~Subject: "Hope" mf love/romance
~From: drambo@cloud9.net (Dawson Rambo)

                  * * * * * * * * * * * * *
                            "Hope"
                       By Dirty Dawg

   Basic Disclaimer : Your better-than-average younger man older
woman story here, folks. If you feel that a 17 year old male is too
immature to handle an adult sexual relationship with an older
woman, than this story is probably not for you.

                  * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   I can't begin to tell you what Hope means to me. My mother died
when I was very young, so young in fact, that I hardly remember
her. She is a faded image in my mind, and only old photographs
remind me of what she once looked like. She was very pretty my
mother, and I guess I miss her. That may sound a little cold and
callous, but I never really knew her.

   Hope, on the other hand, was another story. Hope is my best
friend's mother, and I have had a crush on her for as long as I've
known what girls and boys do together in the bedroom. It got very,
very bad during puberty, and now, at the tender age of 17, it's
finally levelled off. But there's a good reason for that. Hope and
I...wait. Let me start at the beginning.

   Hope is the kind of wife and mother that reminds you of those
perfect women in sitcoms. Always ready with a plate of fresh-from-
the- oven cookies and a ice-cold glass of milk, Hope helped form my
opinion of what a woman should be. Even at that tender age, I knew
that Hope was different from other Moms. She was smarter,
funnier...sexier. It wasn't like she was slinking around the house
in a silk dressing gown, flashing glimpses of her underwear at my
tender, underage eyes. She never looked inappropriate; it was just
that she has this...fresh, sexy appeal, kind of like one of the
girls you see in a beer advertisement, or a chewing-gum commercial.
I know how stupid and insipid that sounds. My father summed it up:
There are girls you want to meet, and girls you marry. Hope was
both.

   When the first stirrings of my teenaged lust started appearing,
Hope was the primary focus of my fantasies. In my fevered jack-off
dreams, I saw her and I together, doing things that I still had no
names for, things I only knew would feel perfect if I were to do
them with her.

   Looking back now, I know that Hope was aware of my feelings,
painful and immature though they were.  She always treated me well,
and I like to think that she thought me the son she never had. I
mean, I know she had a son, but...you know what I mean.

   Jeff was her son, and my best friend. We met in the first grade,
and it was basically set from there. Even now, after all that's
happened, he and I are still best friends. He doesn't understand
it, and I'm sure he doesn't agree with it, but I know that he'll be
my best friend until the day I die. Just as Hope will be my one
true love.

   What happened is that during the summer between my junior and
senior year, several things happened. Jeff's father left Hope and
moved in with his bimbo secretary. It was an old story, but no one
had seen it coming. Hope had always thought she'd had a happy
marriage, that her husband was satisfied and content. Amazing what
a pair of nineteen-year old tits can do for a man, huh?

   What also happened is that I broke up with a girl that I'd been
dating for about six months in a futile attempt to get Hope out of
my soul. Erin dumped me for a better-looking jock, crushing me. And
Jeff started dating his first serious girlfriend.

   What happened, then, was that Hope and I found ourselves
spending a lot of time alone. I would go over to Jeff's house to
see if he was doing anything, and more than likely he was screwing
around, out with Heather somewhere. Hope as all alone, and she was
starting to show some of the wear and tear the seperation was
causing her. Hope still thought that her husband would return after
his midlife crisis, but with each subsequent day, it looked like
the divorce was actually going to happen.

   In all fairness to Jeff's dad, he was handling the thing as well
as could be expected. There were no money problems. He'd agreed to
make sure that Hope and Jeff were well taken care of. Hope didn't
have to worry about finding a job or losing the house. She just
missed having a husband around.

   As I was to find out.

   One Friday night I got to feeling kind of lonely, so I headed on
over to Jeff's house. He was out with Heather again, and Hope was
obviously feeling kind of down.

   "So, what are your plans for tonight, stud?" Hope always called
me that and whenever she did, it made me feel...good.

