A couple quick notes. This is a story that features sex, not sex that was forced into a story. If you don't like that, don't read it. There are many sex scenes throughout the story, but there are also some sizable chunks without sex. Consider yourself warned. Also, this story is long – seriously long – about the equivalent of a 180 page novel. If you don't like long stories, don't read it. I thought about breaking it up into several different stories, but I really felt uncomfortable breaking it up. If you read it in chunks, which I presume most people will, I recommend stopping at the chapter breaks and using your browser's find function to skip straight to that chapter the next time you want to read. Finally, if you want to read similar stories that are not as long before deciding if you want to spend your time on this one, I suggest reading some of my other stories (Temptations of a Young Teacher and Lost Hikers are probably the closest). If you like those, you'll probably like this. That all being said, for those of you still interested in reading it, I hope you enjoy it.
Courtney Arnold was my first kiss.
It happened in first grade. We were sitting at our normal lunch tables – I was at the boys' table, she was at the girls' table. In the middle of the lunch period, she got up, calmly walked over to my table, turned my head towards her and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. Then she smiled at me and walked back to her table.
I vaguely remember the eruption of laughter and giggles at the girls’ table, along with the sounds of disgust from the boys around me. However, it was all background noise to me. I was completely zoned out. I watched Courtney as she walked back to her table and stared at her for several minutes after that before snapping out of it. Some of the boys were laughing at me and many of the girls kept turning around to look at me and giggle.
I knew I should have been as disgusted as the other boys sounded, if not more so. Obviously, girls have cooties and no one wants those. But if I had just gotten girl cooties, I liked it.
I believe that moment was the beginning of many of my problems in life.
The note on my desk as I walked into my room that morning terrified me:
“Mr. Taylor – Meghan's mom called after you left. Wants to talk. As per your usual request, I told her just to come in after school tomorrow. Hope that's okay. Lynn.”
Lynn was the school secretary. The note was dated yesterday, making the reference to 'tomorrow' now today. I couldn't blame her though. When parents want to meet, I always tell them just to come in after school is over. I'm usually very open and communicative with my students' parents – in fact I had met with the parents of every student in my class that year – except Meghan's. Of course there was a reason for that. A very good reason – at least to me. I guess I couldn't avoid it forever. I just wish I had more than seven hours to prepare for it.
Courtney had lived down the street from me all our life. I'm not sure how our mothers had ended up being such good friends. I never really asked. All I know is that our mothers were indeed such good friends, and spent many days together when I was very young. Even after both of them got jobs when Courtney and I were in third grade, they still spent many afternoons together after work. Both of us being only children, this meant that we were brought with our mothers when they went to each others’ houses or otherwise went out up until we were about ten years old.
Obviously, spending hours upon hours together had led us to be very close. But for whatever reason, we only seemed to be friends outside of school. In school, we'd be nice to each other, but we didn't really hang out. Courtney spent her time with the girls while I hung out with the boys. It was just the way our elementary school was. That kiss was an aberration in Courtney's school behavior, and nothing of the sort happened in school again.
We never talked about the kiss. I never even asked her why she did it. In retrospect, my best guess is that one of the girls dared her to, but there's really no way to know.
I guess when you are that young, you don’t know what a kiss means. While I knew I had enjoyed the kiss, it didn't change my view of Courtney. She was just my best friend. We played games together, had tickle wars, wrestled each other, dunked each other in pools, and things of that sort. The kiss faded into one of the many things we did together. It wasn’t until fifth grade that something else happened.
We were eleven, and my mom went over to visit Courtney's mom after she got back from work. For about a year now, my mom had stopped 'forcing' me to go with her when she visited Courtney's mom, saying I was old enough to watch myself for a couple hours at home until my dad got back from work. However, most the time, as the case was this day, I still went over to hang out with Courtney, just as she usually came over to hang out with me when her mom visited, despite the fact that her mom had stopped making her come over for nearly two years now (I had been very jealous that Courtney was allowed to be left alone before I was).
