|Dying To Be With You
Author: Dill Wilson PM
It takes a brain tumor to bring Marrissa back into Liam's life.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Friendship - Words: 6,517 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 10-19-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3066912
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Dying To Be With You (R)
It started with headaches, painful relentless headaches that I attributed to too many helmet hits during football practice. Then I started feeling exhausted which I thought was from being on the go all the time with school, football practice, my part time job, and my attempts to be a social animal with my new girlfriend Shannon O'Hara.
I was popping Advil like they were candy to try to quell the headaches and I was sleeping ten to twelve hours a day just to stay awake long enough to get through school and football practice, skipping my evening shifts at Fontaine's Family Grocery Store because I just couldn't stay awake.
I was sitting in English class a week after these unusual symptoms started when Ms. Hardy asked me a question about the book we were reading. I started to speak but nothing came out of my mouth. It was the weirdest sensation – knowing what I wanted to say but not being able to get the words to form or transmit. I stared at Ms. Hardy who had a funny look on her face as she stood in front of the classroom watching me.
I heard a strange noise and when I glanced around the room and saw some of the students glaring at me with frightened stares I realized that the strange noises were coming from my mouth. Not words which was what I was trying to say, but grotesque gagging noises as if somebody had punched me in the throat.
"Liam?" Ms. Hardy was saying but my head was throbbing and pain was shooting all through my head.
The room began to spin and then everything went blank.
It was a brain tumor I was told a few days later when I regained consciousness in some specialty hospital outside of Boston, eighty miles from my home. My parents were trying to look brave and my sister was crying and I knew this was serious stuff.
We met a couple of doctors and during the next few days I was given all sorts of MRIs and medical tests and medicine while the doctors and my parents weighted my options. The doctors wanted to open up my head and see if they could stop some bleeding on my brain. It was a risky proposition but it might alleviate some of the symptoms I continued to exhibit – mumbled speech, headaches, and weakness on my left side. After consulting with my family, I told the doctors to go ahead and open me up.
They shaved my head and wheeled me into surgery two days later.
When I awoke from the surgery, the operation appeared to work because I was able to speak better and my head didn't hurt as much but I still felt tired and I suffered from some short term memory lost. I didn't remember the last few days before I was stricken in Ms. Hardy's English Class or even playing in our first football game of the season. My speech was slightly garbled – almost as if I spoke with a lisp - and my eyesight was slightly blurred making it difficult to focus on written words. It was like trying to read through a sheet of plastic. There was also numbness in my fingers and feet.
Then came the bad news: although the doctors had removed a cyst on my brain, they determined that there was a growth inside my brain that was inoperable. Chemo was also not an option. It was unclear whether the tumor had stopped growing but the doctors were hopeful the experimental medication they were giving me would help.
Despite the uncertain prognosis, when it was determined that I was stable enough, I was discharged home, walking out of the hospital with a club foot. But my football career was over. I had already missed nearly three weeks of classes and there was no point of returning because I couldn't focus on the material and I had a hard time remembering certain things…..the day of the week, the date, my street address number.
While nobody was saying it, I had a feeling that I was much sicker than my parents and doctors were letting on. Would the brain tumor continue to grow and eventually kill me after turning me to a vegetable unable to function? It was not a subject anybody was willing to talk about, including me!
The gravity of my illness weighed heavily on my mind as I lay around the house feeling sorry for myself. My parents worked and my kid sister Alice had school so I was home alone most of the day although I had one of those medical alert necklaces and my mother called me ten times a day.
I was frightened and depressed. I didn't do much except watch television, lying down because my head tended to spin if I stood too long. I couldn't text because my numb fingers didn't have any feeling in them and after five or ten minutes on the computer my eyes began to blur.
I was at my lowest emotionally. My football buddies and other pals came by to cheer me up but after a few weeks they stopped coming, busy with their own lives and having nothing left to say to me. I was a war casualty, removed from the battlefield of life, quickly forgotten as if I had never existed in the first place.
Shannon stopped by one day to tell me that she "hadn't signed on for this" and she basically dumped me for getting sick. My promising senior year of a possible football championship and all the thrills and events of final year were suddenly gone, just like Shannon.