   "Well, since Jeff is going out, I'll probably just go back home
and watch a video." I tried to keep the hint of desperation and
lonliness out of my voice.

   Hope stopped what she was doing and glanced at me. "Tell you
what. I was just going to read a little and then go to bed. Why
don't we watch the movie together. I could really use some company
tonight, Greg."

   Suddenly, my throat was dry.

   "Uh," I said. "The movie is, uh, at, uh, home."

   Hope waved a dismissive hand. "We'll see what's on cable or pay
per view. No problem. What do you say? I'll pop some popcorn, get
some sodas..." She raised her eyebrows, "Maybe a beer or two...?
What do you say, huh?"

   In to the breech, dear friends.

   "Sure." Hope laughed gleefully and clapped her hands. She set to
work instantly. In ten minutes we had a big bowl of popcorn, a beer
for me and a glass of wine for her.

   Pay Per View was showing one of those heavy-duty R-rated movies
that had lots of nudity and sex in it. Hope looked at me,
embarassed, but I just shrugged, and we went back to watching. The
plot of the movie was a gift from the Gods. An older woman's
husband leaves her for a younger woman, and she gets her revenge by
taking over the company she inherited from her father but the
dallying husband runs. In one later scene, she's talking to the
dictaphone, remarking about how since she doesn't have a man in her
life anymore, she'll have to make her business the focus of her
life.

   I was reaching for my third beer when I heard the sound next to
me. Hope was on the other side of the couch, and I saw that she had
sniffled. She was crying softly, staring at the screen, her eyes
out of focus, her thoughts obviously somewhere else. As she
continued to think about whatever it was (and I'm sure I know what
it was,) the tears increased. Even crying, she was beautiful. Hope
was so wrapped up in whatever it was that she was thinking about,
I had a moment to really, really look at her. I'd always been shy,
and I preferred to look at pictures of Hope that were around the
house.

   I was reminded again just how beautiful Hope was. She wasn't
wearing any makeup that night, and at the tender age of 36, she
looked better than some of the girls I went to high school with. I
studied the soft line of her jaw and suddenely wanted to kiss it
very badly. She was wearing soft chinos and a blue oxford. The
first three buttons were undone, and I suddenely realized I could
see the edge of her lacy bra. That was somehow more exciting than
if I had seen her naked. The thought that her full, round breasts
were just underneath that smooth, silky material made my blood
pound. I actually started to salivate.

   She finally noticed me staring at her and snapped her head
towards me. "Oh," she said softly. "I must look horrible. I'm
sorry." "No!" I said, meaning it. "Don't be sorry." I reached for
the remote and snapped the TV off. The room was suddenely quiet.
Hope put her hand on her forehead, shading her eyes as another sob
wracked her body.

   "It's just that..." Hope took a deep breath and then did
something that shocked me. She held her hand out as if she wanted
me to take it.

   I did.

   She pulled me towards her, and I slid across the couch,
wondering what was going on. Hope released my hand and used that
arm to grab my shoulder. She pulled me towards her, and for one
panicked moment I thought she was going to kiss me.

   Hope buried her face against my chest and started crying in
earnest. My arms went around her and we just held each other. I let
her get it out, and as she continued to sob against my chest I
realized this was probably the first time she had really cried
about the whole thing. She was the kind of woman, the kind of
mother, that would want to present a strong front to Jeff.

   I felt oddly touched that she felt she could do this with me, in
front of me. My hands were massaging her back, and the little dirty
boy inside my head announced that my fingers were running over her
bra strap, and that her warm, full breasts were pressed firmly
against my chest. Completely and utterly against my will, my cock
hardened in my pants.

   I thanked God that the way were sitting hid my thumping erection
from her view.

   "How could he do it?" she wailed. "How could he...fuck that
little bimbo?" Hearing that word come out of her mouth both amazed
and aroused me. The blood started flowing even harder to my cock,
and I started to feel a little lightheaded. The beer and the
growing arousal I was feeling began to take effect.