Courtney's parents had a pretty big house, especially considering there were only three people living there. It was two stories, and actually had four bedrooms on the second floor – her parents' bedroom, her bedroom, a guest bedroom, and the fourth bedroom was turned into a playroom for Courtney when she was younger, though it wasn’t used much anymore. The house was huge compared to my parents’ house, which was just one floor with only two bedrooms. Courtney's house was probably close to twice the size of mine.
Because of its size, the house had many hiding spots and was great for hide-and-seek, which is what we ended up playing that day. Courtney started counting downstairs while I went upstairs to hide. I couldn't count how many times the two of us had played hide-and-seek in her house. I usually hid in a very hidden spot – behind toys under her bed, behind clothes in her or her parents' closets, behind towels or linens in one of the linen closets, stuff like that.
That day though, I decided that since she usually checked those really hidden spots first now – because they were where I always hid – I would, for the first time in a long time, pick a more obvious hiding spot, and thus one she probably wouldn't check for awhile – her parents' shower. Her parents' shower had two sliding doors, one was a mirror and the other was just slightly obscured glass. I quietly slid open the door, stepped into the shower, and shut the door, pressing myself up to the wall behind the mirror, as out of sight as I could be.
Sure enough, it took Courtney ages to find me. She came to the bathroom multiple times to check the towel closet in it, but she left each time, never checking the shower.
Finally, I heard the door slide open quickly and Courtney shout, “Found you!”
I just smiled and responded, “Took you long enough!”
Courtney smiled back and said, “It was a good spot, not one of your normal places.”
“Thanks,” I replied, smiling at the compliment.
Courtney stood at the entrance to the shower for awhile looking at me. She held the sliding door open with one hand, blocking my way out, though it didn't appear intentional. There was a weird look on her face, but I didn't know what to make of it.
After a minute or so of standing there I announced, “I guess it's your turn.”
“Yeah,” Courtney mumbled in response. But she didn't move.
“Are you going to let me out, or do I have to get past you?” I was smiling, looking forwards to trying to push past Courtney. We often played little games like that.
But I guess that wasn't her intention.
Her immediate response was, “Can I see your thing?”
My mind being somewhere else, I was confused by her answer, and simply responded, “Huh?”
“You know, your thing.” She brought a hand out and pointed towards my crotch. “Can I see it? I've never seen one.”
My hands instinctively covered my crotch, even though I was wearing jeans, and felt my face flush as I looked down at the floor. I immediately shouted, “No!”
There was a short pause. Out of the tops of my eyes, I saw Courtney's head move up slightly as she looked at my face while I looked down at the floor.
Several seconds later, she began talking again. “Have you ever seen a girl's….” She paused for a second, before finishing, “Stuff?”
I looked up at her face and just shook my head no.
Courtney smiled, and not wasting a second, said, “I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours!”
Then there was a long silence. A deion of Courtney and myself should help explain this silence.
Courtney was an early bloomer while I was a late bloomer. She wasn't tall per se – there were taller kids in our class at school – but she was probably close to half a foot taller than me. I was one of the shortest kids in our class. I'd guess she was about five feet tall, compared to my four foot seven. We had been about the same height most of our lives, but in third grade Courtney started to grow faster than me. She was just barely taller than me in third and fourth grade, but since the summer before fifth, she had grown really quickly while I hadn't, leading to the big difference between us now. I asked my mom about this at one point, and she said I would grow eventually and probably would be taller than Courtney in the end, as both my mom and dad were pretty tall, while Courtney's mom was short, though her dad was about average height.
Another thing that changed while Courtney was growing was her body shape. She used to be kinda round, like me, or her mother. Not that I, or her mother, was fat. I think we were both average, though her mom might have had a little extra weight. But since Courtney had grown, her body had thinned out a lot. Earlier in the year, when she was wearing shorts, I could see how long and skinny her legs had become. Her arms were the same, they looked liked they had just been stretched from the arms she had before. My arms and legs were still short and slightly rounded.
Courtney also had two obvious bulges on her chest. I had first noticed them over a year ago, at the beginning of fourth grade, but I thought nothing of them. We hadn't gotten the puberty talk at school, that came in sixth grade (this was the early 80s, I know it comes earlier nowadays). However, I knew enough to know that both her and my bodies were going to go through changes, that she would get boobs while both of us would get pubic hair. That was all I thought of it.