I was a mess. I lay in my bed most days waiting for the doctors to come up with some sort of prognosis or treatment plan or to tell me I was dying. I was brought to the hospital every week for more tests which I dreaded but accepted.
Finally, the family doctor leveled with me: If I was lucky, the tumor would shrink and my condition might improve. If I was unlucky, I was probably dying.
I had never faced this kind of challenge before and I was devastated by my situation. I had been at the peak of my game going into senior year but this illness ruined everything. I couldn't play football. I couldn't go to school. I couldn't drive or even leave the house. I couldn't work. I didn't have a girlfriend. Everything I took for granted had been taken from me.
My parents made me see a therapist, hoping to keep me from falling into a full blown depression but it was hard not to feel sorry for myself. My parents urged me to go out once in a while but I didn't want people looking at me. I felt self-conscious about my appearance, my mumbling, and my club foot. I didn't want to be a special needs guy requiring special accommodations and I didn't want anybody's pity.
My father took me out for rides anyway just to get me out of the house and my mother cooked me my favorite meals. My sister was nice to me and I was treated like royalty around the house but mostly I felt like an invalid, probably the way my grandfather did during the last few months of his life in the nursing home.
One afternoon, I was lying on bed staring at the wall when my kid sister poked her head through the door.
"There's somebody here to see you," Alice announced before disappearing.
A moment later, Marrissa Morrison stepped into the room.
"Oh great," I moaned. "I really must be dying if you're here."
The look on her face made me regret saying such a terrible thing but at this point I really didn't care anymore.
Marrissa and I used to be friends. She lived kitty-corner across the street from us and we grew up together. We used to walk to school together and hang out with the other neighborhood kids, playing the usual kid games, riding bikes and all the rest of it.
By Freshman year, Marrissa had matured into the prettiest girl around and she became popular overnight with some of the older guys at school. She didn't have time for a guy like me as she advanced up the social ladder of Hillsboro High. She was student council president, cheerleader, honor society member, theatre club star, and about a dozen other things I couldn't keep track of.
I asked her out a few times but she turned me down and when she started dating my arch-nemesis Paul McAndrews I treated her like shit out of spite and revenge. I went out of my way to embarrass her and undermine her credibility. I actively campaigned for the other guy against her in the student council races. I insulted her when she was cheering for the team. I was a jerk in every sense of the word and I didn't blame her when she stopped talking to me which was well over a year ago.
But now here I was a few days before Thanksgiving our senior year lying on my bed drawn and pale suffering from a brain tumor, knocked off my high horse and feeling pretty stupid for all the dumb things I had done and said to her.
"You've lost some weight," she observed as she stood by the open doorway.
"Must be the haircut," I joked.
"You don't look well."
"Thanks," I replied sarcastically. "I feel much better now that you've told me that."
"Are you going to still be mean to me even now?" She frowned.
"You started it," I grumbled.
"I didn't mean anything by it," she replied defensively.
"Okay," I said, holding my hand up realizing I didn't want to argue with her anymore. "Why are you here?"
"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she replied, sounding hurt and flustered.
"Why?" I asked, trying not to sound judgmental.
She shrugged but didn't answer.
"How are you?" I asked after a few moments of awkward silence.
"Okay," she said, forcing a smile as she looked at me lying on the bed like a corpse. "Big game Thursday."
"Yeah, I know," I sighed, still bummed I wouldn't be playing and had missed all but one game.
"Sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have mentioned that."
"It's okay," I said. "I know you're excited about it."
"I haven't really been thinking about it," I lied. (It had been all I thought about – how my glory year of high school football went into the crapper).
"That's so sad," she sighed. "You were one of the team's best motivating players."
I nodded but didn't say anything else.
"You can't come to the game?" She asked.
I had been resigned to the fact that I wasn't going anywhere these days. "I tire easily," I said.
She stepped closer to the bed. "Are you dying?" She asked nervously.
"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "Maybe."
Would my illness change our adversarial relationship? Could we go back to the way it was before jerk off Paul McAndrews came onto the scene? Maybe my being sick could bring us closer together.
"So, how's Paul?" I asked bitterly.
On the other hand, maybe it might get worse.
Marrissa stared at me with annoyance. "Don't worry about Paul," she advised. "This is between you and me."
