Fuck Sage Carter

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When Sage walked into a room there was no sudden silence that immobilized your limbs. This was college, and it wasn’t like every cliché movie. It was worse. The room would continue humming its random mix of voices, iPods and of course, not so lulling and particularly rude air vents. Rather, everyone continued on as they were except that deep down they were all trying, (unnoticeably), to watch her. Eyes would shift and cut sentences short. I swear that once, the music skipped with her entrance only to resume with a rustic base attuned to her every step. She had this mesmerizing power over everyone it seemed -everyone but me that is. I could give two shits about Sage Carter.

I wasn’t fascinated by her eerie beauty that was almost too surreal for a nineteen year old. She wasn’t your typical prom-queen tight ass bitch, (though let me be the first to say, that ass was certainly tight). She was simple, with flowing blonde tufts that angled down her back and a killer ex-track star body. She was completely Irish, a creamy pale with faint freckles that accentuated her glimmering brown eyes. Maybe I’m lying; there’s definitely an uncontrollable need to just stare at her whenever she comes around because for whatever reason, she doesn’t act like she’s that great. There’s just something about her that sucks you in and locks you to her without you even realizing it. Due to this, Sage Carter is almost like a god around here, but one that no one would ever openly admit to worshipping. Instead, people just stare over magazines and whisper rude remarks because they’re afraid. Afraid of what someone so fascinating is hiding.

No one knows her really; she eats alone and studies at cubicles. She dated a Junior once, or so I heard, but rumor has it he doesn’t go here anymore. So why do I feel the need to rant to you about this random girl? Quite plainly, I’m just as addicted as everyone else, (but don’t you dare tell). She’s a spectacle of sorts, but I actually have a reason to eye her up like she’s some rare piece of art you’d typically only see in magazines and textbooks. Last weekend, Sage Carter and I fell in love.

It started in our Freshman year here at Owtamango College. The first time I saw her I had been sitting under one of the gillion trees our campus is so damn proud about, (it’s cool to be eco-friendly right?), just reading some poems by Jane Mead, (who is remarkable as well, she writes a lot like me if you’re ever in the mood for morbid imagery and poems that leave you feeling ashamed), and choking down a Camel Crush. I almost wondered if she was lost, the way she walked so hurriedly and yet, without a care at all. It was like she wanted to lazily dance in circles, but at 228 beats a minute, cut time. How I never noticed such a person before was completely beyond me. She was draped in a knee length dress made of argyle purples and grays that cinched her waist and hinted at her backward curves in a way that made it unfeasible for me not to stare. She looked nothing like me in my tight jeans, leather jacket and fuck off scowl.

Nonetheless, I instantly envisioned her naked and how warm and smooth she would feel and oh, how desperately I wanted to grab that ass! But then, as she finally walked past, I saw her face. The shadows that hung from her choppy bangs could not disrupt her incontestable beauty. She was gorgeous in the most unforced way possible. Her eyes were slightly sunken, but not in a drugged out I need to go to rehab way. More so, they looked as if they were accented by bruises and I couldn’t imagine anything sexier. It was in that moment that I knew I would one day tie her down and we’d bite and bleed and fuck.

I recall thinking up some random poem in those following minutes, something like, “I need to hurt in order to scream, so punish me and meet my needs. Feed me pain while we fuck. Bring me down to pull me up.” It was a little rusty, but definitely captured what I was thinking at the time.

She then became my obsession, or perhaps, the object of my private stalking. I searched for her wherever I went and on a few occasions I’d find her sitting in a lounge or reading some archaic book. It was then I began to notice how much attention she actually drew to herself and I was further shocked to see that she never acknowledged it. It was as if she was alone in the world, merely meandering through sceneries without ever appreciating them. I think I found her lack of care for anything most attractive.

Aw fuck. I can see my pathetic face now so intent on pursuing her, searching through her with my eyes. I wanted so desperately to know every part of her. What was it she listened to as she idly paced the corridors? What words resonated in her head as she read such peculiar books in the back corner of the library? But most of all, I wanted to know casino oyna what she was thinking. She always seemed such a distractible mess, as if she wanted no part of this world, but instead was completely content in a place I’ve never known.

