Anja was true to her word. I spent my morning in windy Christchurch wandering by the river and taking photos; I wasn’t a long-term visitor like most of the people in my hostel, so I didn’t have a job. I went out for lunch at some little sandwich place and when I got back to the hostel it was nearly three in the afternoon. There were maybe thirty people living at the hostel we were at, but at this time of day barely anyone was around; the place was fairly quiet.
I threw my bag and jacket in my room and headed down to the kitchen. Anja was already there – her long, long hair tied back into a messy ponytail, no makeup, wearing a tee shirt and a little sweater and a short denim skirt. Hemp and beads around her ankle, no shoes. She was at the counter, boiling water, and I said hello; she turned around and gave me that casual smile, with a slip of teeth. She had a dimple just on one side. Adorable.
“Hey. Do you want… um…” She held up the boxes of tea that were free game in the kitchen. “Earl Grey or English Breakfast?” A laugh, that tinkling sweet laugh. “Not much to choose from! Black tea or black tea?”
“I’m an Earl Grey kind of girl.” She popped the tea bags into a pot, grabbed a plate and piled it with little cookies. “Wow,” I said. “You’ve really got this planned.”
She moved around the kitchen in her bare feet, grabbing cups, not worrying about crumbs on the floor. I winced; I can’t do that sort of thing. “Yep,” she said, and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s not often I get to have tea and conversation, you know? Life’s been dull lately.”
Oh, charming! And now she’s made me feel special, too. I felt like such a scrub in my dirty black jeans, black tee shirt, black hoodie. She was all lightness and bells and beauty. I followed her out to the covered balcony upstairs like a lost puppy.
We had such a lovely view — it was a tall house and we could see all the houses around. We settled on a couch, she poured us cups of tea, and immediately we fell into wonderful conversation. She’d been everywhere — traveled a lot as a kid, moving around with her family, and just kept doing it as an adult. She was twenty-four, had never had a career — just preferred to go place to place, surfing and snowboarding and having fun until it got old or her visa expired, and then it was on to the next destination.
I loved it. So carefree and so adventurous. She thrilled me; cute and fun and smart? Fucking crazy. I couldn’t help but watch her lips move as she spoke; she had the strangest way of speaking, and I loved it.
“So what about you?” She asked, and bit into a cookie. She spoke next with a mouth full of crumbs — how fucking endearing. “What’s your story?”
I shrugged. “Not sure what I want to do with myself. I need to… figure some shit out. Eventually I’ll go back to school, but before I do that I need to sort out some priorities, figure out what’s important to me.”
She sucked in her breath. “I feel like I haven’t bursa escort done that at all.”
I was surprised. “All that traveling didn’t do it for you? I mean, I find that being on my own away from home and security has really helped me.”
She shook her head. A couple of wavy pieces of hair fell down into her face and I fought down the urge to tuck them for her. “Traveling is how it’s always been, for me. I feel like I couldn’t settle down if I tried. Stability is scary and foreign. I always run away from everything and everyone.” She looked at me. Her eyes were bright. Wow, total moment. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has been temporary. I get scared and I leave.”
I gave her a sad little smile. “But… you know it, right? So that’s the first step.”
She shrugged. “I guess. I just feel like I can’t do what will really make me happy.” She sighed; we were facing eachother on the couch, but she got up and moved closer and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Thanks for listening. I don’t talk about these things very often. Sorry to get all sad…”
I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her close. “I don’t mind at all. I’m working a lot of things out, too.” I could smell her hair, that flowery shampoo smell. “I’m kind of good at advice, if you want it.”
I could feel her smile, with her cheek pressed against mine. She untangled herself from me, and settled between my legs on the couch. We were pretty much the same size — maybe she was a little bit taller than me — but she fit really nicely. I was leaning up against the big soft arm of the couch and she was leaning against my chest, between my legs, her bare legs curled up.
I could hardly believe my luck; this girl either didn’t realize I was gay, or didn’t mind. It’s always touchy at this point. If I make a move, I risk creeping her out forever, but if I don’t, I risk losing out on anything that could have panned out. Oh god. I was nervous and I could feel my heart fluttering.
She spoke. “I don’t have anywhere to go after this. I don’t have any plans. I was thinking of maybe going home, but I don’t know where home is.”
Her ear was so close to my mouth. I dared not speak; I hardly dared to breathe.
“My mom’s in Peru with her husband and a bunch of kids. I just don’t feel like I belong there. And my dad… I don’t know, I think he’s in Asia or something? He’s got a big empty house in France that I could probably go stay at, but that sounds really lonely. I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”
When I spoke, it was low, almost a whisper, because my lips were so close to her ear. “Maybe being alone would be good for you. You’d have to think. You could write, or… make music, or…”
I felt the shiver go down her spine as I formed the words near her ear. My breath had hit her earlobe. She gasped a little, and it took her a moment to respond. “Actually, I haven’t done it in a while but I used to play piano and guitar. And my dad has all of those things escort bursa at his house still. Maybe you’re right.” She looked up at me and smiled.
