Decades

Scars

She enjoyed feeling his arms tighten around her. It was familiar, but at the same time, it didn't feel familiar at all. It had been so long, and they knew going into this that it would be too easy to get sucked into old habits, so they agreed to treat each other like good friends, siblings even, they'd joked. As he buried his head in her golden locks, inhaling her intoxicating scent, she felt his hand running through her waves.

She had a warm, not at all unpleasant feeling. Lindsey did not feel like a brother at all. She knew this meant it was time to pull away from this physical contact before she was overcome.

As she loosened her grip on him, she felt his arms tighten even more. Without a conscious thought, she was leaning into his arms and hoping he'd never set her aside again. Eventually, they awkwardly laughed and disentangled themselves. Neither found this a natural act. The ever-present yearning for each other was so much worse when they were in this close proximity and could feel the electricity traveling between them.

Stevie adjusted her silky, off-the-shoulder top, reached her hand to her shoulder, and fingered a tiny crescent moon-shaped scar there. Lindsey's eyes followed her hand and was surprised to see that the little scar hadn't faded completely but was a silvery echo of another time.

She remembered in their early days how she couldn't get enough of this man. His wild curls and intense blue eyes were like a magnet to her groin. He could simply look at her from across the room and give her a panty-dropping smile, and she was ready to take her clothes off. Their habit of fucking each other with their eyes, no matter where they were, was a hard one to break. She doesn't know that it was a habit they ever completely broke.

One afternoon, long before Fleetwood Mac, after taking a stroll in the park, they sat at a concrete picnic table to work on some lyrics. The afternoon had been warm, and the picnic table had absorbed the day's heat as the sun was beginning to sink lower. She laid down on the table, feeling that warm heat on her back and a hand on her leg, finding its way higher and higher. She groaned deliciously, knowing where those magical fingers were heading.

As she lay there, already wet with anticipation, Lindsey's fingers deftly unbuttoned her low-rise, cut-off shorts. She raised her hips a little so he could slide them down. They still had her thighs trapped in them, but she was able to spread her legs enough to allow this delicious man access. He lay beside her on his side propped up on his elbow and twisted a strand or two of her hair in his hand. She coquettishly wiggled her hips to remind him that's where his attention should be focused.

He kissed her neck and ear, his hand playing at her bare belly and beneath the flowy top that tied between her breasts. For now, he wasn't offering attention to the area where she needed it most. He enjoyed her frustration. He liked it when she asked for what she wanted. This had been harder for her in the beginning, but he insisted she not be self-conscious with him. There was something Lindsey found gratifying and so sexy about her wanting him to pleasure her and asking for it.

He loved that they knew each other's bodies so well, and she had trusted him with all of the information about hers. Countless hours were spent experimenting on each other.

"Does this feel better? Or does this?"

"Do you like it harder? Deeper? Faster?" 

"Tell me what you need, baby."

She begged, a little breathlessly, "Touch me." And so he did. But, just barely. Over the top of her panties, he grazed her mound and then further between her legs lightly. She pushed her thin hips forward, looking for more pressure, more friction. But he didn't allow her to chase his hand. In fact, he gave her hip a little smack and told her to behave herself if she wanted any release today.