So this pattern of searching and staring continued for a few months until one Thursday night in March something sensational happened. I had been carelessly drunk, rummaging through some papers some dick left on the bench where I was sitting, when all of a sudden my heart bounded fiercely against my ribs. The night air was stale and it burned my throat as I half choked on my spit. I was beginning to freak out, and I knew from the uncanny silence that something strange was waiting to unfold. And that was when it happened.

Sage Carter was stumbling, struggling to carry a bag of books and some, (I assume heavily intoxicating), drink just across the court. I began to shake and in my drunken confidence I did something I’d never intended: I ditched my Crush and jumped, well, tried to rise quickly, to my feet. Before I could interpret what my body was doing I was halfway to her. In the few seconds I spent traveling forth my mind was plundered by maddening thoughts: “What was I doing!? What was I going to say; what if I freaked her out?” But then, as if I knew precisely what she was thinking, I joined her side and retrieved a few of her books that had just smashed to the ground.

“Here, I’ve got them. What have you been reading, you must have had a lot of work,” I spoke, my voice crackling like a hot coal. I was still dumbfounded by what had just occurred, but I knew that I was too far in now to just hand them back and leave. She responded with a sigh and I wasn’t a bit surprised. I almost expected she would find words a waste. There emanated from her some strange aura of ocean air and a self-assured coolness that I was immediately fond of. As if transfixed by some higher power I raised my eyes to her for the first time and I knew that this was the perfect moment.

I cannot recall the pang of her books as they slumped out of my hand and on to the ground again. I cannot recall exactly where we stood or if it there was a breeze caressing us as I turned to face her. All I can remember is that somehow, shy, outcast me was at that instant enflamed by passion and an unfamiliar courage. As I leaned forward and smoothly slid my arm around her my insides were squirming on a molecular level. I could not believe what was happening, and it was then that I stroked her cheek, tilted her head and kissed her once, a gentle tap. Her lips were like plush pillows that ignited so many sensations as they met mine. I was enveloped by a sea of shock and exhilaration and lust.

That was before I realized that she, in her unyielding simple manner, had not hesitated. There was no pause; she did not force herself from me as I crept closer. Instead, she willingly accepted my offer and kissed me back. What the hell did this mean? I was so unsure of my actions. Did she regret what had just taken place? Fuck it I thought- I had tasted her once and I’d never known anything as wonderful. It was because of this I knew I had to do it again, and so I did. That night we made out under a crumbling sky city of stars, emblazed by our passion, like flaming trees etched across the horizon. And that was all it took. From that moment on Sage Carter was figuratively my everything.

The next morning I awoke in my ridiculously comfy bed, (I had a memory foam mattress pad), amused at feeling far too giddy for my taste. But then I remembered everything from the previous night. Memories of Sage, flashes of us kissing in the courtyard; it all tore through me in unison. I could see it as distinctly as it had happened: the two of us, palms touching, linked as we walked back to her single in Pearson Hall. I remember the second in which she closed the door and tossed her bag as if it didn’t matter at all. She walked towards me, unbuttoning her floral black blouse as she went. Her clothes glided off her in single motions until she was just standing there modeling her lingerie for me.

I couldn’t wait much longer so I ripped my jacket off and started removing my t-shirt and jeans. She stepped forward and pushed me onto the bed and slid my pants down my legs. I was so turned on I was almost nervous. I let her kiss me first and that was the sign that told me all I needed to know. We made out, our tongues smoothly running alongside each other and she tasted like skittles. I caressed her back and lightly scratched her, leaving thin pink trails near her spine. She was so damn sexy and I couldn’t stop my hands from feeling her all over, absorbing every inch of her. She felt like warm sand as she slipped between my fingers. Before I could notice, she had us both completely naked and slot oyna exposed.

