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A few more movements on her part and I was panting. I tried to cover
it up, but I felt sure she must hear it. She must know, my body was
adding it's own motions, grinding the statue against my crotch. But I
bite down, suppressing the sounds trying to escape from my throat. I
fought to hide, not only from the pursuing frat members, but from the
girl who had quietly become my best friend.
Her fingers rested on my waist, and moved to my hips as she continued
to check for our victims. For myself, every touch she made brought
more heat to my cheeks. I could even imagine feeling her nipples
rubbing against my back. I prayed to myself for a soft gentle orgasm,
that she not know how her body had aroused me.
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She started to pop up and down, peering out through the branches,
pushing down on my hips. Every time she did this, I found myself being
pushed into a ridge on the back of the horse statue, my crotch
rubbing against the fabric of my jeans. After the first few times, her
hot breath on my neck in combination with the rubbing, I was beginning
to feel weak, I tucked my head against my chest while I held onto
Hickory tightly.
"I still see them," she whispered, her lips right up against my neck.
Goose bumps shivered down my spine. I could feel her holding herself
along the length of my back, her chest an interesting and soft
pressure from behind. My breath caught once, a red haze of warmth
flowing up my back, and down from my neck.
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"Hsst," Angie's warm breath whispered into my ear. "I'll try to
stretch, see if I still see them in the field below."
My view was obstructed both by tree and statue alike, so I simply
nodded. She humped herself up a bit, her hands on my hips. She soon
found a hole she could peek through, and dropped back down again.
Her breath was hot, not warm, as she breathed against the back of my
neck. I could feel the small hairs stiffen there in response.
"They're still out there, Jane." She held on to my hips. I felt very
unusual, trapped on top of a statue with my roomie, a stolen Frat
banner in my hands. Fear had vanished, a certain conspiratorial
sensation drew me closer to Angie in that moment. A sense of
comradery, perhaps a sense of close affection.
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Warm Breath
Hickory was some kind of founding father, sitting atop a large horse
with the feet firmly planted. I hadn’t gotten the story yet about the
purpose of this chunk of bronze, but the bushes had grown up against
the pedestal, a perfect hiding place.
Unfortunately, the frat search party thought so too. So to escape
notice as they approached, we climbed the statue. Me first, then
Angie. I know this doesn’t sound too reasonable as a course of action.
But over the years, the university had allowed the trees about Hickory
to grow freely. Now the leaves and thin branches afforded a certain
amount of concealment.
We got up on good ol’ Hickory’s horse, me right behind him, and Angie
clutching at me in turn directly behind. That’s when it really
started. The rustling in the bushes below soon subsided.
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