With her offering, I suddenly was curious to see her growing boobs. I was also curious to see if she had gotten any pubic hair yet. However, that curiosity was nearly overrun by the embarrassment of showing Courtney my body. Her body obviously was changing, but mine was not. I had no pubic hair, and my 'thing,' as Courtney had so delicately put it, had not grown at all.
The embarrassment won me over, leading me to break the long silence.
“I don't think that's a good idea,” I muttered out, looking back at the ground.
I couldn't see her face, but I could hear the disappointment in Courtney's voice. “Come on,” she nearly begged, “it's not that big of a deal!”
Still staring at the ground, I shook my head no.
There was a brief pause.
Suddenly, the pause was broken by Courtney, excitedly saying, “I know! We'll do it through the shower door! Then we'll barely be seeing anything!”
I had looked up the second Courtney started talking, surprising me with her excitement. I looked over at the slightly obscure glass door. She was probably right. The glass door was obscured enough that you couldn't see clearly through it, but could probably just make out an outline of what was on the other side. I still wasn't sure though.
“I don't know,” I muttered out.
“Come on, Johnny,” she pleaded. That was my name, Johnny Taylor. Johnny wasn't a nickname for John or Jonathan, it actually says 'Johnny' on my birth certificate.
I looked up at Courtney and saw her giving me a puppy-dog face. I felt myself caving. I noticed that she was also standing kind of weird, with her chest pushed out towards me. I didn't think anything of that. Looking in her eyes, I said, “Promise not to laugh?”
Courtney got a confused look on her face and her body went back to normal, her chest no longer pushing towards me. “Why would I laugh?”
I kept my eyes locked on hers and just repeated, “Promise.”
Courtney suddenly went all serious. She put one hand over her heart and held one up in the air beside her and recited, “I promise that I will not laugh for any reason.” She then put her arms down by her sides and looked at me.
“Okay,” was all I could say.
“Yay! This will be so fun!” With that, Courtney pulled the glass door closed, leaving me in the shower and her just outside of it.
“Now,” she began once we were standing exactly opposite each other, “When I take my shirt off, you take your shirt off. When I take my pants off, you take yours off. When I take my underwear off, you take yours off. My bra counts as underwear, I'll take it off last.”
I nodded to show that I understood.
Courtney grabbed the bottom of her shirt and asked, “Ready?”
I just grabbed the bottom of my shirt and nodded in response.
And then Courtney started pulling off her shirt, and I started pulling off mine. Courtney dropped her shirt on the floor and I dropped mine in the shower. My eyes immediately went to Courtney's gray training bra. While it didn't show much, it made her mounds more obvious than her T-shirt had, though nothing I hadn't seen through a swimsuit before. I could see little dots at the end of each boob. I also could see the bottom of Courtney's rib cage below her bra and her hip bones sticking out above her jeans.
I didn't get much time to look though as Courtney had immediately unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, again asking, “Ready?”
I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, grabbed the sides of them, and nodded.
Again, Courtney pulled her pants down quickly, and I followed suit. Both of us stepped out of our pants. I could see Courtney's skinny legs and her crotch covered by tight underwear covered in strawberries. I was now standing in just my royal blue underwear.
As soon as she had stepped out of her pants, Courtney had tucked her hands inside the sides of her underwear, again asking, “Ready?”
I took a deep breath, put my hands in the sides of my underwear like her, and nodded again.
And we both bent over and pulled down. I paused and glanced at myself before standing up, hoping beyond hope that I had somehow grown bigger or grown hair in the past five minutes. No luck. My tiny penis and balls were all that was there, unchanged.
When I stood up, Courtney had her hands tucked under her bra, and she pulled it over her head as soon as I stood up.
And that was it. Courtney and I were both naked, separated only by a semi-obscure glass door. My eyes locked onto Courtney's boobs. They looked like the size of very small apples, but there was enough there to bounce a little as she dropped her arms to her sides after pulling off her training bra. They were topped with tiny pointy nipples sticking out. They didn't look much bigger than my boy nipples, though obviously I didn't have the boobs underneath them.