   "I think he's crazy," I said softly. I turned my head against
hers and kissed her clumsily on the side of the head, through her
hair. She clung to me tightly after the kiss, and I returned the
embrace, starting to get comfortable with the feeling of Hope's
body against mine.

   She started to pull away. One of my hands slid up her back and
over her shoulder, and I cupped her cheek. Her skin felt hot and
electric under my fingers. I stroked her cheek. She looked up at
me, and the pain in her eyes, the betrayal, the lonliness was
overwhelming.

   One of her hands came up and found my face. She traced my chin
with her thumb. Her other hand came up to the one I had on her
face, and she gripped my wrist. She was looking up at me, her eyes
searching mine, looking at my face, at my lips. I could feel her
breath on my skin, feel her pulse under my fingers. Her heart was
beating fast, almost as quickly as mine was. I knew that we were
going to kiss. I made a small movement with my head, stopping long
enough to give Hope a chance to back out. I haven't necked with a
lot of girls, but I know alot about body language, how to send
signals, how to telegraph intent before action. As I paused, Hope
gave me a chance, moving her face a fraction of an inch closer to
mine. We did it that way, tiny intimate little steps, until our
lips were an inch apart. "Are you sure?" she said, opening her
mouth, showing me moist tip of her little pink tongue.

   "Never so sure in my life," I whispered back, and pressed my
lips against hers. Our mouths worked together softly, gently. It
was the most perfect kiss in my life. All the years of crush and
desire had added up to this moment in time. I knew that Hope had
been aware of my feelings for her, and how they had grown. As our
mouths opened and we softly, gently exchanged tongues for the first
time, I had a feirce wish to be ten years older. At twenty-eight,
I could mean something to this woman. I could be a part of her
life. I could fill the void left by her bastard of a husband.

   All I was now, I knew, was an eager young man willing to let her
find solace in the warmth of my embrace. It was a learning
experience for me, a passing of the sexual torch from one
generation to another. A rite of passage; every young man has an
older woman in his life, a surrogate mother who lets him see what
is fine and beautiful about women, aside from their bodies and
their faces. Every man has that woman, the one that shows him what
life will be like when he finds The One to spend it with.

   The kiss ended and we pulled apart...just a little. We touched
foreheads for a moment, and I kissed her dryly there.

   "We shouldn't," Hope whispered, but her fingers were pulling me
tighter against her even as she spoke. I took a second to catch my
breath; Hope's kiss had stolen it from me. "Do you want to?" she
whispered. "Jeff won't be back for hours...and I need to feel
beautiful again." Her eyes came up and found mine, and she bit her
bottom lip waiting for my answer.

   "I've never..." I started. "You'll have to show me," I said
after a second. She closed her eyes and nodded softly. "You're so
beautiful, Hope. So damn sexy..."

   "You think so? You really do? You're just not saying that?" I
took her head in my hands and kissed her again. It was gentle for
a second, and then we were hungrily mouthing each other. I pulled
away and kissed the tip of her nose. At that moment, I finally
understood what the word intimacy meant. No more secrets.
"I...think about you when... I touch myself," I whispered.

   She smiled, and it wasn't the condescending smile of a
cheerleader or a prom queen, the dismissive grin of girls I could
never have. It was the warm smile of a woman accepting a strange
sort of heartfelt compliment. She understood its import; Most boys
my age were thinking about those same prom queens and cheerleaders
when they took themselves by the hand. I had chosen her, a fully-
grown and completely realized woman as my sexual ideal. She was all
woman to me. "Greg," she whispered again. "I want so badly to feel
you next to me..."

   "I want to take my time," I said. "I've thought about this for
my entire life. I want to learn everything about you tonight.
Everything."