"Look, I appreciate you stopping by but you don't have to feel sorry for me," I said.
"I don't," she replied quickly, taking a seat in my computer chair and staring at me. "I feel sorry for me."
I wasn't sure what she meant by that but it really didn't matter what she said anyway because I couldn't take my eyes off of her. God she was beautiful. She had thick dark black hair that hung below her shoulders, deep brown eyes, a dimple on her chin and a beauty mark on her right cheek. She was eloquently beautiful and I had been in love with her for years. I hated Paul McAndrews for coming between us.
"Do you want to talk about what's happening to you?" Marrissa wondered.
"I have a brain tumor," I replied.
"Your voice is affected," Marrissa observed.
"Yeah, just call me Mumbles," I joked. I lifted up my hands. "My fingers are numb. My feet are like lead pads. I have a club foot. Sometimes I forget stuff. I can't read long or go on the computer 'cause my vision goes blurry. I sleep a lot. I'm kind of drugged up."
"But other than that you're okay?" She joked.
I honestly laughed for the first time in a long time and she smiled in return.
"I like you haircut," she said, commenting on my bald spot on the side of my head where the incision had been made. Most of the rest had grown back although my hair was still boot camp short.
"I usually wear a hat," I said, rubbing the scar.
"You should come to the game," she said, standing. "It would be great to see you there."
"Those days are over," I said, watching as she walked toward the door. "Nobody cares about me anymore."
"You know that's not true," she shot back, sounding offended.
Thanks for coming," I told her with sincerity.
She nodded and disappeared from the room as stealthily as she had arrived and I was glad she came. Funny how it took me be possibly dying for her to come back into my life.
My parents were thrilled about me going to the Thanksgiving game, encouraged that I was finally willing to do something…..anything but I was apprehensive about being seen in public. I didn't want people staring at me and I didn't want to distract from the game and all the pre-game ceremonies.
My father called Coach and they arranged to have me arrive late and sit in the press box, at least for the first half if I could make it that long.
So I got bundled up on Thanksgiving morning. It wasn't that cold – mid 40s with dark clouds and a blustery wind. My father drove me to the hometown athletic field and my sister helped me through the gate. I was eyeing the press box wondering if I had enough strength to get up the ramp when suddenly three band members and two cheerleaders – including Marrissa Morrison – rushed over and grabbed me.
"You're coming with us," Marrissa announced.
Then I heard the familiar PA Announcer, Mr. Roberts.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please draw your attention to the far end zone where members of the Hillsboro High School Band and Cheerleading Squad are escorting player Liam Jacobs onto the field."
A roar of applause erupted from the Stands.
"Liam, #87 in your program and #1 in our hearts, has been unable to participate due to illness but the Hillsboro Hurricanes are humbled and honored to have their teammate with them today," Mr. Roberts said.
The entire football team ran down the sidelines and circled me, giving me back pats and 'Oo-rah's. I felt myself getting a little teary eyed and I tried to high five some of my closest teammates but my coordination and strength was off and I sort of missed.
"Let's win this for Liam!" My buddy Jared Provost yelled and the team broke out in loud cheers.
"See, people care," Marrissa remarked as she and the others helped me off the field to where my sister was waiting for me.
I had a hard time making it up the steep ramp to the press box but it was a great view and I made it to half time. Hillsboro was leading Arch Rival Greenville 18-16 at the half when my father came to get me. There was a fatigue factor to my illness in that I could only extend myself for a few hours before I would be overcome by exhaustion and have to take a nap to regenerate my energy.
We had the game on the car radio during the ride home and I fell asleep to it while I lay on my bed in my room. The game was over when I woke up a few hours later but I learned we won 30-27 and that made me feel good.
I spent most of the afternoon lying on the couch watching football on the television and dozing. I was able to sit at the table and enjoy my mother's wonderful Thanksgiving Dinner later in the afternoon but, having stuffed myself to the gourd, I required another nap.
I'm not sure how long I slept but I felt a presence in my room. At first I thought it was my mom when I opened my eyes but then I realized it was Marrissa standing there with a plate of pie in each of her hands.
"Your mom told me to bring you some dessert," she said.
I sat up in the bed surprised to see her.
