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Copyright 2000 by the author. If nobody has to pay,
you can use it. If someone has to pay, you can't.
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Alexandra
by Frank Downey (Fab4fan99@prodigy.net)
***
Alex and I were always friends, of a certain sort. We
weren't go-out-and-do-something friends. We were, if
you're on your porch I'll come chat with you friends.
I suppose it started to change a little the summer
before my junior year in high school, which was the
summer before Alexandra's freshman year. (MF, rom,
teens, coa)
***
Author Note: This never happened. This is not
biography. Well, a little of it sort of happened in a
roundabout way. But most of it is fiction, especially
the ending. However, deep inside the heart, soul, and
essence of Alexandra lurks the essence of a girl I
once knew, a long time ago. This is for her.
As always, comments, criticism, and raves are heartily
encouraged. The mail I got for The Perfect Six was
deliriously appreciated. And I am going to answer it
all, but I had to finish this, first, because it was
burning a hole in my brain.
***
--One--
"BRAT!"
"TOAD!"
Well, don't all 8-year-old boys think all six-year old
girls are brats? And don't 6-year-old girls think 8-
year-old boys are toads? Well, most of them, anyway.
That's my experience.
And those were our respective ages when Alexandra's
family moved in next door to mine. I was 8, she was 6.
However, I don't remember ever calling her a brat. And
I don't remember her calling me a toad. That was her
twin sister Cheryl, who still *is* a brat and probably
still considers me a toad.
Alex was different. There were four girls in that
family, and they all competed for attention. Alex and
Cheryl were the oldest, followed by Andrea, who was 4
that first summer, and Jennifer, who was 3. I always
felt bad for their Dad, Mr. Callaghan, the poor guy
was outnumbered.
Alexandra and Cheryl were fraternal twins. If you
didn't get that just by looking at them, you'd figure
it out after spending seven seconds with them. Cheryl
was the boisterous one. The younger ones seemed to
take Cheryl as a role model. Like I said--competing
for attention. Alex didn't do that. She went and sat
in the corner. So, it was probably no surprise that I-
-the most introspective male 8-year-old you ever met--
noticed Alex first.
I don't remember all that much about the first couple
of years I knew them, but I have a vivid memory of a
few years later. I was 11, Alex was 9. The
neighborhood crew I ran with was in their backyard,
and we were playing tag, or something. Something loud,
with Cheryl organizing and yelling and pontificating,
as usual. And I remember Alex, sitting by herself in
the corner, reading. The rest of the crew badgered
her, telling her that she should play with us, but she
refused. I admired her for it. Me? Oh, I was playing
tag. An eleven-year-old boy, who'd rather read in the
corner than get dirty? Well, yeah, actually, I was.
But that day, I played.
The next time I saw her in the corner of the yard,
reading, I grabbed my latest and went to join her. The
crew happened upon us shortly thereafter, organizing a
game of something. I turned them down. And you can bet
I got a boatload of shit for it. I also got a sweet
little smile from Alex. That offset the razzing, and
then some.
I also remember, about a year later, getting my first
kiss from her. It was in a game of Truth or Dare,
where Alex had the dare, and Cheryl--of course--dared
her to kiss me. She blushed, but she did it. It was
warm, and sweet, and soft, and made me all tingly. But
that was it.
--Two--
Alex and I were always friends, of a certain sort. We
weren't go-out-and-do-something friends. We were, if
you're on your porch I'll come chat with you friends.
We still occasionally read together. That sort of
thing.
I suppose it started to change a little the summer
before my junior year in high school, which was the
summer before Alexandra's freshman year. I went to a
private high school, but she was going to attend the
local public one. I turned 16 that summer, just after
Alex turned 14. We both had summer jobs. And, it
seemed that our schedules somehow coincided a lot, as
we used to arrive home at the same time quite a bit.
It just seemed natural to settle on one or the other's
front porch for a chat. The chats got longer, and
longer. We'd sit there for hours, just talking. We'd
talk about our jobs. I'd talk about high school. She'd
talk about being worried about high school, mainly
because of Cheryl, who was blonde and was well on her
way to being a candidate for a Playboy centerfold, and
who flirted with anything in pants. Alex was described
by most people as "cute". She was introverted. Under
the glaring light of Cheryl, she could feel like a
gnat. I think I was the first person she discussed
this with. It worried her.
I know I was the first person she ever showed her
short stories to. And she was the first person that I
shared my poems and songs with. And, I made her laugh.
Alex *never* laughed. Smile, sure. Chuckle, giggle,
yeah. But not *laugh*. I was doing an impression of a
customer that had been in the store I worked in, and
she started howling. Great big belly laughs. I found,
over the summer, that I made her laugh quite a bit.
Nobody else could. It was nice to be able to do that.
When school started, our nighttime chats became less
frequent. That was by necessity. My workload was
brutal, hers only slightly less so. But, we still made
sure to hook up a couple times a week for a talk. Her
worst fears about Hurricane Cheryl were coming true--
she was often left in her wake. I tried to reassure
her.
It helped that she got asked out on a couple of dates.
She had a few short-lived boyfriends that year. I had
a girl that I dated most of the fall and into the
winter. And we'd talk about that, too. That was
actually rather humorous. These relationships were
typical high-school stuff--rocky as a dinghy in an
ocean storm. I'd complain about Marie, and Alex would
say, "I'd never do that to you." She'd complain about
one of hers, and I'd say, "What a jerk. Doesn't he
know how to treat a girl like you?" I suppose, if we
had been older, we could have read the signs better.