   "Yes, you dear sweet man, yes. Everything." We stood from the
couch and hugged firmly. Her arms were pressed against my chest,
and then they went around my torso, around my back, pulling me
against her as we kissed again. One hand ascended to my neck and
she pulled me harder against her, using her fingernails to lightly
scratch me. If I'd been a cat, I would have purred. We were sharing
breaths now, breathing through our nose, not breaking the kiss. She
could feel my urgent need, my hunger for her, and she stepped back.

   "Not here," she said. "In the bedroom." She took my hand in hers
and led me to her bedroom, the place where she and her husband had
made love countless times before. It was a truly symbolic act that
was not lost on me. I was, in a way, replacing a man that had
wanted out. I had wanted in.

   Once there, she sat me on the bed and stood between my spread
legs. She took my hands and placed them on her waist. I kissed her
tummy through the skirt and she smiled down at me, running her
fingers through my hair.

   "Undress me," she whispered. With shaking hands, I started
unbuttoning her shirt. Each tiny white button slipped through its
slot with a soft click! sound. I tugged the shirt out of her
waistband and saw the wide expanse of her flat, silky belly. I
buried my face against her skin and inhaled her fresh, clean scent.
I kissed her stomach and licked it softly and she groaned.

   "Are you sure you've never...?" she giggled, and I smiled into
her skin.

   "Never," I assured her.

   Talking stopped as I stood in front of her. Hope is about five
inches shorter than me, and she looked directly into my eyes,
burning my soul with a laser, as I slid the shirt off her shoulders
and down her arms. The lacy bra I'd glimpsed before was in my face
now, her creamy breasts jiggling with her shaky breath. She was as
excited and nervous as I was.

   I lightly traced her neck with my fingers, trailing them down
her throat, across the top of her chest. Lightly, ever so lightly,
I traced the outline of her bra-covered breasts. Biting her lip and
shivering at my touch, Hope stood higher on her toes, trying to get
more contact from my hand. I said nothing, only watched my hand as
it moved across her chest to find her other breast through the
sexy, silky material of her bra.

   I lowered my face and kissed the side of her neck as my hands
went around her back, searching for the clasp of her bra. It
seperated under my touch, and I remembered Jeff telling me how hard
it was to get one of those undone.

   Not if it's right. If you're sweating in the backseat of a car,
wrestling with emotions as well as your date, your hands are
unsteady. But when you've got the woman of your dreams standing in
front of you, her eyes cast down as you remove her bra, revealing
her to you for the first time as she awaits your approval,
everything is smooth as silk.

   The cups of Hope's bra clung sweatily to her breasts for a
moment, and then the wispy garment fell in a white lace puddle at
her feet. Her face was still down. Her breasts sagged gently
against her ribs, and I reached out and cupped her face.

   "Look at me," I whispered. Slowly, she raised her face to mine.
"What's the matter?"

   "I wasn't sure that you'd...I mean, the girls your age are all
so...fresh and..."

   "Shhh," I said, putting a finger across her lips. "Listen to
me... If I wanted to look at your breasts, just your breasts,
just... breasts, I'd go rent a movie or buy a magazine or go to a
strip joint. I want to make love with you, Hope. All of you. Every
exquisite inch of you."

   "Oonnh!" she said, lifting her face to mine, throwing her arms
around my neck, pulling my face against hers as we kissed again,
another spectacular explosion of intimacy and sweet, pure passion.
We kissed for...hours, it seemed. My arms were looped around her
waist, and I took two handfulls of her rump, pulling her against
me. It felt soft and exquisite in my hands. A woman's soft, round
ass. I loved it. I wanted to kiss it.

   My hands went to her belt and I loosened it, finding the snap
and releasing it. The unlocking metal teeth of the zipper sounded
incredibly loud, almost accusing, as I slid it down. Hope did
something with her hips, and the pants slid to her feet. She
stepped out of them, now clad only in a tiny pair of light pink
panties. I could see the dark mat of her bush through the material,
and I knew that's where I wanted to be.

   In time, my son. Patience.