"Shouldn't you be with Paul?" I asked. "It's Thanksgiving night."
"I told you not to worry about Paul," She said, handing me one of the plates before taking a seat in the computer chair.
"Thanks for coming over," I said, even though my head was hurting more than usual on this night. "And thanks for doing what you did for me at the game this morning."
She nodded and went on to talk about the big win and how great it was to beat arch rival Greenville our senior year.
"Sorry you couldn't play," she concluded.
"I saw Shannon with Bobby Collins," she reported.
"She couldn't handle this," I informed Marrissa. "I guess I can't blame her," I added with a sigh.
"I can," Marrissa replied. "She's a coward."
I glanced at Marrissa and smirked. "I guess she's pretty shallow, huh?"
"You knew that," Marrissa replied. "You just wanted a babe on your arm for senior year."
I couldn't help but laugh, surprised at how well Marrissa knew me despite our recent separation.
"Did you have a good Thanksgiving?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said. "Thanks for asking."
"Today was the first day I actually did something since all this happened," I said. "It was fun."
"But it wiped me out," I said. "I have no stamina any more."
"That sucks," Marrissa sighed.
"What are you doing the rest of the weekend?" I asked.
She shrugged and I knew that meant she was hanging out with Paul.
"I appreciate you coming over like this," I said. "I don't get out much."
"I don't mind," she said with a smile.
"Even though I treated you like shit these last few years?"
"You had you reasons," she said but I decided not to follow up on that.
Fact was, I didn't give a crud about stupid Paul McAndrews anymore.
"I care about you," I said sheepishly.
"I know," she said, blushing slightly.
"So I want to hear about what's happening in your life, just like before when we used to talk all the time."
"Okay," she agreed.
"Hearing about stuff affirms that I'm still alive!" I said and once again I saw a look of dread and despair cross her face.
"What's left to talk about if we don't talk about you!?" I grinned.
"Liam, I don't know what to say about any of this," she sighed.
"Well, if you don't know what to say then I'm afraid the silence is going to be awful," I replied.
"I suppose," she agreed.
"I appreciate you doing this," I said.
"I've been thinking about you a lot since I heard how sick you were," Marrissa told me. "None of this can take away our memories or our friendship."
"Good," I smiled.
The pie was long eaten and I was beginning to feel fatigued again.
"Well, I should go, probably," Marrissa said, standing.
"Thanks for stopping by," I said from my bed. "Happy Thanksgiving."
"You too," she said, and I could see that her eyes had welted up.
"Its okay, Marrissa," I said, knowing how sickly and pathetic I must have looked.
She rushed from the room and I fell back on my bed with a heavy sigh. This really did suck.
Practice for the Girl's Basketball team started after the Thanksgiving break which meant Alice wouldn't be around after school anymore but Marrissa told my mother that she would be glad to stop by in the afternoon to check in on me.
It became the highlight of my day. Marrissa had her own key and she let herself in after school, barging into my room to tell me all about her day. It was something I looked forward to and it was nice that we were talking again. I never asked about Paul anymore and she skillfully omitted him from most of her conversations. She'd just say "we" and I knew who she meant.
There was one afternoon when I was feeling kind of down as I listened to Marrissa go on about all the great things she was doing at school and she must have picked up on it because she stopped talking and stared at me from her seat on my computer chair.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"Nothing," I said. "It's funny though," I admitted. "I have all these memories of friends but now they don't want to be around me. I guess I'm just kind of sad about that."
"Well, I'm here," she pointed out.
"Yes, you are," I confirmed with appreciation. "Only God knows how lonely I'd be if you weren't. I know it's awkward for them but I miss the old times with the guys."
"I'm glad we re-connected, Liam," Marrissa said.
"Me too," I said.
"I'm thankful to be able to spend time with you like this," she said. "Not one day goes by that I don't think of you and every night I pray that you'll get better."
"Me too," I smiled.
She teared up and hastily excused herself for the day.
A few days later, Marrissa let herself in as usual and she asked if I need anything as I lounged on the bed. It hadn't been the greatest of days. I was feeling exhausted and my head hurt.
"Maybe some water," I said.
Marrissa went down to the kitchen and returned with a large glass of cold spring water but my hand was shaking like it often did and when I took the glass from her it spilled all over me and the bed.
