Playing the Shawna Game

Recently, one of my readers told me she'd like to see longer posts. I'm assuming this is because, unlike most erotica writers, I try to develop a storyline, eliminating [most of] the repetitiveness and most of the time keep things as realistic as possible (see As It Is). While trying to do some 'character development' I came up with a long post (which I still haven't finished, by the way). I hope you don't get too bored.

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Ken executed a flawless Kuzuuryu Reppa against Garuda, ending in a knockout.

I dropped the joystick and wiped off the sheen of perspiration that had formed on my face. For the first time ever, I'd beaten Garuda on 'Hard' in Streetfighter Ex3 Plus, and that is no walkover, if I may say.

The doorbell rang. I got off the floor and went to answer the door. It was Shawna.

For a while we stood staring at each other, then she stood on tiptoe and planted a light, effusive kiss on my lips.

"You look good," she said.

I looked down at my ragged jeans with the knee-holes, and then at my feet with the long, broken toenails. We both laughed.

"Come in," I said, taking her coat.

She sat in the love seat facing the television.

"Can I get you a drink?" I asked.

"Just water," she replied, as I knew she would. Ever since I've known her, she's been one of those health nuts who don't drink anything except water or freshly squeezed un-genetically modified fruit juice.

I got a bottle of spring water from the fridge and a glass from the kitchen. On my way back I put on my shirt.

I joined her on the love seat and watched her as she held the glass up to the light before drinking from it. I could tell she was slightly troubled.

"So for two months I try to call you and you keep hanging up on me. Suddenly, you turn up on my doorstep..." I blurted out. Oops, I hadn't exactly meant to let it out that way. Oops!

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I should be apologizing," she said gently, trying to smile. "I'm sorry."

"Oh no no, that's okay," I said. "How's Mark?"

Her face clouded over.

"That bad?" I asked. She nodded.

"You split up?" she nodded again, and I put two and two together.

"When you broke up with him you didn't want to talk to anyone," I stated unnecessarily. She nodded once more.

"Oh, baby, I'm awfully sorry," I put my arm around her and pulled her to me. She rested her head on my shoulder.

"You could have talked to me," I said. "I'm always here."

"I know," she whispered.

After a while she pulled away. She seemed to be handling it well.

I picked my joystick and reset the game.

"Are you up for a game?" I asked.

"Sure," she placed the glass carefully on the side stool and picked the second joystick.

We chose our fighting characters and soon I was pommelling her character without mercy.

"Where do you live now?" I let her character hit mine a couple of times.

"I'll write down the address when I'm leaving," she replied.

I went into Excel and executed a flurry of combos.

"That's not fair," she protested. I grinned.

"You know, when I was a greenhorn like you..." I began. She rolled her eyes at me. "When I was a greenhorn like you, I beat a lot of experienced guys by 'rubbing.'"

"How do you do that?" she asked.

"It's simple. You place your joystick under your shirt and glide your thumbs over the controls," I explained.

"How?" she asked again.

I took her joystick from her and snuck my hand under her t-shirt. My fingers grazed her breasts and I withdrew my hand as quickly as I'd have done if I'd touched live coals.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered, embarrassed.

"That's okay," she smiled at me. "It's not like you haven't touched them before, remember?"

We'd been friends since childhood, growing up next door to each other. I'd defended her against some of the other bullies in the street since I was five and her mom used to call me her little boyfriend, which made Shawna jealous.

When she started to grow breasts, she would tell me about the pain, and show them to me. I would feel them, making remarks about how much bigger they'd grown since the last time.

It had all been innocent play -- nothing overtly sexual -- until her father barged in on us one day. The rage on his face terrified me and I was more than happy to get away when he ordered me to leave and never talk to his daughter again.

Her mother had given her a lecture, then pleaded with her father on my behalf. The boob play had stopped, and we hadn't been allowed to meet in our usual hideout anymore.


I looked away from her, as embarrassed as I could be. I heard her unclasp her bra and when I turned to her, she had lifted the hem of her shirt and I was staring at the twins. Something stirred in my jeans.

"They're bigger now," she said. "Go on, touch them..."

I took the soft globes in my hands and felt them the way I had ten years before. Was it just me, or were her nipples erect? I pulled away.

"I don't think this is a good idea," I said.

"What isn't good about it?" she was still holding her shirt up and there was no doubt about it now -- her nipples were hard. "You're afraid you'll be tempted to fuck me. That's it, isn't it?'

Shawna was always the one to put things a little too candidly.

"Yes," I admitted.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked. She scuttled her butt over until her face was mere centimeters from mine.

"I don't want to hurt you," I said. "I don't want to make you feel like this will help you get over Mark."

She had this hurt look on her face and I knew I was partly right.

Our gazes were locked and we breathed slowly. I loved the feel of her breath on my face.

Her next move took me completely by surprise.

"Screw Mark," she said, taking her top off and plopping her ripe bottom in my lap.

"I'm going to have you whether you want it or not," she said huskily.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed. Her lips clamped down on mine, silencing my protests.

I really didn't have any choice did I? I accepted her tongue into my mouth and reached for her tits, this time showing none of my earlier reserve.

Let's hope I get around to writing the real 'fucking session' after this.