   "Now you," she said, moving her hands to my waist. I'd been slow
and gentle, but Hope was eager and hungry. She tugged the t-shirt
out of my waistband and lifted it over my head, bearing my chest to
her gaze. I'd worked out a little over the past few months, and my
chest and abs were tight, tan and trim. "Mmmm," she said, leaning
in to kiss me between my pecs. "So young...I'm going to have so
much fun corrupting you!"

   "Sit back," I said, stepping away to heel-toe my sneakers off.
I fingered the socks over my ankles next, and made quick work of my
501's. I was like her, in my boxers, a pole of need in my shorts.
"Lie down," I whispered, and then joined her on the bed. Holly
moved as if to take me into her embrace, and I gently pushed her
back, turning her over onto her stomach.

   "Let me play," I requested, and she settled. I started at her
legs, just above her ankles, lightly kissing her calves. Slowly,
gently I moved upwards, kissing the back of her knees, the backs of
her thighs. The vertical smile of her rump greeted me next, and I
kissed each cheek softly. My fingers followed my lips, stroking and
squeezing everything gently, trying to stimulate her, turn her on.
It was working, because Hope was squirming under my touch, under my
caress. I was filled with the power of making a woman respond to
me; I felt invincible, manly, macho.

   I kissed her spine slowly, moving closer to her shoulders. "Turn
over," I said, and she did. Her breasts shimmied with her motions,
but I ignored them for the moment, kissing just below them, moving
down. Hope's legs bent at the knees, and she spread her legs. I
could smell her scent wafting from between them, tantilizing me
with her aroma. It made me salivate.

   I kissed lower and lower, and then moved between her legs.
Lifting them above my head, Hope slid her panties off and down, and
then tossed them away. Slowly, her legs came back down, and then
she spread them, allowing me my first unobstructed view of her. She
was beautiful. Exquisite.

   I closed my eyes and moaned.

   "What?" she said, worried.

   "You're a work of art," I said, lowering my face between her
legs. Her bush was an inch from my nose and I kissed it, feeling
her curlies in my nose. Blowing hot air with my mouth, I reached my
tongue out and gently tested the waters. Her natural lubrication
was tangy and tart, a treat for the tongue. I instantly wanted
more.

   "Tell me," I whispered. "If I do it wrong, tell me. Teach me."

   "Oh...you're doing wonderful," she moaned. "Perfect. Don't
stop!" My arms went around Hope's legs as I settled between them,
and began to eat my first pussy. Gently at first, and then with
growing hunger, I licked and sucked at her snatch, finding all her
intricate tissues. I used my fingers to spread and open her, and I
saw the eye of God staring back at me as I extended my tongue and
used a long, thrilling lick from the base of her pussy to the top,
stopping only to circle her clitoris once, twice, and then down
again, delving inside her molten cave to taste her again.

   "Oh! Oh! Oh!" Hope groaned, lifting her hips off the bed and
twisting them against my face. I renewed my attack, using more
friction and moisture, using one of my hands to tease and caress
her clit as I used my tongue to lick and gently suck at her juices.
Hope was getting closer now, ever so much closer. A woman was about
to have an orgasm because of what I was doing to her, and I didn't
want to miss a thing. I looked up, surprised to see Hope fondling
her own breasts, pulling and twisting her rock-hard nipples. Her
eyes were closed and she was tossing her head from side to side,
biting her bottom lip, hunching her hips up off the bed into my
face. Hope's hands left her breasts, finding my head, pressing my
face against her sex harder as she dissolved into her first orgasm
under my tongue.

   It was long, drawn-out and very wet. Her cunt saturated my face
with her orgasm and I went wild, licking and sucking and gulping.
I didn't want to miss a single molecule of her. I wanted it all.
She was on my face, in my mouth and on my tongue, in my hair and
eyebrows and eyelashes. It was the scent of love, of pure passion,
of desire and hunger.