"Shit," I moaned. "Damn it."
"I'm sorry," Marrissa said as she stood over the bed wide eyed.
"It's not your fault," I sighed.
"Here, get up," Marrissa said, helping me to my feet. "I'll change the sheets."
"You don't have to do that," I said as I struggled to maintain my balance.
"You should change your clothes too," she said, leaving the room to get some fresh sheets from the linen closet.
I felt dizzy so I sat on the computer chair in my wet tee shirt and sweats. Marrissa returned with the sheets and quickly made the bed. Then she went to my dresser and pulled out some fresh sweats.
"Here," she said.
I looked up and Marrissa's shining eyes were nervously staring at me.
"Can you help me?" I asked
"I'm really not doing so well today, Marrissa," I said.
She avoided eye contact as she helped pull the wet tee shirt off over my head. The water had also dumped into my lap and it looked like I had pissed in my pants. She tentatively pulled down my sweats but she accidentally took my underwear with them.
"Wait…." I said, trying to stop her from exposing me.
"Oh, sorry," she said. "But they were wet too," she added as further explanation.
"I would have had you leave the room," I said as I sat there on the chair with everything exposed.
"It's okay," she said. "You're sick."
I immediately went hard even though I knew that was the worse thing that could have happened at that moment.
"Sorry," I said with horrible embarrassment, not expecting that to happen.
"Don't worry about it," she replied and then she glanced up at me. "I guess I should be flattered."
I knew my face had turned beat red.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
"Yeah, I guess."
She paused and looked down again to see my hard exposure.
"Why don't you move to the bed," she suggested.
She helped me out of the chair and I couldn't believe I was stark naked in front of Marrissa Morrison. She helped me to the bed and I sat on the edge. She was still holding my fresh sweats.
"Could I have those?" I asked, feeling awkward and vulnerable sitting there totally naked.
"Why don't you lay down?"
"Why?" I asked with confusion.
Her eyes looked into mine with a smile before she dropped her eyes to my lower region, resting her gaze on my hard cock. "Maybe I can help make you feel better," she whispered.
I felt lust pour into my groin. I wanted to and needed to feel something good after everything I had been through but I couldn't believe that Marrissa was willing to do something like this.
She saw the look on my face and she gently pushed me back by putting her hands on my shoulders. "Its okay, Liam," she said quietly.
I fell back on the bed and saw that my dick was sticking straight up in the air
"Sorry about this," I said as it bounced to the beat of my heart.
"It's okay," she said, apparently unable to take her eyes off of it. She had a smirk on her face.
"You know I'm dying here!"
I meant with the situation I found myself in and not my medical condition, of course, but we both looked into each others eyes and I saw such sorrow in Marrissa's that I wanted to cry with her.
Then her eyes strayed back to my cock and I couldn't tell if she was being wary or lustful. Then she slowly reached her hand out and wrapped it around my shaft. I groaned as her hand slowly rubbed up and down my cock.
"Oh God!" I moaned with disbelief.
She stared at my cock and I humped my hips a few times, helping my cock slide up and down her hand and she began to pump harder up and down my rod.
"I can't believe I'm doing this!" She freely admitted with fascination.
"God! Thank you!" I managed to spit out as I lay my head back on my pillow and my eyes rolled in the back of my head.
Her hand picked up it's pace as she squeezed my reddening dick. I was at her total mercy and I knew I was so close to cumming. My balls tightened and my groin began to hum.
"Oh Marrissa, I'm gonna explode!" I yelled. "Your expert hand-job is fantastic.
Dont' stop! Don't stop! Don't stop!" I kept chanting.
Her hand twisted its way up the length of my cock and her palm glided over the meaty head of my dick and her fingers gripped the veiny shaft. I felt lava rising up my shaft.
"Wait, I just changed the sheets," she realized
Before I realized what she was doing, Marrissa slipped the head of my rod into her mouth just as my cum spewed forth. Twisting and pulling with her hands, she pumped my flowing sperm to her mouth, swallowing quickly and eagerly. It felt like my life was pouring into her and she was taking me. I was hers and I wanted to cry.