She must've seen me staring, because after a few seconds, she held her hand with her training bra out in front of her, waving it around. I looked at her face. I saw Courtney smile as she dramatically tossed her bra behind her and then struck a pose, sticking her hips out to one side and putting a hand on that hip and placing her other hand behind her head.
Through all of this I watched her boobs lightly bounce around on her chest. The way she was standing, her two boobs looked different, the one on the side with her hand on her hip a bit lower and fuller than the one on the side with her hand above her head, making that small boob look stretched out.
After awhile, my eyes drifted down her skinny body to the tiny little line between her legs. Her legs were only the tiniest bit apart, so all I could see was the tiny line. I was also dismayed to see some tiny, nearly-colorless hairs sticking out around the line. She was obviously already getting pubic hair and I was not. I felt my face flush in embarrassment as I made that connection, but I couldn't pull my eyes away from Courtney's naked body. I just kept looking back and forth between her boobs and her little line between her legs.
I have no idea how long we stood around like that. It could've been five seconds, it could've been five minutes. All sense of time was lost to me. Time didn't come back until we heard the sudden shout up the stairs of, “Johnny, time to go!”
Initially, I just shook my head a bit, coming out of the daze I was in. Courtney, however, appeared to freak out. She quickly spun around and bent down to pick up her training bra. I froze. When she bent over, her legs were slightly spread and she hadn't bent her knees much, giving me a view of her tiny pink butthole and a flash of pink inside that small line between her legs. She was only in that position for a couple seconds, if that, but it was a view that would haunt me for years to come.
As she started putting on her bra, Courtney noticed I hadn't moved. Sounding scared and hurried, she whispered, “Come on, get dressed!”
I immediately jerked out of my daze again and suddenly felt the fear she felt at getting caught. I reached down for my underpants and pulled them up.
I was surprised that my penis was now sticking up. I had been hard before. It was sometimes like that when I woke up or during a shower. I had never noticed it getting hard before though. It either was hard or it wasn’t. That was the first time I'd notice it start soft and get hard, the first real boner of my life. Back when I was much younger and my mom showered me, she called it a 'hat hook' when it was like that, because you could hang a hat on it. When I asked why it happened, she just told me it was like that sometimes. And that was the sum of all my knowledge up until then. I was suddenly embarrassed that Courtney had seen it hard, even getting hard at that. I quickly tried to comfort myself with the thought that she probably couldn't see me very well through the slightly obscured glass. But then I remembered how clearly I could see her through it and threw that thought out the window. I wondered what she thought of it.
I never found out though, as we both quickly rushed to get dressed.
In less than half a minute, we were both dressed. I got out of the shower, closing the door behind me to leave it as it was when I got there. Then we both ran to the top of the stairs.
Just before the top of the stairs, Courtney grabbed my arm and stopped me. I looked at her. With a serious look on her face, she whispered, “Don't tell anyone about this.”
I simply nodded in response, apparently all I could do. My voice was lost ages ago. As soon as I nodded, Courtney smiled and we started down the stairs. We were both slightly out of breath from running.
Both our moms were talking at the bottom of the stairs. When we came into view, my mom broke off her conversation with Courtney's mom and asked, “Playing hide-and-seek, again?”
Courtney just said, “Yup, Mrs. Taylor! I won.”
My mom laughed and said, “Looks like Johnny's pretty bummed about that!” I obviously wasn't as good at covering up my emotions as Courtney, who was smiling and did look like she had just beaten me at hide-and-seek. I on the other hand felt like I looked scared, which my mom obviously interpreted as sad about losing.
We finished walking down the stairs as our moms finished their conversation. My mom walked out the door and I followed. I looked back briefly. Courtney's mom waved at me. Courtney winked at me.
Then my mom and I walked home.
