SOME OF MY FAVORITE THINGS
by Chris Beckett
Henry led the young girl through the field, the tall blades of grass tiny whispers on their arms as they moved away from the Pontiac parked on the soft shoulder. This was Henry’s favorite place in the world. Any new friends, particularly ones as pretty as Serena, were always introduced to this field. It lay down a long dirt road ten miles out of the city. Henry liked it for its solitude; there would be no reason to expect they would be interrupted.
Serena was a typical girl. Living in one of the piss-ant towns surrounding Brooks Harbor, she came to town for some excitement. And excitement was always on the menu for a seventeen-year-old who looked twenty-five and showed enough skin. She’d already been to three bars when Henry spotted her in Geaghan’s Pub. After fifteen minutes of conversation and two free drinks, he’d easily sheared the girl away from her friends as the two of them made their way outside to his Grand Am. She didn’t hesitate when he opened the door for her, and her hands roamed her body as they drove through the quiet streets.
Walking behind, Henry enjoyed the way her skirt rode up her thighs, the tight fabric molding softly to her round cheeks. The white t-shirt too was far too small, pressing snugly on her pert breasts. They were tiny, round and firm, braless nipples standing at attention, ripe fruits waiting to be plucked.
Henry could feel an aching in his groin as he licked his lips. Anticipation made his heart race, the blood pounding in his temples making his mind rush as the pressure built up. He could feel a prickling sensation at his fingertips as his arms began to twitch. Legs wanting to give way, he stopped and reached out for Serena’s arm.
“Right here. Let’s do it right here.”
She turned, her eyes glazed with alcohol, smiling lasciviously as she ran a moist tongue over bright red lips.
“How do you want me?”
A glint sparkled in her left eye as clouds pulled back from the moon above, and then just as quickly a new formation swept across the celestial spotlight. Henry welcomed the warm blanket of night that covered them, preferring the darkness for such things.
“On your back,” he said with a slight rasp. Her smile widened as she pulled off the white t-shirt, throwing it behind her where it landed on a bent sapling. Shucking off her sandals, Serena slid the skirt over her hips, letting it drop to the ground, revealing her lithe body for Henry to soak in.
Henry cupped his groin vigorously, unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside but left his shorts on. Serena lay down on the damp ground, her arms reaching out to invite him to her. Serena’s eyes fluttered as he lay on top of her, grinding his crotch against hers. He let his arms roam over her body, pinching her nipples before sliding his fingers over her soft shoulders, moving to the base of her neck.
Henry kissed her lightly on the lips as Serena softly breathed his name into the night breeze. She ran her long nails down his back and humped up against him.
“Please,” she whispered as she looked into his eyes, boring deeply into his soul. He smiled and shook his head, causing her to pout ridiculously. Pressing his crotch more strongly against Serena, Henry ran his fingers along the hollow below her chin. Serena’s head lolled back as a gasp escaped her, and Henry slowly wrapped his hands about her delicate neck.
Serena didn’t notice at first, all her attention was focused on the frenzied spasms clutching her middle. But soon ecstasy turned to anxiety and then to stark fear as she realized it was getting harder to breathe. Eyes wide with panic, Serena looked up into Henry’s and saw only black. His face betrayed no emotion as hands clenched more strongly. She tried to call out, to protest, but could no longer find the air necessary to do so. Kicking wildly, she tried to buck him off, but his weight was more than double her own and he only grunted dismissively at her futile attempts. She didn’t want to die, wondered if anyone would find her, would catch him, and worried about her mother discovering she’d gone bar-hopping in that mini skirt she detested.
•••
Afterward, Henry stood up. He retrieved his shirt from where it had dropped into the grass and buttoned it up meticulously. He considered returning Serena’s shirt, but thought it looked nice fluttering in the night air, the moon’s faint rays illuminating it like some ghost.
Running his fingers through his hair, Henry tucked his shirt into his waistband and walked back to the car, serenity returning to his features, the pressure relieved until next time.
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