Cocky me. “I usually am.” I smiled back and she closed her eyes and I don’t know how it happened but we were kissing. It felt like so much softness, like divine velvet everything. It had been so long. It was electric. I felt the tip of her tongue against my lip and then in my mouth and I wanted her so badly, suddenly. The kiss seemed to go on forever and was over too quickly. She looked around. “Don’t worry,” I said and heard the husk in my voice. “There’s never anyone up here.” I’d been reading on that balcony in the afternoon for the week I’d been there and it was almost always deserted.
She blushed and kissed me again and this one was deeper, more desperate; she twisted around to face me and I wrapped my arms around her waist. She was kneeling between my legs and I had turned my face up to meet hers. I felt her raise her arm to the back of her head and then her hair came down like a curtain around us; I felt it tickling my face as we pressed our lips together, dipped our tongues into each other’s mouths. Oh, god, this woman — the same one I’d been fantasizing about the night before — the same one I’d orgasmed thinking about in the hostel showers — was in my arms, pressing her little body against mine.
I put my hands on her waist and in one smooth, fluid motion had her pressed down on her back on the couch, and i was on top of her, and my thigh was between her legs. We were still kissing, and she was straining her body up to mine. At some point she realized where my thigh was and her little denim skirt rode up to her waist; she pressed herself against me, pantied pussy against my denim-clad leg. I pushed back, and little moans escaped from between her lips and our kiss as I applied pressure between her legs. The girl was writhing, desperate with longing, and I guessed that perhaps she’d been without sex for as long as I had.
I slid my hands down to her hips and felt her cotton underwear beneath my palms. I broke the kiss and looked at her, and the question was in my eyes. “Yes,” she whimpered, so softly, so quietly. And then, so low that it seemed part of the sigh she let out with it, the two words I love so much and which I can’t deny: “Fuck me.”
I’m a sucker for those words. Fuck me. Yes, I will. I slid her panties down, over her hips, down her legs, and left them hanging from one ankle. I love, when I’m pulling down a girl’s underwear, when there’s a little resistance — when it’s sticking to her, because she’s wet and I’ve been rubbing her through her clothes. Slays me. I moved down to put my head between her legs, but she grabbed my mop of messy hair and pulled me back up.
“No. Keep kissing me. Just fuck me.”
Yes, yes, I will listen to anything you say, oh goddess. I didn’t speak, I just pressed my mouth to hers and moved my hand clumsily between her legs. She rolled bursa escort bayan her hips up and wrapped her legs around me and I gently ran my fingertips over her labia — plump, yes, just as I’d imagined, and shaven. Holy fuck. She was planning this. She must have been; she was smoothly, freshly shaven.
I touched her, felt her out, and dipped my fingers between those smooth, soft lips. I found a well of wetness, a pool of warmth. She was slippery with it. I got my finger wet and slid it up, found her clit, and ran my fingertip over it; she let out a sweet little sound so I did it again, keeping my finger wet, flicking her gently. She started to whimper, and moan, and buck, and by now my lips were at her neck and not on her mouth and she begged. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…”
I plunged my middle finger into her, and she moaned with this deep release, and pushed her hips against me. I pulled out and pushed in again, not too deep, but with purpose; she pushed against me again, and I picked up the speed. I fucked her in deliberate strokes, and she was wet and warm and so welcoming. So responsive. “More,” she said, breathy, and I pulled out and pushed two fingers into her. Oh, the groan that came out of her — long and satisfied. She was breathing hard and fast and creating her own rhythm with the movements of her hips.
I curved my fingers, pressing against her g-spot, fucking her deep, hard, with a steady quick rhythm. She covered her mouth with her hand and moaned into her palm and wrapped her legs tighter around me, and I struggled to keep the rhythm even, struggled to press her in all the right places, and I felt her body tighten up like a coil. Tighter, tighter, all of her muscles flexing, the noises muffled by her palm shriller and faster, and then she clamped her thighs down around my body and started to come. I kept thrusting, kept moving my hand into her, pushed hard at her g-spot. She came, and gasped and moaned and writhed and pulled me tight with her legs and came again.
And then she released me, unwound her legs from around me, and I pulled my fingers out of her. She made a little whimper of protest but I knew she couldn’t have handled any more anyway. She was limp, smiling, half-lidded. I kissed her neck and she wrapped her arms around me and snuggled her face into mine.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet and dreamy. “I needed that more than you can imagine.”
I laughed a little. “Actually… I needed that more than you can imagine, sweet thing. You have no idea.”
Anja and I laid there on the couch for a few moments longer before we remembered where she were and she pulled her panties up and we finished our tea. Needless to say, the rest of my time in that hostel was pleasant and full of little adventures. I think Anja did end up going to France to stay at her father’s place after she left New Zealand. I’ve got her on Facebook and we talk every once in a while but she’s got some super cute rural French boyfriend who writes books or something, so it’s really just pleasantries we exchange. I like to think that if we ever saw each other again she’d let me take her to bed for an afternoon, or maybe we’d just have tea and a good conversation.