One Thing Leads to Another

Leaving him on the table, she threw a bag of Orville Redenbacher’s finest into the microwave, before scooting off down the hall. When she returned, she was wearing an oversized blue/green/white man’s flannel button up shirt hanging almost to her knees, a flash of white cotton undies and a pink pair of fluffy slippers. Her long brown hair was loose and spilled down over her shoulders onto her back. She was also carrying a multi-colored knitted blanket under her arm. Dropping the blanket on the couch, she took the popcorn out of the microwave, opening it carefully to release the steam, before pouring it into a large clear plastic bowl. Grabbing a can of Coke Zero from the fridge, she took it and the bowl into the living room and came back for him.

“The Notebook?” she asked.

He looked down at her abysmal collection of Blu-ray discs. Honestly, he didn’t really care which movie she chose, he just wanted her to feel comforted. “Sure,” he replied, smiling.

Plugging the movie in, she returned to the couch, reclining against the padded arm and curling her feet up under her before laying the blanket across her lap.

“Pocket?” she offered, pointing to the one on the left side chest of the shirt.

“Sure,” he said.

Setting him down near the pocket, she waited for him to get situated before retrieving the bowl of popcorn.

Crawling into the pocket, he could instantly tell she wasn’t wearing a bra, able to feel the texture of her aureole and nipple through the soft fabric. Rather than make an issue of it, he shifted to his right and nestled inside the cozy pocket, leaving his arms overtop the edge and giving him a good view of the television set.

Carefully reaching for the bowl, she set it on the blanket, taking out one piece and offering it to him.

Taking the single popped corn in both hands, he studied it a moment, the thing the size of a basketball in his hands. Shrugging, he took a bite.

As the movie began to play, they settled in to watch. Through one of the drier bits, they began to talk.

“Is it scary being so small?” she asked, curious what it must be like to be so tiny.

“At first I was so scared,” he answered honestly, “I didn’t know what to do. I was in an absolute state of panic. Thank goodness for Tess, she saved me. As time progressed and I realized I might be stuck like this for a while, I began to realize there are a wealth of adventures and experiences available to me that no one has ever had a the opportunity to explore before.”

“Your sister is very nice and unbelievably pretty,” Cassie replied. “Is she older or younger than you?”

“Older by almost a year and talking about pretty, forgive me for saying, but you are very hot. Whoever the guy was that took a flier on you is obviously an idiot,” he said, shaking his head and making a sour expression on his face.

She chuckled, “You are very kind for saying so,” she replied. “But what about you? Handsome, suave, why no steady girlfriend?” she inquired.

He paused a moment, as if considering his answer. “I had the hugest crush on Janine, the blonde girl you found me with, on, in, um, you know, anyway I had it pretty bad for her before my ‘little’ accident,” he said, amused at his joke.

“Had the hugest crush?” Cassie asked.

 He chuckled, “Now, she’s pretty huge and could easily crush me,” he replied.

She laughed softly, “True. Judging by your condition, she was pretty rough on you,” she said, gently tracing the side of his exposed right arm with the tip of her right index finger.

“She is less and more than I ever imagined her to be,” he answered, noncommittal, reaching over with his left hand to pat the side of her finger.

“Hmm,” she noised, “You aren’t mad at her?”

Rolling onto to his side, so he could look up at her, he chuckled, “Not really, no I guess. My time with her was both some of the most exciting and most harrowing experiences I’ve ever had in my life. Mad? No,” he answered. “Scared, assuredly.”

She tussled his hair.

Looking at his arm, he frowned, “You got greasy popcorn finger,” he accused, touching the shiny skin where she had touched him.

She removed her hand, looking at her finger and then laughing, “I’m sorry,” she said, putting the finger into her mouth.

Sliding back up out of the pocket, he examined his arm, sniffing it before turning his head away. “Yep,” he nodded, tone resigned, gravitas lessened by the huge smile on his face.

Removing her finger from her mouth, big grin on her face, “I said I was sorry,” she repeated. Reaching down, she took him gently in her hand, bringing him closer to her mouth and taking his arm between her lips, flicking at his appendage with the tip of her tongue in an attempt to cleanse the butter from him.

Pulling his arm away, “Ugh,” he said, making a sour face. “Now it smells like chewed popcorn and butter,” he grinned wickedly, then suddenly darted inside the narrow opening of the collar to her shirt, sliding down the gentle valley between her breasts, before moving to her left, little fingers tickling her as he moved. She laughed and twisted to the side, the motion throwing him up against the inside of the shirt and spilling him down her side pinning him between her flesh and the fabric of her shirt.

“Hold still!” she urged, hoping she hadn’t accidentally hurt him, rapidly unbuttoning her shirt and slipping out of it before moving away from where he landed. “Are you alright?” she asked.

Laying there, he touched his hand to his mouth and mimed blowing her a kiss.

She shook her head. Bared breasts swaying slightly with the action. “You are a troublemaker,” she accused playfully.

The sly grin returned. “I can totally see your boobs,” he said, pointing a finger.

Abashed, she pulled the blanket up and covered herself, a hint of crimson coloring her cheeks as the popcorn bowl flipped over, showering the couch in a snow storm of popped kernels.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed, trying to catch the bowl as it clattered toward the carpeted floor.

Tom laughed, batting at the kernels with his hands as they rained downed near him.

Shaking her head at the failed attempt to catch the bowl and the resulting mess, she wasn’t aware the blanket had shifted, partially exposing a portion of her left breast.

Tom started moving toward her. She watched as he clambered over the folds of fabric and across the blanket, then scale upward toward her partially bared breast. Pulling the blanket back slightly, he traced the aureole of her breast with the fingertips of his right hand, sending little shivers through her skin.

“What are you doing?” she asked, making no motion to stop what he was doing.

He grinned, but said nothing as her nipple began to stiffen.

Looking down at this young man, touching her, she felt torn. He was so young, so small, but the sensation was electric. Should she yield to the desire swelling inside of her, or should she resist. She didn’t know what to do.