But we didn't.
--Three--
Anyhow, by the time winter turned to spring, both of
us were, again, unattached. And complaining to one
another about it. However, I had a bigger problem.
There, looming in the not-distant-enough distance like
a great big anxiety attack, was one of the prime
milestones (or millstones) of a High School Junior's
existence: The Prom. And I *had* to go. Tiger and Bill
would never let me forget it if I didn't.
Tiger and Bill? They were my best friends, almost from
the very start of freshman year. The three of us were
tighter than an over tuned guitar string. The Three
Musketeers. The Three Stooges. Huey, Duey, and Louie.
Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. The Beatles, minus Ringo. That
was us.
And they were going to the prom, and would take it as
a personal affront if I were not there with them.
After all, what are Moe and Larry without Curly? The
Beatles could live without Ringo, but John? I tried to
point out to them that if they included their dates
they could be all *four* Beatles, but that didn't
wash. It was The Event of The Year. The Third of Three
was expected to be there.
Easy for them to say. They had dates. They had
girlfriends, actually. I had nothing, and time was a-
gettin' on. And no *way* was I going stag. Then Tiger
made the suggestion: "Hey, you don't need to be in
love to go to the prom. Why don't you ask one of the
neighborhood girls you run with? You know, just as
friends."
It was a capital idea. Now, I knew who Tiger had in
mind--a couple of the girls from up the street that I
ran with. He knew them. And, yes, one or two of them
would be glad to go, as long as I did the whole "just
as friends" preamble. One, in particular, I knew would
go and that I would have a good time with.
But I didn't ask her, because Tiger's innocent
suggestion had made me think of something completely
different. I didn't ask any of the girls up the
street. I asked Alexandra.
And there was no preamble. No qualifications. I just
asked her, "Alex, would you go to my prom with me?"
And she said, "Yes." And smiled.
It's funny--walking back to my house, I wasn't filled
with relief that I had finally gotten a date for the
prom and Bill and Tiger would get off my back. All I
could think of was--how the hell did I not notice
before this how pretty she is when she smiles?
--Four---
The prom was just fine, fine, fine. The six of us did
the whole limo bit. I went over to get Alex before the
limo showed up, and, when she walked out of the house,
she took my breath away. The shoulder-length ringlets
of dark brown curls she had had since she was six were
piled up on her head. Her lightly applied makeup--
which she never wore--accented the twinkle in her
chocolate brown eyes.
Her eyes. HER EYES!
I had known her since she was SIX how on EARTH had I
never noticed her eyes before? The lavender dress was
fairly low-cut. Since when did Alex have cleavage? She
was very petite--always had been--but she filled out
her dress just fine, thank you very much. And then
that smile again. Did the little girl next door, my
pal, my chat buddy, change overnight? Or had I finally
woken up?
All four parental units took copious amounts of
pictures. I was glad, glad, glad. I wanted copies. I
was going to carry a few around with me, and the next
jerk that called Cheryl "the pretty twin" and Alex
"the smart twin" was gonna get an eyeful of THIS. Not
that I'd blame them for not noticing. It had only
taken me nine years, right?
We piled in the limo. There with Tiger and Bill and
their dates, Alex's innate shyness asserted itself.
Luckily, not for long. I had warned the guys that she
might go into a shell at first. Hey, they're good
guys. They're my best friends. They and their dates
helped me draw her out. I performed my special magic
trick -- I made her laugh -- and she found a second
person that could make her laugh--Tiger. Tiger can
make a fencepost bark like a seal.
Both of their dates were sweet, and much bonding
commenced. By the time we arrived at the prom, Alex
had discarded her shell for the duration and the Three
Amigos (plus female accompaniment) were ready for a
Time.
And a Time we did have. We ate. We danced. Tiger and I
made Alex laugh until she cried. We badgered the DJ to
play Born to Run so Bill and I could sing it really,
really LOUD while making an effort to look like we
were trying to dance. This made Alex laugh, too. Then
we danced some more.
There was, of course, an after-prom party. We had the
limo until the wee hours, so what did we care? I
accepted a beer (a very rare event.) Alex accepted a
wine cooler (an unheard of event--in fact, it was her
first.) We didn't drink enough to get drunk, but we
got happy. Somehow--I don't even remember how--we
ended up on a couch with my arm around her and her
head snuggling into my chest.
It just seemed the natural thing to do when I put my
hand under her chin, tilted it upward, and leaned down
to kiss her. It seemed just as natural when I did it
again, a few minutes later. And again. And it seemed
just as natural, when I took her home, standing on her
porch, to wrap my arms around her--as she wrapped hers
around me--and *really* kiss her.
--Five--
So, that's where It All Started, right? Well, not
exactly. For a while, it seemed like we were both
scared that what had happened that night was due to
Prom Pixie Dust and couldn't be recreated in the real
world, or something like that.
But *something* had definitely happened. Not only did
our porch side chats increase in frequency--and
length--now, it seemed like we were always doing
something together. If I was going to the store, it
seemed natural to go over and ask her if she wanted to
go. If she was going to the ice cream stand, it was
natural to ask me. If I wanted to go for a drive, I
grabbed her. Movies? Shopping? We'd always see if the
other wanted to go. And, it was natural that, when I
scored two very coveted tickets to see Bruce
Springsteen in concert, I asked her to go with me.
