Author's note: Wow, I must be riding some kind of posting high, because this is the third post I've made in as many days! I love extended weekends. I should take more time off from work...yeah right. Because I just luuvv work so much, why would I ever purposefully want to take a day off? (Note the sarcasm, lol). So, I stopped trying to force Casey completely into character here (you'll see what I mean, wink wink). I had a lot of trouble trying make the two ideas mesh into one cohesive entity in my head. I'll leave it to your judgment as to whether or not you think it works. After so many requests to continue, I couldn't resist the challenge. The general idea formed in my brain, and I just followed the trail from there. Granted, it took quite awhile to reach the end of aforementioned trail.
On a different note, if you have any interest at all in my music suggestions, I was listening to the whole Beneath it All album by Hey Monday. It was difficult to decide, considering how practically all the songs fit my mindset for this chapter, but I figured that my final decision was the one that fit the chapter best. If anyone else is a Hey Monday fan, I'd be delighted to hear your opinion on which songs from the album you think best fit this chapter!
Music Suggestions: 'E. T.' by Katy Perry, 'Where is my head' by Hey Monday.
Disclaimer: I don't own LWD, not even the slightest sliver of a percent.
Perchance to dream: Casey
If there was one thing that Casey didn't understand about sex, it was why men got the simple route to masturbating. If one took a feminist perspective, one could say that men wouldn't be able to understand much more than that, and that women were the ones that typically had more patience for figuring out such things.
She could understand that, but unfortunately, it didn't make matters any easier for women like her, women that just could not climax from touching themselves. Besides, how was it that, according to countless romance novels, men always seemed to know exactly how to pleasure a woman before they had sex?
She shouldn't be having a problem with this. She was a grown woman, eighteen years old, in harmony with her own body. So why was it so difficult to make it sing in pleasure? She'd had the prerequisite health class with the almost mortifying, yet clinical, sex ed chapter. She'd read more than her fair share of tips on the subject from the Cosmo magazines she snagged from Emily after she'd finished them. She knew where everything was. It should not be as complicated as she was making the subject of masturbation out to be.
So how'd it turn out that the only way she could successfully pull it off, she had to think of Derek?
It had been quite accidental the first time. It'd been early morning, the sun shining weakly through her curtains, with her on the edge of wakefulness and unwilling to let go of a really satisfying dream. It'd been the dream that left her feeling slightly aroused, so while she was still comfortable and hidden under her sheets, Casey tentatively pushed one hand under her shirt to knead one breast and the other beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms.
She'd always felt a small twinge of uneasiness every time she touched herself, as if it were wrong to be doing such an act. Perhaps that was why she could never get it right before; she couldn't fully get into the activity if she wasn't completely at ease with it. However, Gerard Butler was on to something in The Ugly Truth when he informed Katherine Heigl's character, Abby, that if she didn't like touching herself, how could she expect a man to?
Somehow, something had been different that morning. She tried to dredge up what her dream guy had looked like, but could only recall brownish hair tickling her skin and strong, yet wiry hands caressing her with callused fingertips. Perhaps that is how Derek appeared in her mind, giving her the confidence and a challenge to prove herself: he had similar features. Regardless the reason, Derek worked his way past her defenses, once again in the wrong place at the wrong time as she felt the first tingle of pleasure blossom in the pit of her stomach.
So, after only a moment's hesitation, she went with it. Surprisingly enough, it hadn't been nearly as difficult or disgusting as she'd originally planned it would be.
She could easily feel his weight on top of her, used to and familiar with the feeling through various physical altercations over the years. He'd only lay close enough for her to feel his heat and strength surrounding her, but not enough to crush her as his mouth coaxed hers into opening. He'd never intentionally try to suffocate her...well, physically anyway. Psychologically was a whole other story. One of his legs would wedge between hers, pressing his pelvis into her outer thigh with his knee just under her opposite thigh, that leg rising and bending to accommodate as her pinned leg turned slightly to adjust. She was very proud of her flexibility at that point. Later on in her fantasy her fantasy Derek also appreciated that flexibility very much.
Of course, the real Derek had never been outwardly adverse to said flexibility as far as she could recall.
Her arms would be secured around his shoulders, caressing the slim, yet defined muscles that lurked beneath surprisingly smooth skin. Derek's hands would be under her shirt, reminiscent of the phantom fingers she remembered from her dream as they ghosted along her sensitized chest, pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers.
His unruly hair, that was long overdue for a trim, would brush over her skin as it followed its owner on his indecisive quest to find a place to rest his lips. One of his hands would go to her hip as his other pushed her shirt up, the rest of his body sliding down hers to accommodate his mouth latching onto one of her breasts. A renewed sense of indecision would arise as his mouth would close over one nipple, pay the proper homage before moving on to the other, attend to that one as her back arched and her entire body hummed with an almost painful pleasure, before releasing and pulling back to slant his lips over hers, kissing her with a deep and leisurely focus. As if he had nothing better in the world to do than lay in bed with her, with no other place he needed to be.
