My bed as a safe space, with Colleen m/f

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calebtras
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My bed as a safe space, with Colleen m/f

Post by calebtras »

My bed as a safe space, with Colleen

Colleen and I met on a corner and headed to the basketball court around six. Back in the day in my working class Irish neighborhood in Brooklyn, teenagers had to eat dinner with their families, so the high school guys and gangsters who drove to the basket like Mack trucks were at home. Luckily my mother and Colleen's father didn't care about family, so she and I could get a game.

Colleen at 14 was wiry and quick; her game was fast feet and nimble hands. When a guy was doing his custom between the legs crossover move, she'd slap the ball away. I was slow, couldn't rebound, but I could no-look pass and had a sweet outside jumper. Choosing sides, I'd make the first shot from the foul line to be captain, choose a tall guy who could take passes and set picks, take Colleen last, and we could win and hold court until the bruisers came back from dinner.

Problem was, some guys don't like it when a girl gets a step on them for an easy layup or slaps the ball out of their hands. I didn't see what happened, but I heard Colleen yell, “Fuck!” and turned to see her throw a punch that hit this short guy—little guys got most to prove—in the shoulder. I was there in an instant and got a solid right to his ear, but not before he punched Colleen in the eye. The bigger guys pulled us apart, one saying, “This ain't no ant-weight boxing, assholes, it's basketball.”

I pulled Colleen away. “Let's go.”

She tore free, saying, “Fuck that. I ain't lettin' some tiny dick run me off the court.”

“You wanna go home lookin' like the Hulk, with your eye swoll up black and green?”

She calmed down and let me lead her off the court. I took her to the corner bodega and bought a chocolate ice cream in a dixie cup. We sat on the stoop thumb wrestling, while she held the ice cream cup against her eye. When it melted we shared it.

“Your eye's probably gonna turn bad,” I told her.

Colleen didn't carry a mirror, so she looked in a dark window. “Shit. My dad said next time he caught me my face messed up, he'd make me take a punch where it don't show. He says girls don't fight. I told him, yeah, back in olden days when you was growing up.”

Girls pulled hair, scratched, and screamed, but they generally didn't get black eyes. “Tell him it was a guy, he pushed you first, you were tougher. If you were his son, he'd be proud of you.”

She snorted. “Yeah, great endorsement. That'll work, tell him shit like that.”

I knew her dad was a hard-ass who hated Colleen's tom-boy ways, but she was a hard-ass herself. I was better at words than she was. “It wasn't your fault. Maybe if I explain how it happened, he'll ease up on you.”

She looked at me like I was crazy. “Nah. I ain't goin' home. He leaves for work at nine. My ma goes to sleep after Johnny Carson, 1 o'clock. I sneak in, leave in the morning no one seein' me, by the time I get home tomorrow night, my eye's better, I cover it with make-up.” [In our native Brooklynese, “by deh time I ged 'ome tuhmarruh night, my eye's bettuh, I covuh id wid' may-gup.”]

“It's gonna be freezin' 1 o'clock. Come home with me, I'll walk ya home at 1.”

She stared at me. In our neighborhood then, Catholic girls couldn't even do sleepovers at their girlfriend's.

“I got my own room in the back. My Ma don't never come in. She won't even know.” I added, “I got ice cubes for your eye.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “You think you're gonna cop a feel, like you been tryin' to.”

We'd been going out for over a year and she hadn't let me go beyond basic making out. “Promise I won't.”

“You ain't tying me up, neither.”

She had let me tie her hands while we made out a half dozen times. She was actually safer in my room than some of the crazier places around town we'd made out. If she said “cut it out” loudly, my mother would burst in screaming like a banshee, not because she cared what I was up to, but because I woke her up. “Okay, deal.”

We went to my block, climbed the fire escape of an abandoned building, crossed the roofs to my building. We took off our sneakers and hung them from our necks to climb silently down to my room. I opened the window and we slipped in.

I went into my mother's bedroom—she'd taken the larger living room—and annoyed her while she was watching TV so Colleen could slip into the bathroom. Then I microwaved some left-over potatoes, peas, and pot roast and got a glass of ice, and took it back to my bedroom. I didn't have a lock, so I jammed a wedge of cardboard under the door. While we ate, Colleen iced her eye.