It was Springsteen that did it. First of all, there
was absolutely no logical reason why I should have
asked Alex to go with me. I had plenty of BossManiac
friends that would have cut off an arm for that
ticket--I don't think Bill has forgiven me yet--and I
decide to ask Alex, who had only the slightest inkling
who Bruce Springsteen even was. Her musical tastes ran
to Irish folk music, and classical. I told myself that
I was doing it to initiate the unaware.
That, although it might be fun to attend with someone
else who knew all the words to Darkness on the Edge of
Town and wasn't shy about singing along, it would be
more fun to suck an unwary nonbeliever into the Church
of Bruce. While there was a kernel of truth in that,
it wasn't the real reason. And it certainly wasn't the
reason she eagerly agreed to go.
Somehow, it had happened that, if I was going
somewhere, I wanted her along--and she wanted to go
with me. And, if she were going somewhere, she wanted
me along--and I wanted to go with her. The destination
was almost unimportant. And this little fact of life
had snuck up on us so gradually that neither of us had
even realized it yet.
Anyhow, there we were, seeing "BROOOOOOOOOCE
SPRINGTEEEEN... AND THE E! STREET! BAAAAAAANNNND!!" on
their tour in 1980, supporting The River album (still
my favorite.) It was stupendous. It was mind-boggling.
It was The Greatest Show On Earth. I knew all the
words. I sang along. I shouted myself hoarse. Alex?
She started the night with a "So what's this Bruce
thing all about, anyway?" look on her face.
By the time they did "Rosalita" she was standing on a
chair. Yelling a lot. I knew the words, she didn't, so
when they did "Thunder Road", I made sure I sang the
"Show a little faith, there's magic in the night" line
right at her. Because it was true. And I was rewarded
with That Smile. Times ten.
She babbled the whole ride home about how great it
was. Another convert for BossMania. I walked her to
her porch, and, instead of running in the door, she
grabbed me. And kissed me, long and deep. I was
breathless--and I know she was, too.
Bruce Pixie Dust? I hoped not. This time I was going
to test the theory. Well, first, I had to make sure
the convert was taken care of, so I went out the next
day, headed to the record store, and bought Alex a
complete collection of Bruce. I presented them to her,
she squealed delightedly, kissed me again--and slammed
the door in my face. And sheepishly opened it a second
later, inviting me in to listen with her. I laughed,
let her go explore the Majesty of Bruce by herself,
and told her I'd see her later.
It was that night, on my porch, one of our chat
sessions. Except there wasn't much chatting. I pulled
her close, and kissed her... and kept kissing her. We
broke the kiss, and I could feel her breath on my
cheek. She reached down and planted little kisses on
my neck. I entwined my fingers in her curls. She
rubbed my back. Then she looked in my eyes again, and
I kissed her again.
I think that one lasted about three weeks.
When we finally broke the kiss, and caught our breath,
Alex leaned over and whispered in my ear, "My God,
I've never been kissed like that in my life."
I just laughed. Then, she grabbed my face in her
hands, looked into my eyes, and said, "So, are you
going to do it again, or do I have to beg?" I didn't
waste any time.
We necked for a while. It was glorious. Then she had
to go inside.
--Six--
The next afternoon, Alex came and knocked on the door.
I opened it for her, and she walked right past me into
the kitchen, grabbed my car keys off the table, handed
them to me, and said, "Let's go for a ride."
We drove for a bit, and then she said, "Just exactly
what happened last night?"
"Well, you *were* there. And it seemed to me that you
were a willing participant."
She giggled. "Very willing. But, what I meant was, is
something happening between us?"
"That's a question, isn't it? Well, from my end there
is."
"FINALLY!" She yelled.
"Huh?"
"Well, I was thinking about it, and I realized
something. I think I've only admitted it to myself
recently, but.....I've been in love with you since
that Truth or Dare game."
I think I just about drove off the road. I managed to
control myself, and pulled into the first parking lot
I could find. I found an out-of-the-way spot, turned
to her, and said, "You *are* kidding."
"Oh, it just dawned on me recently. But, think about
it. You're the only guy I know who's like me. You're
sweet, you're kind. You make me laugh. When I'm with
you, I'm happy. You make me feel whole. And I couldn't
really define it until now, but I've known it since I
was ten. And, I think I've been waiting for you to do
what you did last night for a very long time."
"Oh, man."
"Don't worry, Chris, you're timing's perfect. I
probably would have run screaming out of sheer terror
if you had done that any earlier, no matter how much I
wanted you to."
I laughed. "Well, I'm slow on the uptake. It took me
until the first time I made you laugh."
"That long ago? Why didn't you say something?"
"Why didn't YOU say something?"
We looked at each other. And cracked up laughing.
"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" I said.
"Yup. See--we even get terrified together, without
even knowing it."
I took a deep breath. "I love you, Alexandra."
"I love you, too, Christopher."
That was all that needed to be said. From that moment
on, we were A Couple.
It was understood.
--Seven--
Actually, considering we had been close to inseparable
for some time by then, not much changed. Except, when
we walked to the store, we held hands. When we grabbed
a couch and a couple of books to read, we did so with
her head in my lap. And we still talked--we just
kissed a lot more in between sentences.