Of course, what hot-blooded male would pass up the opportunity to do naughty things with a good-looking woman?
She would forget about the hand on her hip until it was untying her drawstring pants, making its way into her panties with an ease that said he knew exactly what he was doing and that nothing, or no one, was going to stop him. And then he'd be there, pressing into her, teasing her. For the lack of a better phrase, entering her combination.
What sealed the deal was his almost obsessive drive to please her, to make her feel as if her every nerve ending was sparking with ecstasy. He'd surround her, never let up, keep challenging her until she tumbled over the edge, and even then, stroke her until she came down.
Her first orgasm took her by surprise, her startled cries of pleasure muffled by the hand she wasn't using to pleasure herself.
And when she heard the floor creak outside her door, she really hoped that it was just the house shifting.
It was as if the section of her brain dedicated to pleasure was dead-set on Derek. She tried to think of every other guy she'd ever dated, even Truman. It took her days to recover from that particular experiment, leaving her with a queasy feeling. Even Derek took enough notice to question her sickly hue. Not even thoughts of Max worked, and Max was probably the dreamiest guy she'd ever dated. Thinking of doing things like that with any other guy just left her feeling unsure, vulnerable. She had no idea why Derek was the only guy she could think... "off color" thoughts about and not feel guilty or embarrassed. When she thought of him like that, it was invigorating, and thrilling in ways that perplexed the more logical sections of her brain.
So, in a moment of weakness, she decided to continually feed that neglected section of her brain, disregarding the consequences that could arise from that decision.
It wasn't until the fourth time that thoughts of being naked with Derek worked their way into her fantasies. The other times, it had been all about her. They had both remained fully clothed in her other fantasies, with only her shirt, or skirt, pushed up. The fourth time around, though, she thought about doing a lot more than that.
It had been the first sex dream she'd ever had. Sure, she'd dreamed and thought about kissing plenty of times. But sex had been another entity altogether, her subconscious shying away from such thoughts.
It'd all felt so real in the dream. From the fight over the remote until the heavy making out in his recliner, and them dashing up the stairs to his bedroom.
She'd wanted to watch a biography about the Russian princess Anastasia and the new evidence they'd uncovered about her identity. He'd wanted to watch a rerun of the hockey game he'd missed the night before, due to his own hockey match. She started off with the remote until he snatched it out of her hand right as she aimed it towards the TV. She screeched his name in that usual infuriated tone, leaping off the couch and landing on top of him as he laughed and dodged her attempts to retrieve it.
Somehow, both her hands and his would end up behind him in the chair, her cheek pressed up against his as she searched behind his back for the object he was keeping from her. The rest of her body would be pressing into his, her hips lined up perfectly as her legs straddled his. It wasn't until he let out an unintentional groan that she would realize what kind of compromising position they were both in, with one of her hands somehow clutching his jean-clad backside as her other hand had followed his down behind the cushion of the now fully reclined recliner.
Not fully in control of her body, her hips would roll and shift into a bulge in his jeans that, she was surprised to discover, was Derek's own arousal. Biting her lower lip, she'd cut off the startled sound of pleasure that their grinding had just caused. Forgetting the remote, Derek's hands would dart out from their hiding place as they settled in on her hips, pushing them both into an upright position as his mouth surged forward to connect with hers. His hand would grasp one of hers and push it between them, urging her hand to massage his reaction to her. His kiss would be hot and erotic, the type of kiss that was a sure giveaway sex was soon to follow.
And the sex with Derek her brain created rivaled the steamiest romance novels in her mom's hidden collection.
Both naked, he'd settle between her welcoming open legs, blanketing her with reassurances and words of comfort as he pressed into her in an inexorably slow pace. The protection she insisted he don, even though it was just a fantasy, felt cool and slippery as he entered her. Once fully seated inside her, his face would burrow into her neck as he paused to allow her virgin muscles to adjust to the intrusion he'd just forced upon them.
Since it was her fantasy, the sharp, intense pain she'd originally expected was nothing more than the barest of pinches. Something more akin to being poked with a safety pin than a heated blade stabbing you repeatedly. And, just to be clear, she wasn't equating Derek's...manhood to a safety pin. She didn't know the exact measurement, but Emily had unwittingly given her a roughly just-above-average estimate during one of her detailed rehashings of a heated second-base interaction.
She'd inform him of her quick readiness in the form of tugging gently on the long strands at the base of his scalp, as she brought one leg up to clench around his behind and the other around his thighs.
Smiling at him softly when he'd look up at her with unmasked surprise, he'd recover his wits and start to move.