   Finally, she pushed me away, rolling me onto my back. Hope
rolled on top of me, and we shared a tender, intimate kiss. "Thank
you," she said. "Thank you so much."

   "For what?"

   "My husband...hates to do that. He thinks it's gross." I kissed
her again, and then said, "Tell you what: I'll make you a deal. Any
time you need someone to go down on you, you give me a call, and
I'll be happy to relieve the itch."

   Hope laughed and kissed me again. It was a wonderful sound, a
sound I could listen to for the rest of my life. Hope continued to
kiss me, and then she started moving south. She kissed my hairy
nipples, and then between them, and then my stomach, and my belly
button. My cock was throbbingly erect. I was so ready for her, so
eager for her touch.

   She got between my legs as I had done for her, kneeling, bending
over, letting me watch her breasts sway with her movements. She
grasped my cock with her perfect hand and stared at it, whispering
softly. "It's perfect. So hard and strong and...FAT."

   I laughed at that. I remembered someone's words: Doesn't matter
how long it is, as long as it scrapes the sides. Apparantly that
was true, because Hope lowered her face and kissed my cock softly,
as if it were a rare treasure that needed to be savored. That's the
best description that I can find. She savored my cock, licking its
entire length gently, softly, getting me wet and slick with her
mouth. She lowered her face and licked my balls, something I'd
never even considered. The feeling was delicious, and it sent
shivers up and down my body. "Mmmm," Hope moaned into my testicles.
"I love the taste of your nuts!" That was a little dirty, a little
kinky, and it turned me on. I began to understand that you could
mix the good and the nasty together and get a potent concoction.
The thought that Hope trusted me enough to show this side of her to
me was exciting and a little scary at the same time.

   "Yeah, suck my balls," I said softly, and she lifted her head to
smile at me.

   "You must think I'm a horrible slut," she said with a grin.

   "Yeah...but you're MY slut!"

   She laughed that gay, happy little laugh. "You do understand,
don't you?"

   "Yes, I do. Every woman wants to let her hair down from time to
time and just be a person, instead of a wife and a mother. And
every person needs a little nastiness, a little kink, a little
delicious sleaze to feel alive and wanted and desired." Hope had
been stroking my cock during my little speech. "I'm so glad that it
was you..." she whispered. "I couldn't imagine a more perfect night
with anyone else." And then she lowered her face, opened her mouth,
and slid the entire length of my cock into her mouth and down her
throat. I gasped with the sudden contact of her mouth and tongue
and lips against my cock.

   Slowly at first, and then gaining a little speed, Hope bobbed
her head up and down my cock, using one of her hands to stroke my
thighs, the other to gently massage my balls. Her face was closed
in concentration or pleasure, and I just sat back and watched her.
It was going to be soon, I knew, but I wanted to enjoy it as much
as possible. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined Hope making
love to me orally. It was just too much to hope for.

   And then I was there, feeling my nuts tighten in Hope's hand.
She massaged them, squeezed them, used them to lift my cock deeper
inside her mouth. My cock throbbed once, twice, and then I was
shooting, filling her mouth with my cream. Hope sucked and gulped,
eagerly welcoming it all down her throat.

   She slithered up my body and kissed me. I could taste myself in
her mouth, and it only made me kiss her harder.

   "Make love to me, Greg," Hope whispered. "Please!"

   Hope gazed into my eyes as she slowly brushed the hair out of my
eyes. Her eyes were soft and sweet and loving. Her smile was small
and secret, and I knew a little of what she felt. No matter what
happened in my life, no matter where I went or what I did, or who
I eventually became, no one could take this away from me, this
perfect night with Hope.

   I was a little scared as I rolled her over. This was It. The Big
One. The loss of my virginity to this exquisite woman. I had wanted
nothing else for as long as I could remember. And now here it was,
in front of me, waiting for me, beckoning me. Hope spread her legs
open beneath me, and I felt the heat and moisture of her crotch
pressing against mine. My cock had barely gone down since cumming
in Hope's mouth, and I was eager to get started, but remembered my
manners.