I suppose the proof was late that summer, when she had
a pen-pal that she had corresponded with for years
come to visit for the first time. She was from
Ireland, and she came over for a couple weeks. Alex
introduced me to her as "Chris, my boyfriend." That
made it official.
Of course, there were a few other changes in our
relationship. Alex was a Good Girl, I had known that
from the start. Virginity was saved for the wedding
night. Of course, there's a huge gulf between kissing
and intercourse, but I was unsure how much of that
gulf she was willing to traverse. We never talked
about it.
I was unsure when it came to that. I suspected that I
was her first *real* kiss, and I knew for a fact that
she had never been touched. To be honest, both of
those statements were true of me, also. It was the
blind leading the blind.
To this day, neither of us knows if she sent out a
subtle sign that I caught, or if I just guessed right,
but, one day, in October, we were kissing. She was
sitting indian-style on the couch, facing me, and I
was twisted, half facing her, and our lips were
locked. I had my hand resting lightly on her stomach,
and I just slid it up. I half-expected her to remove
it. She didn't. She sighed, and pressed her torso
forward, as if to increase the pressure my hand was
putting on her breast.
So I did it for her -- pressing against her breast
through her shirt and bra. She practically stuck her
tongue down my throat, and then she broke the kiss,
concentrating on what I was doing to her breasts. She
leaned back, so I could get my other hand up there.
She sighed contentedly and gave me a smile, different
than her usual one -- but just as good.
After I was done, she looked up at me with those
shining eyes, and said, "Oh, goody. Another way to
make me feel good. You just keep coming up with those,
sweetie."
From there, things progressed rapidly. The next night,
out parking, I had her shirt completely off. A couple
nights after that, she shocked me by reaching for my
belt buckle, while I had contemplated trying to get in
*her* pants but was scared to try. There had been a
limit she had set, but, beyond that, she was willing
to try anything..
As I quickly found out, when she engulfed my member in
her mouth. I was shocked. Stunned. And harder than I
had ever been in my life. I had jerked off, of course.
What teenaged boy doesn't? But, that was nothing like
*this*. She was inexperience, unpracticed, and I had
to hiss `Watch the teeth!' once. But it didn't matter.
It was fantastic. She was fantastic.
After a couple of false starts, she was bobbing her
head up and down like someone who had actually done
this before. I felt my climax building, warned her,
she ignored me, and I came -- in a torrent -- right
into her mouth. I was more shocked and more stunned.
She climbed up next to me in the back of my station
wagon, a little satisfied smile on her face. "Well,
that's a bit of a different taste. I think I like it,
though."
I stared at her. "Alex, you amaze me."
"What, you think us shy, demure virgin types don't get
horny?" she laughed.
"Oh, I get it. You just did that to me so I'd return
the favor," I teased her.
She blushed. "Oh, no, Chris... I didn't mean...no,
I've always wanted to do that for you... no, I didn't
expect..."
"Relax," I interrupted. "Do you think I have even the
slightest problem with returning the favor? Lie back."
I pulled off her pants and panties, and got my first
ever look of a girl's pussy. I worshiped it. I
worshiped her. And then, I worshiped her, and it, with
my tongue. I'm a pussy addict. My favorite
participatory sport is cunnilingus. And it all started
that night.
I found her clit and massaged it. I ran my tongue up
and down her pussy. Her heavy breathing got ragged,
and then turned into little squeals. Then she came,
bouncing up and down so hard she almost broke my nose.
Not that I would have minded--or noticed, for that
matter.
"Nnnnnnggggg..." was the first thing that came out of
her mouth after she recovered the ability to breathe.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw me there,
grinning at her.
"Y'know," she said. "I've had orgasms before. Playing
with myself. But never, ever, ever like THAT."
"Funny, I was thinking the same thing a couple minutes
ago."
That opened the floodgates. We became the First Couple
of Oral Sex and Mutual Masturbation. The barrier was
still down on the other thing, but who cared? And
there were chips in that barrier. "I'm waiting until
I'm married" gradually became "I'm waiting until I'm
ready." So, ready could mean tomorrow, it could mean
three years from now.
As long as I got to worship that beautiful pussy of
hers, I could wait until the earth spun off its axis,
for all I cared. And she knew that. The sex was great
because it was based on trust. You don't have sex with
someone two to three times a week and not ever have
actual intercourse unless you trust that person
completely. She knew I respected that barrier, and
would never attempt to tear it down.
It wasn't all sex, it's just that the sex was new. You
don't start a relationship with someone you've been
friends with for nine years and have it just based on
sex -- it's impossible. I knew Alex, inside and out,
and she knew me. We studied together. We went for
walks, or drives. We tried to go out to eat at least
once a week. We still read together, her lying on the
couch, head on my lap. It was, looking back now on it,
idyllic. I spent a lot of my senior year in high
school with Alex.
Of course, there was a looming problem.
College.
--Eight--
I had started looking at colleges the previous year. I
thought I might want to get away. We lived in the
northeast, and there was a school in the Midwest that
I took a liking to. This school was my first choice
before Junior year ever ended. By the time it came
time to actually apply to colleges, my life had
changed.
Alex, of course, wasn't going anywhere. She still had
two years of high school left to go.
She encouraged me. My reasons for getting away were
valid, and she thought it would be a good thing. I
applied to some local schools, and got into them, but
also got into the one in the Midwest. Alex told me,
"If it's meant to be, then it's meant to be. I fully
plan on being here waiting for you when you get back."