“I'm gonna put on pajamas,” I said. “I got an extra. You want?”

“Lemme see.” She looked in my underwear drawer and began rummaging through, like it was hers. She pulled out a black t-shirt with a photo of The Police. “I'll wear this.” It came down to middle of her thigh.

I sang, “Every move you make, Every step you take, I'll be watching you,” and she rocked hip and shoulder bumps.

“I'm sleeping right side up, and you're down there,” she said, pointing at the foot of the bed.

I stuffed some underwear in a t shirt to use as a pillow, turned off the light, and got in under the covers, head at the foot of the bed. She got in and said, “Move over,” putting her cold foot against my side for emphasis. I slid all the way to the wall.

“Don't think I owe you,” she said. “You pull anything, I'm out the window.”

By then, she trusted me, but wanted me to know, sharing a bed didn't change her rules. I said, “Okay.”

I closed my eyes and tried to behave, but lying beside Colleen was torture. I tickled her foot and she kicked my hand away. I waited a moment, then slid my leg next to her arm. She didn't move away. I rubbed her ankle with two fingers, and when she didn't object, I slid my hand along her leg. She pinched my thigh as if to warn me off, but just hard enough for me to like it. I kissed her toes.

“Okay, if you're gonna be a pain in the ass, do it up here,” she said.

When I spun around, and lay next to her, she turned and faced me. We kissed. I pulled her on top of me, so she'd feel safer, and we made out. I wanted to see her. I slid out and turned on my lamp, throwing t-shirts over it to dim it, so my mother wouldn't notice.

“How's my eye?” she asked.

It was purple and swollen. “Awful.”

She grinned, making it looked worse, and I realized it wasn't her beauty that I found so magnetic, but the way she was. We made out for a long time, kissing and caressing. I was wearing thin, cotton pajamas, so she could feel my response, but neither of us said anything. I didn't think about what I couldn't do, so caught up in the sensations of my lips and fingers along the curve of her neck, her shoulder's firmness, the line of her jaw, her smoothness, softness, hard places, her salty taste and acrid real girl smell.

This was before internet porn and neither of us knew what we were doing. Each time we were together, we stroked a new spot, moved a different way, like free dancing while staying close. The first couple times, we were just playing around, but for me it quickly became more than that. We'd made out in any corner of New York City where we, as fourteen-year-olds, could snatch a moment's privacy—on sand, concrete, against a brick wall. The intimacy of my bed had disconcerted her, at first, but I knew she was relaxed when she bit and sucked my neck; and Colleen never did things halfway. I guided her to the crook of my neck where I could hide marks she'd make. She lay on me, and I slid my legs under hers, pressing down on her butt. Her arms were around my neck, and I took them, slid them down and crossed them behind her, so her whole weight was on me as we kissed.

“Okay,” she said. “You can tie me up.”

The final piece that made everything come together. I went to my chest of drawers and got my church tie, which I didn't use anymore. I crossed her arms behind her, wrist to elbow. The tie was soft and stretchy, so I could pull it tight without hurting her. We kissed, her shirt pulled up, and I could feel her warmth all up and down me. I think she had me tie her up because she'd realized I'd been self-conscious being in bed with her, overly cautious, trying too hard. When I wrapped my arms around her and held her bound hands, I lost my mind and just did what I felt, responding to what she did, as if we became one moving body with two beating hearts.

She ended up staying the whole night and we got very little sleep. The next morning, she dressed, I opened the window, and she knelt on the fire escape. I could tell she'd forgotten her black eye, when she smiled and kissed me lightly over and over again, as if not wanting to leave. We locked eyes and she studied me, as if seeing me for the first time, feeling about me the way I'd always felt about her.
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Damsel-Dilara-Dee
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Post by Damsel-Dilara-Dee »

I found this story very endearing, and enjoy your other stories about you and Colleen.
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Canuck100
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Post by Canuck100 »

Lovely
Mr Underheel
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Post by Mr Underheel »

[mention]calebtras[/mention] Very nice! I like the natural conversations in it. Very different
AlexUSA3
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Post by AlexUSA3 »

Simple ties, cute cuddles, and fun personalities. That's the way a happy relationship goes.
CGC Short Stories (F+f+/F+f+): viewtopic.php?f=8&t=20527
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!

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