   I lifted my weight off of her and reached down to grasp my rod.
It felt hard and fat, even to my hand. I slid it up and down her
leaking slot, looking for her entrance. Hope smiled at me and
reached down, guiding me to her entrance. I felt her opening, and
slowly inserted the first inch.

   I don't remember what I thought sex would be like, but this was
not it. It was a million times better than I could have ever
possibly thought it would be. Inch by slow, hard inch I filled Hope
with my rod, watching her face as she felt me inside her for the
first time. She bit her lip sexily, smiling up at me, and then
closing her eyes and groaning low in her throat as I bottomed out
inside her. Hope's vaginal walls clasped me snugly, milking me.

   Hope laughed out loud. "You should see your face," she kidded
me. "You look like you found God."

   "No," I managed to whisper, "But I've found my Goddess..." And
then, as she smiled wider at me, I started moving, withdrawing my
prick slowly, feeling her walls trying to hold me inside her. I
left just the tip in and then slid forward again, grunting at the
pleasure and the ectasy.

   "A little faster, please," Hope requested, and I quickened my
pace. Hope pulled my head closer to hers and lifted her face to
kiss me. Our kiss was soft, gentle and loving. That's what this
was, I realized. We were not fucking, we were not having sex...we
were making love. Two people that cared deeply about each other as
individuals were expressing their love and care in the best way
possible. This was an incredibly special and intimate moment
between two people, and I wanted to savor it all night long.

   Our lovemaking wasn't hurried or rushed, allowing the both of us
to experience maximum pleasure and satisfaction. Hope's blowjob had
given me a little stanima, and my oral sex had given her more
natural lubrication. Her legs came up and closed around my waist at
the same moment her arms closed around my neck. I was cocooned by
her body, by Hope's pussy and breasts and face and mouth, and at
that moment, in the middle of all that pleasure and closeness, I
sincerely wondered if her husband had lost his mind. I mean... what
man wouldn't want to come home to this woman every night? She was
funny and smart and heart-meltingly sexy? What more could you want?
Sure, she didn't have the tight, trim body of a teenager. But she
did have experience and intelligence and compassion, things sorely
lacking in most of the teenagers I knew personally. She was warm
and giving. She was everything I ever wanted, and I cursed my bad
luck for not being older, not being a man for her to love, a man
she could welcome into her life. I wanted to stop this, just for a
second, stop this carnival ride of lust and pleasure and quietly,
gently explain that I wanted to spent the rest of my life with
Hope, that I loved her more than anything in the world, more than
I could ever hope to love anyone in my life.

   Instead, I continued to make love to her, continued to use my
cock to give her pleasure, continued to do my best to be a man for
her. I was getting close, I knew, and it wouldn't be long before I
exploded in my first orgasm inside a woman. I was aware that Hope
hadn't cum yet, and I wanted to change that. I wanted her to cum
with me; I knew it was probably unrealistic to expect that we would
have a mutual orgasm, but I desperately wanted her to cum with me
inside her. I reached a free hand down and gently stroked her clit.
Hope's eyes flew wide open and she bucked against me, lifting her
hips harder against my groin. I felt her vaginal walls clasp
incredibly tight around me, and then it happened.

   "Oh, you dear sweet man, please do come inside me!" I had no
choice. Hearing her ask for it, beg for it, plead for it did it to
me. I grunted and shoved, burying every last inch inside her,
twisting my hips, letting me pubic hairs scrape against her clit,
trying to bring her over the edge with me. Miraculously, it
happened. We came together, clutching our bodies against each
other, sweating and smiling and kissing as our brains exploded in
mutual, simultaneous pleasure. Our mouths broke apart, gasping for
breath. Hope's laugh started low in her throat, and built to a
chuckle. She was laughing out loud, an incredibly happy, joyous
laugh. I knew she wasn't laughing at me, but I was curious.

   "What?"