So, I decided to go.
But that was six months away, and now was all about
Alex. We had a wonderful first Christmas. I flooded
her room with flowers on Valentine's Day. She baked
soda bread and made Irish stew and took me to a step
dancing festival for St Patrick's Day. We studied,
listening to Springsteen. We fooled around in the back
of my station wagon. We'd leave silly notes in each
other's mailbox. She told me her dreams, and I told
her mine, and we found out that we were each in the
others.
And, of course, there was another Prom. The Biggie,
the Senior Prom. There was no scrambling for a date
this year. Tiger and Bill still had the same
girlfriends, so it was the same cast of characters,
The Three plus Three. And, instead of ending with a
first soul-kiss on a front porch, it ended up with me
waking up next to Alex in a hotel room we had rented.
We had fallen asleep after a wonderful couple hours of
Everything But. That's right, I slept with her without
*sleeping* with her. Waking up next to her, seeing her
beauty in the morning light, was worth the price of
admission.
It was a wonderful summer after that. Knowing that I
was going away in the fall, we spent as much time as
possible together that summer. My Dad made a joke
about wondering if we went to the bathroom together.
The week before I left, she offered "it" to me. But it
was halfhearted.
"Y'know," she said, "I've been thinking about letting
you have my virginity before you leave."
"Do you want to?"
"Part of me does. Really bad, as a matter-of-fact."
"I can understand that. But I'm not taking it until
*all* of you wants to."
She sat for a minute, then just looked up at me and
said, "I love you. When I do give it away, it's yours.
I promise. And I don't think you'll have to wait too
much longer."
A week later, I was a thousand miles away.
--Nine--
I liked school. I liked being away from home. I made a
lot of new friends. I enjoyed seeing another part of
the country. It was cool.
But I missed Alex.
I met Karen. We became fast friends. When I got to
know her I found out that she was...unusual. She was
practically a nympho, with a special fetish for taking
guys' virginity. She found out I was cherry, and put
the full court press on. I told her, "sorry, I'm
saving that for Alex." She teased me mercilessly, and
then told me that it was the sweetest most romantic
thing she had ever heard--and then went back to
teasing me mercilessly about it.
I didn't mind. We were good friends. She really did
respect my decision -- despite the teasing -- and she
was a great kid, lots of fun to be with. I arranged to
have her pluck my roommate, who was *very* nice to me
for a week afterwards.
And, I wrote a lot of letters. I pretty much kept a
diary of my life the first half of that first
semester, but I didn't put in in a notebook. I put it
in an envelope and mailed it to Alex. She did the
same. I ran to the mailbox every day. I know she did,
too. We talked on the phone once a week, on Sunday
night. It usually spilled over into the wee hours of
Monday morning.
The letters got a little less frequent around the end
of October. I didn't mind, really. Writing the kinds
of letters we were writing was time consuming, and we
had work to do. The tone of the letters never changed.
Our phone conversations never changed.
Until Thanksgiving Day. I couldn't come home for
Thanksgiving--not enough money, not enough time. I
called her on the day, and got her right in the middle
of the meal. Normally, that wouldn't have been much of
a problem. However, she sounded distracted--and I
could hear Cheryl yelling in the background, "Did you
tell him yet? Did you tell him?" I asked what that was
all about, and she made something up. She cut the call
off in record time, promising to call me back later.
She never did.
Three days later, I got The Letter.
There was another guy. She had met him through Cheryl.
Now, you have to understand about Cheryl. Cheryl
changed boyfriends like most people changed socks. She
also gave most of them what they were most interested
in. And she hated the whole Chris-and-Alex thing. She
constantly badgered her sister about "throwing her
youth away" tied down in a serious relationship--now,
a long-distance serious relationship. I also believe
she was jealous. I know for a fact that she was a
shrew. She'd like nothing better than to break Alex
and I up. With me a thousand miles away, she saw her
opportunity.
So, Alex had been dating this guy for about a month.
Now, we had no problem with that. I pretty much
"dated" Karen at school. We went out all the time.
Neither Alex nor I expected the other to spend our
time apart walled up like hermits. I had no problem
with her dating.
I had a big problem with her surrendering her
virginity to someone that wasn't me.
She was lonely, and horny, so she let him get a little
physical. Then she let him get a lot physical. Then he
was over her, insistent, begging, and she was saying
"no, no, no" and all of a sudden she found herself
saying "yes".
Oh, she was pushed. No doubt about it. Do you think I
couldn't have pushed her? After all our times of
mutual gratification, don't you think that barrier of
hers was paper-thin? It was. It would have only taken
the slightest push on my part, and it would have
crumbled. I had known that for close to a year. I
swore to myself I would never do that.
And now, someone else had.
She had surrendered her virginity. And mine was still
ingloriously intact.
The rest of the letter trailed off into tear stains,
half scribbled apologies, pleas for forgiveness, etc,
etc. When I read the letter sometime later, I realized
that she never did say that she wanted to break up.
She also hinted that this guy had been pushed right
out of the picture shortly after the Event. But, I
didn't pick up that subtext right away, that first
time I read it. I took it as a breakup. And a
horrible, agonizing betrayal.
I reacted maturely, calmly, completely in control of
my emotions. Right? Who am I kidding. I was eighteen
years old. I LOST it.