She could tell I was excited and slowly kissed me from my mouth, to my neck, down my chest and further. I was swimming in a sea of gasps and tingling spurts of pleasure while I fingered her nipples and palmed her breasts. My fingertips gently combed though her hair as I massaged her scalp. She worked her tongue around my clit and sucked and tickled in ways no other woman had before. I was in a lapse of ecstasy as she ran her hands up and down my stomach. She was full of surprises that somehow didn’t surprise me. Sage Carter was everything I expected.

So then we fucked and I completely let go of my inhibitions. We 69’d and I flipped her over and pinned her arms and legs. Constricted, she was completely subject to my will. I kissed her strongly and she bit my tongue, so I moved to her breast and let my blood paint her nipple crimson. I tugged on her nipple ring with my teeth and she squirmed beneath me. I was fiercely motivated and I couldn’t stop my body from reacting to her. She was like a drug that intoxicated me with every lick and every touch. I rolled her over onto me and began to slightly choke her. I arched her up and back so that she was sitting on my naval and I could grab her ass. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to be inside her and so I threw her down and grabbed her hips. With her ankles around my head I slipped my fingers in and with every thrust she grew moister. The bed was pounding against the wall and I didn’t give a shit whether her neighbors could hear us. My fingers were going wild and with my mouth pressed to her I began exploring. I examined every section of her with my tongue and she shook and shuddered.

She made the softest “oooh” sound as she came. We laid there, my arm around her back, as she nestled against my chest until her breathing slowed. I was so serene and satisfied, that just as I was passing out she felt the desire to straddle me and lean forward until she was nibbling on my neck. I can guarantee that after that I was no longer tired. I should have known better; one round wasn’t going to be enough for Sage Carter. She wanted to experience it all; the tenderness alongside the rough and dirty. Who was I to deny her that?

Eventually she grew exhausted and fell asleep while I stroked her with the backs of my fingers. I stayed like that for an hour or so just thinking about what had taken place. It really had happened; Sage and I had just made love for the first time. It was amazing and somehow we had known how to please one another without needing to say anything. There was something about her that just drove me wild. Once I was sure she was asleep, I discreetly crawled from her bed and dressed in the moonlight. I’m not quite sure why I left, but for whatever reason, I didn’t want to wake up there in the morning.

As I walked back to my house I was almost jogging from all of my excitement. I brushed my teeth with a smile and curled up in my loft with all seven of my pillows, my audience of stuffed animals and my huge comforter. It had been an unforgettable night. I fell asleep thinking of one thing only: Sage Carter. And the next morning as I awoke I realized my thoughts had not strayed. She was always on my mind after that night and I wasn’t bothered in the least.

It was almost surreal attending to my regular activities after such a fascinating experience. I walked to class smiling at people I’ve never noticed before. I could barely hear my professors over the soundtrack of The Shins resounding in my skull. I sat and bobbed my head in sync with the music and I must have looked absolutely ridiculous, but I didn’t care. Who isn’t super giddy after getting some when it’s been a while, (or a year or so… but who’s counting)? I had nothing to worry about anymore; I was completely infatuated with a woman who was actually worth it.

The next few days were spent walking around campus, arm in arm, not giving a fuck what people thought. If they stared we gave them something to look at. She was pleased with all of the attention for a change, and loved showing off for our spectators almost as much as I did. We spent the evenings in her single listening to indie music and I eventually got her to listen to a few of my awful playlists. I loved how open she was to everything. We talked for hours about how much she hated men and their “macho madness” as she called it. I talked about my ex-boyfriend who had raped me and how I’d never been able to enjoy myself with a man since.