   "I've never...never had an orgasm with a man inside me before."
I gaped at her, and then realized that her husband must be a
selfish, shitty lover. "Well, I'm glad I could be the first one,"
I smiled. Hope tightened her legs around my waist, holding me
inside her. "You're the only one in my life now, Greg."

   I moved us over until I was on my back. Hope fingered the hair
out of her face, tucking it behind one ear. I wanted so badly to
tell her that I loved her, wanted so much to let her know how much
she meant to me, but I held back. I didn't want to sound like an
infatuated teenager, someone who had no control over feelings
governed more by glands than by brains.

   I remembered a fantasy that I'd had about Hope about a year ago,
and burst out laughing myself.

   "What?" she wanted to know.

   "Nothing," I said. "I was just thinking about a fantasy that I
had about you a while ago."

   "Mmm," she said, tracing my chest with a fingernail. "Tell me
about it."

   "You'll think it's silly," I said.

   "No, Greg. Never!" Her face was serious, and I decided to trust
her. I wasn't sorry.

   "Well...I used to have this fantasy that we spent an entire day
together, as boyfriend and girlfriend, doing all sorts of neat,
romantic things, like having breakfast in bed, then going out and
doing stuff, having a picnic lunch maybe, going to a movie and
dinner, maybe drinks and dancing, and then back to my house for a
night of lovemaking. And in the morning, you wouldn't remember a
thing, and I'd have this perfect memory of a night spent with my
perfect woman." I finished my story and waited to see her reaction.

   "Why wouldn't you want me to remember?" she asked.

   "Because," I explained, "I was never very popular with the
girls, and I wanted to be able to love you, to be in love with you,
to make love with you...without having you feeling embarrassed
or... .silly." Her expression grew serious.

   "Do you love me, Greg?"

   There was a moment of silence. "Yes," I finally whispered. "I
do."

   Her hand caressed my face as she stared into my eyes. Her smile
was soft and tentative. "You have your whole life ahead of you,
Greg. All of it. Why me?"

   I laughed. "Why is the ocean blue? Why does the sun come up?

   It just does, it just is. I don't know why or when...I just know
I do.

   " I looked away. "I'm sorry if that...if that's a problem."

   Hope just kissed my jaw softly, using her hands to turn my face
back to hers. "No problem," she said. Her mouth opened against
mine, and as she slid her tongue into my mouth I knew it was going
to be all right, no matter what happened.

   What happened was that Hope and I made love twice more that
night. As it got late, and we realized that Jeff might return, we
reluctantly got dressed, and I went home. I could hardly sleep that
night, my thoughts so filled with Hope as they were. The next day,
I went back over to see Jeff, and Hope met me at the door with a
huge smile on her face. As I stepped in, Hope drew me into a
passionate embrace. Her hands clutched at me as she drew me against
her, and I kissed her back as hungrily as she kissed me.

   "I have news!" she said, her face alight with merriment. For a
sudden second, I had a fear that her husband had returned.

   "Jeff is going away to camp!" she said. "He'll be gone for nine
weeks!"

   "What?"

   "Jeff is going away to camp! He and Heather got jobs as
counselors at a camp in Maine! They're leaving in four days for
nine whole weeks!"

   And then I realized what it meant. We would have nine weeks
alone together, nine weeks to discover what, exactly, was going on
between us.

   I pulled her to me again, kissing Hope's neck and cheeks.

   "Where is he now?" I moaned.

   "At Heather's," she moaned, wrapping her arms around my neck.

   "He'll be back in about an hour-ooooh!" she moaned as my hands
found her breasts. We sank to the floor and made love right there
on the kitchen linoleum. It was fast and sweaty and eager, and I
kept telling her how beautiful and sexy she was. Once again, she
orgasmed as soon as I did, and as we got dressed, Hope kissed me
softly.

   "I couldn't stop thinking about you when you left," she said.

   "I must be crazy...but I think I love you, Greg."