Tore my half of the room apart. Screamed. Cried.
Called her every nasty name I could think of, in every
language that I knew them, and even made up a few of
my own. Then I had one of my of-age floor mates buy me
a bottle, and I got toasted. Then, I called Karen.
That was a no-brainer. I was betrayed. I was horny.
Karen was willing. She was surprised. Thought I was
saving myself for Alex. "Yeah, and I thought Alex was
saving herself for me. I was wrong." I showed her the
letter. Karen, bless her heart, knew this was a
revenge-fuck, and still didn't mind.
She told me she'd help me out.
It was good. She was great. The girl had talent, no
doubt about it. The orgasms were fantastic. She knew
what she was doing. But it wasn't what I had expected.
It wasn't profound. The earth didn't move. The stars
didn't realign themselves. Hey, I enjoyed myself. It
was a lot of fun, Karen made sure of that. I was
satiated, completely.
But I wasn't content. Because it wasn't Alex.
--Ten--
I spent the next week in a fog. Then I got a
surprising phone call.
It was from Andrea, the middle Callaghan sister.
Andrea had started life trying to be Cheryl Two, and
quickly found that that didn't completely work for
her. She was still boisterous, fun-loving, the life of
the party, but she had avoided becoming a manipulative
contemptible bitch. She was a good kid. She and Alex
never quite understood one another, but I helped,
because I loved Alex and was inordinately fond of
Andrea. I considered her the kid sister I didn't have,
and she felt the same way. And, despite their wildly
different personalities, there *was* a bond, a strong
one, between Andrea and Alex.
Which is why Andrea called me. She was worried about
her sister. She had managed to drag the whole story
out of Alex.
"Chris, it's Andi. Look, you've got to *do*
something!"
"What do you want me to do, kid?"
"I don't know, but *something*. Alex can't eat. She
can't sleep. Cheryl is walking around here like the
cat that ate the fucking canary, and I want to shove
my fist down her throat. And Alex is a walking pile of
depression. She reads your letters and cries. She
looks at your picture and cries. My parents, as usual,
are oblivious. But, Chris, right now she *hates*
herself. How can you keep getting up in the morning if
you hate yourself?"
"Andi, you know what happened?"
"Yeah. And I know you must have been devastated. But,
dammit, Chris, she is too. I know she did this. I know
it was her fault. I also know if there was any way to
take it back, she would. I also know she still loves
you. And I know damn well that you still love her."
"Yeah, I do." I took a deep breath. "Look, Andi, I
need a sign from her. Something. Doesn't have to be
big. But I need something. I need her to take the
first step, even if it's a baby one."
"I'll work on it."
It took a week for Andi to bolster Alex's courage, but
a week later, there was a card in my box. It was a
small one, which said "Thinking of You" on the
outside. Inside, she had written,
---
My dearest Christopher,
Words can not say how sorry I am.
I can only hope that someday you can forgive me Please
don't hate me, because I love you, And I always will.
Alex
---
I read it, and read it, and reread it again. I think I
hugged it a little bit. Then, I composed my reply.
Since I was flying home in a week for Christmas break,
I kept mine short and simple. I just didn't want to
leave her hanging until I returned. I bought a small
card, and wrote,
---
Alexandra, my love,
If love exists,
All things are possible.
Does love still exist?
It does here.
See you in a week.
Chris
---
--Eleven---
I got off the plane, and looked for my parents. They
knew the flight, the time, all that, and were coming
to pick me up. Or so I thought. Unbeknownst to me,
Alex had gotten her driver's license two weeks before.
Also unbeknownst to me, she had convinced my mom to
perform a Switcheroo.
I spotted her first, and my heart skipped a beat. I
think I thought she was an illusion at first, since I
wasn't expecting her to be here. She was looking in
the other direction, and didn't see me coming. I think
I ran. I dropped my carry-ons, picked her up, swung
her around, and held on for dear life. As a reward, I
got The Smile, and then I got a hot, heavy, weak-in-
the-knees soul kiss in the middle of thousands of
people in a busy airport.
We talked on the way home. Then--since it was too cold
on the porch--we went to my room at home and talked
some more. I forgave her before she asked me to. I
told her about Karen, and she said she understood. She
cried, I cried, we held each other, and we kissed a
lot.
I had made an appointment with one of the local
colleges to inquire about transferring. It looked like
it would be completely doable. Alex was a little
upset, because she was afraid that I was transferring
home because I didn't trust her anymore.
"Not at all," I told her. "It's got nothing to do with
trust. It's got everything to do with love. I just
can't bear to be that far away from you anymore."
That, she wholeheartedly agreed with.
Christmas Eve, Tiger and Bill came over. Their
previous girlfriends had been high school flings, so
they showed up with their new college girlfriends. I
was still with Alex. Thank God. The girls were very
sweet, there was more bonding, and we ended up
drinking too much eggnog and going out around my
neighborhood singing Christmas Carols. We weren't that
bad. Heck, if we had been sober, we might have even
remembered all the words. People threw money -- or
tomatoes -- and the proverbial Good Time Was Had By
All. Alex and I exchanged gifts at midnight.
And, for New Year's weekend, my parents went away.
Alex came over on New Year's Eve. I made spaghetti
with marinara sauce--Mom's recipe always works -- and
we broke into my parents' wine stash. We ate, we
drank, we talked. And then I took her upstairs.