I lay there gasping as she sucked the last drops of cum from my cock, her eyes looking up at me from her position around my groin. After one last swallow, she released me from her mouth and licked her lips in a final expression of satisfaction.
She patted my softening penis with appreciation and then she handed me my clean sweats. "Let me help you get these on," she said.
I was spent and I could barely sit up. She helped me get dressed and then she tucked me under the clean sheets and sat at the edge of the bed staring at me.
"You look like you're falling asleep," she said.
"It's like this was a dream," I said.
"Oh, it was real, Liam, it was real," she smiled.
"Thank you," I whispered before falling asleep.
Marrissa was gone when I awoke and I had to wonder if it had all been a dream.
Marrissa continued coming by after school each day and even on the weekends for visits, updates, conversation, and company. Neither of us said anything about what had happened that day and sometimes I wondered if it had been some sort of mirage, my brain tumor playing tricks on me.
It was only a few weeks before Christmas now and while my energy continued to sag I was feeling pretty good in general. I slept a lot and sometimes I had trouble concentrating. I never knew what the date or day was sometimes I couldn't remember telephone numbers, birthdays and other easy milestones. I would draw blanks when it came to names and there were times when I had no idea how to turn on the television or change the channels.
The prognosis continued to be uncertain. I could tell the doctors were not pleased with the reoccurring and advancing symptoms and I see by the look on my parents faces after my latest visit to the specialists that things continued to look grim. My illness was progressing and there was nothing anybody could do about it.
Marrissa came over as usual after school the day after my latest troubling and disappointing doctor's appointment. There was a light snow falling outside the window but the house was warm. She took a seat on the edge of the bed and gave me a long look.
"How you feeling today?" She wanted to know and I knew she must have gotten the update from my mother.
"Okay," I guess," I answered. "I'm having a hard time remembering what's real and what isn't lately."
"What do you mean?" She asked.
"Like, did what I think happened between us really happen?" I asked with confusion.
"You mean did I give you a hand job into my mouth?" She asked bluntly.
"Yeah, that," I blushed.
"It really happened, Liam," she said sheepishly.
"What about Paul?" I asked, mentioning his name for the first time in a long time.
"Didn't I tell you not to worry about him?" She asked.
"Why'd you do it?" I asked.
Her eyes got watery and she looked away. "Because I wanted to," she whispered.
"Shh," She pleaded.
"Do you do that to Paul?" I had to ask.
"No," she said. "You were the first."
"Oh," I said with surprise. "Well, gee, thanks."
"Are you okay with that?" She asked quietly.
"It was my first time too," I admitted.
"I'm glad," she smiled. "I was hoping it was." She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
I was already so tired that I fell back onto the bed from my sitting position. With that she lifted the sheet, slipped under the covers and nestled her back in to my stomach. As she pushed back to curl against me, my cock started to harden against her bun crack and when I moved trying to conceal my erection she just wriggled back to regain her position.
"This is nice," I said.
"It is," she agreed.
"Promise you won't forget me," I whispered.
I heard her breath catch. "I promise," she said softly. There was a long pause. What about you?" She asked.
"I'll forget my name before I'll forget yours," I said.
Marrissa turned to face me, her lips almost touching mine. She put her arms around my neck. "You're my lovely."
"Your lovely what?" I grinned.
"Just my lovely," she said.
Having her face so close to mine, feeling her breath on my lips, and feeling her breasts pressing against my chest only made my erection bigger. She planted a kiss on my lips and flashed me a happy smile. I took one of her hands from around my neck and guided it down between my legs.
"Ooh" she smiled gamely.
She worked her hand inside my sweats and began to slowly rub me, pulling my foreskin back and playing her fingers over the head. I kissed her lips and explored her sweet mouth. The excitement was exhilarating and she continued to play with my rod as I put my hand under her sweater and worked my way to her breasts.
"Marrissa," I whispered as I found my way under her bra and began to fondle her breast.
As I teased one of her nipples, she sighed and lay back giving herself up to my intentions. I pushed my other hand down her pants to discover a soft almost hairless mound and my fingers opened her wet slippery slit.
"Can I see you?" I asked softly.
She nodded and pulled the covers back. Her hand abandoned my penis and she pulled off her sweater, tossing aside her bra with it. I marveled at her lovely chest as she stood from the bed to disregard her jeans and panties, standing before me naked as the day she was born.