“They’re all dicks,” she sang, “and that is why we prefer the pussies.” I laughed aloud. She was so shocking at times, and I enjoyed that she was poetically beautiful; my Emily Dickinson of sorts. I wrote her love notes and stuck them in her text books. Little poems about her ass canlı casino siteleri and how badly I wanted to be kissing her. There were a few fun ones too. Ones that said, “Meet me in the bathroom across the hall at 2:40.” It was convenient knowing her schedule and being able to surprise her for a change. She’d gracefully exit the classroom and nonchalantly head to the bathroom. It was best when she was wearing a skirt because I would lift her onto the sink counter and go at her while we made out. After we realized we were being too loud, (though the risk always made us want to continue), I would send her back, her hair a wild mess and I would smile because everyone would know that those hickeys were from me.

Tuesday night I took her out for the first time. It wasn’t much of a date, but half off appetizers at Applebees was my favorite late night special. I got the boneless buffalo wings, classic, with an extra side of sauce and she got the chicken quesadillas with extra sour cream. She preferred the blue cheese too and I couldn’t imagine a better combination of thick sauces and spicy chicken. If I hadn’t realized it by this point, I knew then that Sage Carter completed me in every way possible. She didn’t mind my cheap taste and awkward silences. Just like I didn’t mind the distant look in her eyes as I talked to her about New England clam chowder and whether I thought I could handle a Stat class. Boring as I was she didn’t seem disappointed, and for a date that only cost me $12.00 I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The next two nights were spent on my second story porch smoking hookah while everyone else was asleep. We watched stupid shit on Youtube and sang along to crappy pop songs. We talked for hours before we realized it was dawn and the sun was peeking its neon radiance at the horizon. I swear, in those two nights we found out everything about each other. She knew all about my family, my hobbies, my wasted potential, my past relationships and my awkward habits. I knew about her rich father and cokehead mom. About her brother who died in a car accident two years ago and that the smell of lemons makes her want to vomit. I learned what made her cry, what made her want to impale someone and where she was ticklish. Covered by my blanket, hand in hand, I grew completely connected to her. She was everything I never knew I loved.

Then came the weekend. Friday night I curled her hair and she was gorgeous. I can’t explain how amazing someone who never does anything to fix herself up looks when they dress up. To be blunt, she was fucking hot. We almost didn’t make it out of her dorm room, but luckily we had control enough over our sexual desires to calm ourselves for a few hours. We went to a mixer at Mantley and partied for the first time together. The added drunk buzz drove me wild. We grinded so close no one even bothered to intervene. It was a mesh of thighs against thighs, breasts upon breasts. I rubbed my leg on her clit while I grabbed her ass and scratched the back of her neck. I was so horny, that we started full on making out in the middle of the dance floor. It was the greatest feeling of vibrations: musical, physical, mental.

Afterwards, we went home and had the most sensuous experience of my life. We stripped down and showered together. She lathered me with soap and my fingers prickled her scalp as I massaged in shampoo. There were suds all around us and it was almost as if we were two best friends enjoying a playful bubble bath. Except for when I went down on her for a good twenty minutes.

Then we wandered back to her room and got under the covers, each of us completely naked. I loved staring at the angles of her body, they were so raw, but incredibly sexy. That night we didn’t go crazy though, we actually just cuddled and kissed and held each other. It was terribly romantic. She felt so perfect in my arms, as if she had been shaped for me to hold. She smelt of coconut shampoo and melon deodorant. It smelt like familiarity. It smelt like my first love.

I won’t get into much detail to avoid being redundant, but that really was the greatest night of my life thus far. I recollect waking up at some forbidden hour and just looking over and seeing her. She was so beautiful in the moons glow and I just stared. I kissed her collar bone and gently rubbed her breasts. I loved feeling every part of her. Each section was something tragically serene and faultless. When I awoke the next morning, perhaps she was still a little drunk, or perhaps she was still caught up in her dreams, but she very clearly whispered that she loved me. And I whispered it back. And even now, a good half a day later, I do not regret it. I almost think I meant it.

Oh shit, it’s almost eight, I’ve got to go pick up Sage, we’re heading to the movies. We’re going to select the most ridiculous sounding title and see how that goes. I know you’re just a hamster and all, but you’re a great listener Pokey. Don’t try to escape and shit everywhere while I’m gone. I’ll be home in a couple hours.

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