Pushing Too Far

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Does it count if he's her boyfriend? Does it count if she wasn't sure? Does it even matter?

Submitted: April 17, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 17, 2012





“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispers into my ear.

His weight is leaning into me and I can’t help but feel disgusted. I was almost half his size in width. I say it doesn’t matter, but it does. I want someone that had definition and isn’t all soft around the edges.  Looks aren’t everything, but they don’t hurt.

My bare legs rub against the thin, dark blue material he wears. I hear it brush against the cupboards behind me as my back cuts into the countertop.

“We might get caught,” I say, looking over his thick shoulder to make sure nobody has walked into the kitchen.

He gives me a half smile that makes his blue eyes look even smaller. “They’re outside still. Your dad’s playing with the kids and his girlfriend is helping with the food.”

“Chrissy,” I correct. “She has a name.”

Smiling, he goes in for another kiss. I’m able to get lost in it as I am all the time. His tongue pushes against mine and I push back. I can feel his erection through his pants and my jeans. I blush knowing it’s there, but I was still afraid to go further than I already have. It pushes harder against me. I tried what he wanted me to do earlier that day, but the phrase “hand job” still makes me giggle. I know that if I can’t even mentally say it, I’m in no way ready to perform it.

My best friend gave one last year, in ninth grade. I’m just out of tenth grade and still feel weird about all of the other things we do. He was the first guy I “made out” with, the first one to push his hands up my shirt and touch my B-cup breasts, the first guy where I pretended to enjoy the fumbling about, the first (and only) one to suggest phone sex, the first (and only) that I said I’d go with it, and the first to push things further.

His hand slides down my back and to the waistband of my jeans and then further, hand planted right on my butt. I giggle and pull his hand away. It was too much and too far.

“I need you,” he whispers, hot in my ear. I feel my excitement course through my body. It’s nice to hear that.

I move against him which elicits a moan. I smile at the noise I’ve got used to hearing. It’s a power I have just found.

He moves his hands down my stomach as he pulls me into a deep kiss. His hands push down further. Panic replaces pleasure. Am I ready?

I shake my head. “No, not yet,” I tell him.

“Please Emma. I really want to. Just once,” he begs.

I just shake my head in response. I want to, but not like this, not here. I know it wasn’t that big of a deal, I mean it was just fingering. (I giggle at the phrase) Sex is the biggest deal; even oral sex is bigger than this. It isn’t that I don’t want to; it’s that I’m still embarrassed at the thought of him being down there.

“No,” I tell him and he takes his hands away.

“Hey guys!” I hear my dad call out. I blush even though he obviously hasn’t seen anything. He’s all the way at the sliding glass door.

I walk over to the living room to show that we’re still clothed. “Yeah?”

“Get in the car, we’re leaving soon,” he says.

I nod with a bit of an eye roll. Soon meant at least fifteen minutes, but I wasn’t going to complain. Fifteen minutes meant making out in the car for the time until my brother came in and sat with us.

We walk out to the car and sit in the backseat. I lean into him as always and he meets my mouth with his.

At the time, I was sure making out was constant. There was no pulling away or taking breaks. It’s just a constant wrestle of tongues. It’s disgusting.

His hands are going south again. I push them away. He smiles and goes again. This time I don’t push away.

I look at him and meet his eyes. “No,” I tell him.

He smiles and leans in to kiss me. I kiss him back. His hand goes down further.

“No!” I say again, this time with a bit of a whine but I don’t look at him. I just watch his hand as it brushes against sensitive skin that nobody has touched besides me.

Then it happens. His fingers part sensitive folds before moving in deep. I can’t help the jump and gasp that follows. He doesn’t press, but pushes. He pushes deep inside with two fingers. I’m not sure if it hurts or feels good or is just different.

I do the only thing I know he likes. I moan and repeat his name. Then he stops and pulls them out.

I give him a smile and he smiles back. He places the used fingers up against his lips. I don’t want to watch and yet I do. He gives his finger one long lick. “I think that could be something we do another time,” he says and smiles.

It catches up to me. I’m in the back seat of my dad’s car. The gray, leather interior is hot against thighs. I swallow.

“I said no,” I tell him, weakly. I wasn’t sure if I was doing this because I was upset or if I was just looking for attention again.

I always am looking for attention. I just want a guy to care for me and dote on me. I want him to be like the guys are in my books. I don’t think this is how he’s supposed to be. Even if it’s reality.

He looks like he was caught, but then shrugs. “You looked like you liked it. And you never pushed my hand away. I thought that meant you really wanted it.”

“I wasn’t sure,” I say in a small voice.  I could have pushed him away, but I didn’t. Is no really no if you’re not sure what you want?

I push myself as far away from him as I can and curl up. He looks out the window and the hurt look on his face pains me. I didn’t stop him. It wasn’t his fault.

My dad and brother slide into the car. Devon teases me and my dad tells him to cut it out.

I take a breath and slide back over and cuddle into arms I’ve become used to. He wraps his arms around me, but doesn’t kiss me on my head. That’s what’s supposed to happen, but it doesn’t. I stare out at the sunset and focus on that.

I push myself further against him. There’s some form of comfort and it’s not like he did anything. I didn’t push him away, right? I was just being dramatic, right?

It’s not rape or anything. He didn’t try to have sex with me. I wasn’t sure if there’s even a word for this. He went too far, but I didn’t push him away.

If I really didn’t want it, I would have pushed him away and not just say no. I was just giving myself an excuse to be angry at him. That’s all I wanted, was the attention. Right?





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