It started like it always had. I took her shirt off,
and played with her sensitive breasts. She was fairly
small, but that was OK, because I had found I could
fit almost a whole breast in my mouth and still tease
the nipple with my tongue, a little maneuver that
drove Alex wild.
Then, I moved down. Boy, had I missed worshiping her
this way. She was soaked. It was heavenly. I curled my
tongue into a little funnel and probed her entrance. I
brought my tongue up and down her pussy lips and
flicked it at her clit. Then I settled in on her clit,
and started moving a finger in and out of her hole.
She went wild -- even for her -- thrusting her hips at
my finger and face. She gasped. She moaned. She
gripped the sheets, then gripped my head, practically
tearing a couple clumps of hair out. Did I mind? Are
you kidding? It was fantastic. She had never been all
that verbal, but, when she came, I got a very
satisfying "oooooOOOEEE!" from her.
I crawled up beside her, and she pulled me into her.
"Chris, I want you to make love to me. I need you to.
I need you to make the hurt go away. I need you to
make it all better. I need you. I need you in me, I
need it so bad."
"Sweetheart, you *don't* have to beg."
She smiled at that, but kept it up as I adjusted
myself, murmuring, "I need you... I need my love
inside me... need it so bad... oh I need it..."
She got it. It took some effort. She was tight. It was
worth the effort. I finally got myself buried to the
hilt, and rested for a minute. She looked up at me,
and gave me That Smile. Times a million.
I gathered her up to me, and started moving, in and
out. This was so intense, and it was my second time,
and I had no illusions about how long it would take.
Not very.
Alex lowered her face to my neck, kissing it lightly,
as I gently thrust in and out of her. Then she moved
her lips up to my ear, and whispered. "Oh, my love, I
waited so long for this. This feels so right...oh, I
needed you so bad....I could do this forever."
I chuckled and whispered back. "Unfortunately, *I*
can't."
She giggled, and said, "It's OK. I don't mind. I
already had one. It's your turn." Her breath was
getting more and more ragged. "It's OK, Chris. Cum
inside me. I want you to. Cum for me, Chris." By this
time, her words were punctuated by gasps, and I knew
she was getting close, but I just couldn't hold out. I
did what she told me to do. I came, spectacularly, up
inside her.
As I lie on top of her, still buried in her, I
realized something. I was still hard.
She realized it, too. "Hmmm," she giggled, "seems to
me like somebody's not done yet."
"Alex, you're a miracle worker," I said. She giggled
again. "Let's try something." Without disengaging, I
put my arms around her back, and rolled us over.
"Hmm. This is interesting," she mused. She adjusted
her legs and arms to get some leverage. She ended up
sitting up straight, hands on my stomach for leverage.
Then she started moving herself up and down on my
member. "Oooooooh, I think I *like* this!"
I put my hands on her hips to steady her. "I think I
like this myself."
"Ummmm.....oohhhh.....That's cause I'm doing all the
work....."
"No, that's not it at all. It's because I get to watch
you."
I wasn't kidding. She had her ringlets of hair pulled
back off of her face with a bow, but a few had
escaped, and curly strands framed her face and snaked
down her neck. Her face was flushed. Her eyes were
closed. At one point, she bit her lower lip, showing
me the small gap between her two top front teeth, a
feature that I had always found endearing. Her chest
heaved from exertion and excitement. She started
murmuring something. I couldn't hear at first. Then it
got a little louder; "Oh God it's so good it's so good
it's so good oh God oh God!"
I could tell she was close, so I strengthened my
upward thrusts in time with her downward ones. She
groaned, and then dropped her arms by her sides. I
increased my leverage on her hips as she approached
her climax, and she lost control and flopped around.
When it hit, she fell forward and lied on my chest for
it, moaning and writhing on me as her pussy spasmed
around my cock. I wrapped my arms around her. It was
fantastic. She was in no condition to do much of
anything after that, so I flipped her over and
finished myself off, enhanced by her dreamily
whispering "I love you... I love you..."in my ear the
whole time.
--Twelve--
We were cuddling after that, my arms wrapped around
her, when I felt her shiver. I gradually realized she
was shaking. Her whole body was convulsing. Then, I
realized why--she was crying into my chest.
"Alex?"
"Oh, Chris, I'm so ashamed."
"What, about this? You are kidding, right?"
"No, not about this." Her voice got quieter. "This
should have been my first time. You should have been
my first. "
"And you should have been mine. There's no use crying
over spilled milk."
"Yeah, but at least yours was fun. Mine was a
disaster."
She had never talked about it. We talked about *us*,
but not him, or that. I sensed she needed to, so I let
her. "It really was a disaster, you know. I had let my
hormones get the best of me. When he touched me, I got
so horny, because it had been so long, and I was ready
by then. You were going to get it when you came home;
I had already decided that. But he touched me, and I
needed...*something*... and I think I let him go all
the way because by that point I desperately needed to
get off and nothing else he was doing was making it
happen, because he had no clue. And even doing *that*
didn't get me off.
"He was horrible. And I felt like dirt the whole time,
wishing I was with you. I even tried to fantasize I
was with you, but I couldn't, because every inch of my
body knew that I *wasn't*. I regretted doing it before
I even started, but I couldn't stop myself. And Cheryl
made it worse. She gloated.
