself. Her bra and shirt remained on the floor beside her as she leaned over and spun the bottle again. This time the bottle rotated back toward her as if magnetically drawn to her skin.
A
“You’ve never been slept ?” she asked, incredulous.
“I haven’t been anything-ed,” he said, lifting the bottle from the floor and flipping it in his hand repeatedly.
“I feel like it’s my duty to make sure you experience something before you move away and start your life in the ‘real world,’ ” she said, placing air quotes around the last two words.
Looking at the bottle, Grant imagined what it would be like to kiss Kamara. “I have an idea.”
Kamara nodded. “I’m all ears.”
He could feel his stomach begin to tense. If she was down, this would be a wonderful experience, but if she wasn’t, then she’d probably leave or steer the rest of the evening’s conversation into such platonic territory that he might as well just unroll the sleeping bag now and get an early start on the next day.
“We can take this bottle and spin it,” he said.
“Yeah. That’s an original idea,” Kamara offered, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
“No. Here’s the catch: If the bottle lands closer to me, you can tell me where you’d like me to kiss you, and if the bottle lands closer to you, I’ll tell you where I’d like you to kiss me.”
The fact that they had never kissed before seemed like an irrelevant point to Grant. He waited nervously, watching her consider his proposition. The fact that she did not flat-out say, “No,” made him even more nervous.
“Who spins first?” she finally responded.
Grant smiled and sat back down across from Kamara. He handed her the bottle. “You go first.”
She looked at him, a semi-smile resting on her lips, and lowered the bottle to the carpet, spinning it around with a quick flick of her wrist. The bottle spun in a circle very quickly before slowing down and angling just to his right side.
“Okay,” she said. “I want you to kiss me here.” She pointed at a spot toward the back side of her neck.
Grant rose to his knees and leaned toward her. As she turned her head away from him to better expose her neck, he placed his mouth against her soft skin, his tongue dancing in tender swirls along the length of her neck. He listened for a moan—or anything—but Kamara sat silently, allowing him to finish his kiss, before turning her attention back to the bottle. “Your turn,” she said.
Still savoring the taste of her skin, he leaned over and spun the bottle. Again, it landed just to his right.
“This must be my lucky night,” Kamara offered. “I can get you to kiss me anywhere?”
“Sure,” he responded.
“I want you to kiss me here—on my tattoo,” she said, lifting her T-shirt to reveal a small, flower-shaped tattoo on the left side of her right breast, just above the fabric of her bra.
For a moment, Grant stared, taking in her flawless, caramel-complexioned skin. The T-shirt had been loose fitting, but now he could see her full breasts, in all of their glorious splendor,perky and awaiting his attention. He leaned in slowly, enjoying the view as his body proceeded to close the gap.
His tongue immediately danced upon her skin, tracing the outline of her tattoo as she raked her fingertips lightly across the back of his head. In his eagerness, he gently pulled down her shoulder strap, exposing her nipple. He took it into his mouth, his tongue fluttering along her areola. This time she moaned.
For a moment, he moved back and forth between her breasts, his tongue leaving a faint trace from nipple to nipple. When Kamara’s hand pressed his chest, pushing him back, he had trouble leaving her topless form. He started to ask why she was pushing him away, until he noticed that she was pointing at the bottle lying on the floor off to the side.
“My turn,” she said, as she adjusted herself. Her bra and shirt remained on the floor beside her as she leaned over and spun the bottle again. This time the bottle rotated back toward her as if magnetically drawn to her skin.
A
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