The Sweater Diary: Thursday

Thursday

I’m in a good mood during breakfast until Lisa comes downstairs all set for school wearing the sweater.  Damn her tits are amazing, dressed or naked.  But something is weird.  Wait.  This is wrong.  That’s my sweater.  For Julie!  My orange juice gets spilled in aggravation.  Mom gets mad.  Lisa has a hissy because it nearly got on her new birthday shoes.  Dad just places his big calm hand on my shoulder and says, “This isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to OJ,” which makes Mom laugh but I don’t get it.

The rest of the day goes about the same.  I don’t want to think about the sweater, but can’t stop myself either.  Later when Science class finally rolls around, Julie is even warmer than yesterday.  We walk and talk again after school and even hint at our Friday night schedules.  Like I have a schedule.  Sometimes she even touches my arm as we talk.  When we get to where our streets diverge she she tells me she’s free Friday night.  I say, “O.K.,” and then “see ya tomorrow,” turning and walking away.

The rest of the evening is crappy, as I replay in my head what I said a thousand times and wonder how anyone could be that dumb.  I stay in my room feeling trapped, isolated from the sweater, isolated from Julie, and with a burning desire to see Lisa’s big naked tits again.

Around 10:30pm a tiny sound raps at my bedroom window.  Then another.  I look out, and it is Julie!  She is walking her dog and stopped to throw pebbles at my window.  I stick my head out and in a whispering scream call out, “What are you doing?

“Walking my dog.  Are you blind?” she retorts.  I shimmy out the window and, hanging from the tree branch, swing my way across to the tree trunk, then hug the tree and scoot my way down to the ground.  She grabs my hand, and we run out of the yard, down the block and around the corner.  Stopping underneath a street lamp out of breath and laughing, I tell her I’m dead if my parents know I’m out here.  “Relax,” is all she says.

In fact, that might as well have been the only thing she did say since I can hardly remember anything we talked about.  I can only remember her standing on the grass by the street, her chest heaving up and down to catch her breath, and the light shimmering down from the street lamp to lay a soft glimmering glow across her blond hair and shoulders.  Occasionally she would spin from side to side when she giggled and the light would catch the tip of her nose or her cheekbone.  Or if the laughter was long and hard enough to cause her head to fall back, the street lamp’s glow sinking into the depths of her cleavage and affording me a glimpse into that heavenly canyon.  I was drinking up every inch of her, and she knew it.

But it was getting late.  Julie turned to jog home with her dog as I turned to find my way home and back up the tree to my bedroom.  I was swinging across the last branch towards my window when I heard some lame sarcastic remark about monkeys.  I turned to see Lisa leaning out her window in her pajama top, her big tits supported by her folded arms that were resting on the window sill.  I let my swinging come to a stop, deciding to ignore the comment and instead enjoy the view of those huge tits.  Besides, I was in too good a mood from being with Julie.  I crawled back in the window to my bedroom and, other than Lisa, I was the only one roused by my escapade outside the house.

 

To be continued…

Go back to Wednesday or see all posts in “The Sweater Diary”

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