"Thank you," I said, swallowing hard.
She turned her back to me and put her clothes on the computer chair as I appreciated her wonderful tush.
"Marrissa," I whispered again with longing.
She turned to face me and she lay back down on the bed on her side, facing me.
"Why wouldn't you date me before?" I asked.
"I was saving you," she admitted.
I spread her pussy lips with two fingers, stroking up and down and inserting one finger inside. Then I gently rolled her clit between my thumb and forefinger which caused her to buck and moan.
I pressed my lips against her ear. "It was always you," I whispered. "I want you to know that and always remember that."
She was crying now. "I will," she sobbed.
Holding her wonderful naked body against mine, I kept my mouth close to her ear while I continued to finger her. "I want you to know how wonderful you made me feel."
"Okay," she cried, the tears rolling down her cheeks.
I rolled her over on her back and moved down the mattress so my mouth was where my fingers had just been. I opened her pussy again with my fingers. She was already wet and I reached up and took one nipple in my fingers and played it around while her hand stretched down to grasp my hardening prick again which she stroked tenderly.
"I love you," I heard her say through her sobbing.
I responded by licking inside the length of her soaking pussy lips. I slid my tongue up and along her soaking slit and then I parted her lips with my thumbs to gain access to her inner sanctums. I pushed my tongue as far as I could into her slippery hole and then up to lick her erect clitoris.
Marrissa's moans of pleasure made me feel happy. I drew the bud of her clitoris between my lips and I tickled it with the tip of my tongue. Slipping two fingers into her, I began to finger fuck her while I increased the speed and pressure of my tongue on her clit. Within moments the shuddering of her whole body announced her orgasm as she floundered on the bed.
When her body calmed, I pulled myself back up the bed and kissed her sweet lips, my tongue roaming her mouth and letting her taste the sweet tang of her own intimate juices.
"Thank you, Liam," she sobbed, cupping my face in her hands and kissing me wetly before slipping her tongue between my lips.
I gently pushed her back and climbed on top of her. Positioning myself between her open legs, she showed no sign of fear or rejection when I pushed the head of my cock into her slippery tight pussy but then I pulled back.
"We don't have protection." I flopped by her side, totally frustrated.
"I don't care," she replied. "I want to do it. I want you to fill me up. I want you in me. I don't even care if I get pregnant. I'll have your baby."
"And I'll live on?" I asked.
She burst into new tears and I couldn't find the right words to answer her. For a while I just lay there in silence holding her for reassurance but then her hand found my cock.
"No regrets, Liam," she said. "Make love to me. Please."
As she leaned closer, I could feel her warm breath on me as she looked at me with her big brown pleading eyes. She bit her lip, tilted her head to the side and said, "Get me pregnant."
I pushed her onto her back again and I crawled on top of her so my forehead and lips were over hers. I felt her holding my rigid dick in her hand and then she gently guided me inside her.
"Oh, uh, wow," I heard her say.
"You're my first," I told her.
"It's okay," she said.
I knew I wasn't her first but I didn't care.
We started slow but Marrissa's moans grew louder and more intense with every push I made. I'd been on the verge of exploding for what seemed like forever so when Marrissa screamed, "Oh, God, Liam! I'm cumming!" I couldn't take it anymore and we came together without caring how loud the sound of our ecstasy was.
Our thrusts eventually slowed and our moans softly abated until Marrissa slumped beneath me and I collapsed on top of her, totally spent. It took several minutes before either of us could speak but Marrissa was staring into my eyes.
"I hope we just made a baby," she said.
All I could do was smile at the very thought of it.
I must have passed out because the next thing I remembered was waking up to find myself in bed, still naked, but alone. The room was dark and Marrissa was gone. I could hear the voices of my parents and Alice downstairs and I could have sworn I heard the laughter of Marrissa too.
The bedroom door opened and Marrissa entered carrying a tray with dinner on it.
"I'm glad you're still here," I said as I sat up in the bed. "I'm dying to be with you."
She stopped short and stared at me, her eyes once again filling with tears.
"Its okay, Marrissa," I said with a smile. "You've made me happy."