Being more on the lean and lithe side, he sure did know how to use what he had, and despite how she regularly criticized his slight frame, she appreciated how compatible their bodies were. She particularly delighted in the feel of his chest rubbing against hers, and how the hard, flat nipples on his chest grazed along hers.
It was a rather interesting experience when, after a few minutes with him on top, he rolled them over without warning. Still nestled deep within her, Derek would look up at her from his new position on his back, a suggestive expression pasted on his face.
"Ride me like a cowgirl, Case." Derek said in a husky voice, smoothing his palms up and down her outer thighs. "Please, Casey?" Derek begged, a hint of insecurity entering his tone when she didn't immediately move.
"Only because you asked so nicely." Casey finally relented, a small, victorious smile lighting up her features as she trailed a finger down his cheek. Feeling bold and full of womanly power, she held his chin firmly and made his gaze lock with hers. "Are you going to watch me ride you?"
Nodding his head affirmatively, Derek's eyes glazed over, completely under her spell. Bringing her arms over her head, she locked her knees against Derek and slowly began to rise. Closing her eyes, she could almost picture Derek's eyes avidly fixated on where their bodies joined as she sank back down, inch by slow inch. His fingers clenched almost painfully into her thighs as she lifted herself almost completely off of him and began again. And again.
Needy sounds of desperation repeatedly escaped Derek's lips unbidden as she kept her pace slow and shallow, only taking about half of his sex inside of her before sliding back up. Casey bit her lower lip and a few needy pants passed her own lips when Derek's hips started rising up of their own accord to meet hers, sinking to the hilt inside of her. Resting her hands back on his shins, she decided not to punish him for getting impatient. Instead she rewarded him with the view from her changed position above him, increasing her pace.
She concentrated on the feel of him as he pulsed back and forth, swelling against her tender flesh, stroking a place deep inside her that made her body sing. In an effort to maximize the effect, Casey unconsciously bent back further, her back arching and her head falling back limply. Crying out sharply as his next thrust suddenly rasped against the front of her sheath, Casey felt Derek's legs against her back, pushing her up to a more comfortable angle. Her eyes shot open and locked onto Derek's as it felt like her control was slipping, making her hips twitch erratically into his.
Chanting incoherently, her voice incrementally rose as the tide began to pull back in preparation for something equally exciting and devastatingly powerful to crash into her. Derek sat up quickly, his legs falling to the sides as his mouth latched onto hers hungrily, banding his strong arms around her in a secure embrace as the tide swept in without warning. Like a crack in a large dam, sensation exploded through her body, bursting and washing over her in an almost terrifying way as it decimated every nerve ending and functioning brain cell in its all-encompassing path.
As Casey struggled through the aftermath of the most intense orgasm she'd ever had, she felt Derek thrust into her one last time. Holding her hips in an iron-like grip as his back arched, he came inside her, his hips jerking involuntarily as he emptied his seed into her.
His chest rising and falling like a bellows, he collapsed onto his bed, pulling Casey down on top of him. Sinking into the warmth that radiated from him, Casey sighed blissfully and closed her eyes, her entire body taking on the consistency of freshly melted wax as she molded her body along the contours of his.
As she succumbed to the call of exhausted slumber, Casey felt Derek mumble five heartfelt words into her ear.
"I love you, Casey McDonald."
Those five innocent words startled her into wakefulness, aware of the fierce pounding of her heart and the intense, pulsing throb she felt at the apex of her thighs that she now knew signaled the aftereffects of a climax.
Sitting up and scrubbing her hands over her face, she considered how special those words made her feel. How they left more of a reeling impact than the actual thought of having him inside of her, sharing the most intimate act between two people. Those words made her heart ache with longing at how impossible it would be, hearing those precious words pass his lips in reality.
An overwhelming sense of despair descended over her, and she burst into tears. She wanted something she could never have: the love and companionship of a man, that, for all intents and purposes, was her egotistical, spiteful brother by marriage.
Adding the proverbial cherry on top, in less than two months, they'd be going off to Queens together. Sharing a cramped student apartment together. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she buried her face into her knees and sobbed harder.
She was in way too deep.
oouoomooo*ooocoooaoo*oosoooeoo*
Oh my God! I am such a meanie for doing what I did to Casey! Looking back to when I first started writing this, I hadn't planned on ending on such a depressing note. Aside from that, though, what'd you think? (Waggling eyebrows) Pretty intense, right? My friends would be absolutely shocked if they found out that I could think those kinds of thoughts, lol. I'm telling you, this past Thanksgiving extended weekend did me a lot of good! Hope you liked! And don't fret too much, this isn't the end end. More will come eventually (pun intended)! Some more food for thought: the floor creak Casey heard, do you think it was just the house shifting...or could it have been Derek passing by her room for some unknown reason? I should say, which would you prefer it to be?