"She spent a week saying to me little Miss Perfect
finally gives up her precious virginity, and it's not
to her own boyfriend! And worse." She sighed. "Then,
I'm here with *you*, our first time, and it's
everything I could have dreamed about plus more. It
was fantastic. I haven't come down to earth yet." She
looked at me. "I made you wait forever. Now I wonder
why I made you wait. Especially when it turns out that
I couldn't."
"First of all, it was worth the wait. Second of all, I
really don't care anymore that I wasn't your first. I
am kinda hoping, however, that I *will* be your last."
I must have said the right thing, because the version
of That Smile I was treated to could have lit up four
star systems.
"Alex," I told her, "I know you as well as you know
yourself. I've known all along that beneath that calm
exterior lies raging passions. I suppose I shouldn't
be surprised. I'm just glad you're bringing those
passions into *my* bed."
"And, my dearest Alex, before I go back to school, I'm
buying you a vibrator."
She was still giggling when I drifted off to sleep.
--Thirteen--
I awoke the nest morning with somebody's hands wrapped
around my morning Woody and someone sitting on my
legs. I fluttered my eyes open, and there was Alex,
straddling me. "Hello, sleepyhead. Glad you woke up.
You certainly wouldn't want to sleep through this,
would you?"
"You don't waste any time, do you?" I asked her.
"Hey, we've had a year and a half of foreplay." She
sank down on me. What a way to wake up.
Alex was confirming a discovery she had made the
previous night. She liked the female superior
position. She liked it a lot. I was not complaining.
And, I made a discovery about her. Alex makes slow,
tender, gentle love in the morning.
She straddled me for well over an hour. She cuddled
me. She kissed me, and nuzzled my neck, and ran her
fingers through my hair. I rubbed her back, and played
with her breasts. It was like making out, except I had
my cock buried deep in her pussy. Sometimes she rocked
back and forth. Sometimes she lifted up, and settled
deliberately back down, and then did it again 30
seconds later. Sometimes she just let it be in her. It
was unhurried, calm, gentle, altogether indescribable.
In the middle of it, I reached up and whispered in her
ear, "I didn't think it was possible to be this close
to another person."
"I woke up," she said, "and decided that I wanted to
crawl inside you and wrap you all around me."
When we finally came, it wasn't an explosion. It was
more like a cool, gentle summer rainstorm at twilight
taking the edge off of a blazing hot day. It was
something I'll never forget as long as I live.
We had all day, all night, and most of the next day
before my parents came home, and we made up for a lot
of lost time.
--Fourteen--
We explored each other as much as possible before it
was time for me to go back to school. I actually did
buy her a vibrator, much to her amusement, and told
her that she had to confess in her letters whenever
she used it. She confessed a lot, much to *my*
amusement. She called it The Substitute. She used to
write, "You made me so horny over the phone that, as
soon as I hung up, I had to use The Substitute."
The transfer was approved, so when I came home to her
arms in May, it was for good. And in time for *her*
junior prom. My new school was 45 minutes away. Not
quite next door, but close enough. She spent so much
time there with me that she fell in love with the
place, and decided to go there herself. Of course, the
first year I was there, she was still in high school.
I put a ring on her finger that Christmas. Her parents
had a slight conniption -- how many high school
seniors go back from vacation with an engagement ring?
-- but we promised them a long engagement. We were
waiting until we both got out of school, but we wanted
to make the promise to one another.
I graduated school, and got a good job right away. I
moved into an apartment, and Alex moved in with me.
Two years later, she graduated.
The wedding that summer, as befits us, was a Time.
Tiger was the best man, Bill was an usher, and Alex
chose Andrea as maid of honor, which delighted me.
Cheryl had thought herself entitled to the position,
as befitting a twin, and had a snit about it, but Alex
told her, "Refresh my memory. Which one of you tried
to break us up, and which one helped us get back
together?" Cheryl didn't even show up. She wasn't
missed.
So, maybe not the first, but The Last, forever and
always. And, getting another look at That Smile was
extra special, when it was accompanied by, "I do."
--Epilogue--
Alex still makes sweet, gentle, tender love in the
morning.
We have three kids. Sasha is ten, Bruce (of course) is
seven, and Katrina is five. Sasha has a crush on the
boy next door, and still doesn't get why that makes
her parents laugh so much.
And there was this tour, last year. Bruce Springsteen
and the E Street Band, reunited. We each have our own
computer, in adjoining rooms (hers in the bedroom,
mine in my study) and the MP3 bootlegs of shows from
the tour were popping up days after each show. We'd
play a game of "who can find what", yelling at each
other through the doorway.
"I got Copenhagen and Berlin!"
"Oh yeah, well I got the first three Meadowlands
shows!"
Did we attend a show ourselves? What, are you kidding?
Fourth row seats, got off the internet, and though I
joked about having to auction Katrina off to pay for
them, it was worth every penny. They played all the
good stuff and Alex caught one of Miami Steve's guitar
picks. It was, as it always is, a Time.
Bruce was ending every show with a new song. It's
called "Land of Hope and Dreams." We knew all the
words, of course, from all those bootlegs. There's a
couplet in there: "Dreams shall not be thwarted, faith
will be rewarded." You got to admit, the man has a way
with a lyric, because truer words were never spoken.
And, every time I sing those words to Alex, I get--you
guessed it--That Smile.
And I never get tired of it.
--fin--
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 78