Courtney and I didn't talk about it until nearly a year later. She acted like it never happened. I was too scared to bring it up. However, after our sixth grade puberty talk in school, we spent the day at her house again. The puberty talk was separated into a boys group and a girls groups. Courtney wanted to hear what the boys' talk was about (getting body hair, shaving, a lower voice, erections – which I finally learned were caused by arousal, and wet dreams). She then told me what the girls' talk was about (boobs, pubic hair, shaving, periods). Then she suddenly asked if we could strip in front of each other again. It took even more talking into for me this time. I had only grown a couple inches in the last year and still no pubic hair. Meanwhile, Courtney had grown at least three inches more and had bigger boobs, and no doubt pubic hair. I fought it for awhile, but ultimately could not outlast Courtney.
So we stripped the same way we had before, only this time it was in her bedroom and there was no glass door separating us. Seeing Courtney take off her bra, show me her real boobs that now looked the size of full grown apples, instead of small apples, with darker nipples, and darker pubic hair that nearly hid the line between her legs, compared to me and my still hairless, less than two inch penis, ended with me in tears. Courtney came over and hugged me, pulling my head into her. At my height, that put my head resting against her boobs. She kept telling me that it was okay, that I'd grow someday, and that nothing changed that I would always be her friend. I was too embarrassed to respond, or even to hug her back. The hug didn't last long though. With one of her nipples pressing against my cheek and her pubic hair pushing against my stomach, I quickly got an erection again, not much bigger than two inches. When I felt it poke into her thigh, I pulled away from the hug. I saw Courtney staring at my tiny erection. I couldn't take it anymore, grabbed my clothes, pulling them on as I ran out her bedroom door, downstairs, out her front door, not stopping until I was locked in my own bedroom.
The next day I pretended that nothing had happened. So did Courtney. I think the only reason we remained friends after that was Courtney's amazing ability to truly act like things like that never happened. If she had ever brought it up, even once, I think I would've run away, never talking to her again. But she didn't, and so we remained friends.
Sometimes, though, I wonder if it would've been better if she had brought it up again.
I tried to go about my normal morning routine – straightening desks, changing the calendar, putting newly corrected papers in the students' mailboxes, and planning my lessons for the day. I got through the menial tasks – the desks, the calendar, and the papers. But I couldn't plan. My mind kept going back to the note, and the upcoming meeting, and I didn't want to think about that. Instead of trying to focus, I just decided to wing it (I had done that many times before). I went back to straightening the desks.
I must have straightened the desks eight to ten times before the morning bell rang. Not long after, my fifth graders started walking into the classroom. Some said 'hi' to me, some just walked back to the coat racks. I smiled and said 'hello' to each student as they walked in.
A minute or so after the bell rang, a group of three girls walked in. Two said 'hi' to me, and I responded likewise. Then the third girl looked over at me with an attempted smile.
I couldn't help it. As had happened many times before, I saw right through her clothes, seeing her naked. Or rather, seeing memories of a fifth grade Courtney naked in her place. Meghan looked exactly like her. Every time I saw her, those memories of 'show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine' flooded back into my head and I saw Courtney's naked body where Meghan should be. I hated it. But I couldn't stop it. I quickly turned around, though not before I saw the attempted smile on Meghan's face fade into the frown I had gotten used to seeing there.
After a vigorous shake of my head, trying to get the image out of my mind for the thousandth time, I went to the board to write the schedule for the day and set up the math lesson.
Despite remaining friends, we grew apart after sixth grade. I hadn't truly felt comfortable around Courtney since the last time she talked me into getting naked with her, so I was kind of searching for new friends. Timing was in my favor.
Our school district was divided into three K-6 elementary schools that all fed into one junior high building for grades seven and eight located in a small building neighboring the high school.
I joined the junior varsity soccer team in seventh grade. I had played soccer for four years in elementary school, along with baseball and basketball for one year each. Soccer was the only sport I was really good at. Height didn't seem to matter as much, and I still hadn't grown much. I became good friends with the other soccer players, a couple of which were girls, almost all of which came from different elementary schools. Every weekend a group of us would get together and go go-karting or see a movie or even just hang out at someone's house.
I began to see less and less of Courtney. She joined junior varsity cheerleading and ended up hanging out mostly with other cheerleaders or basketball and football players. We never talked in school. Not even a 'hi' in passing. Every now and then we'd get together at one of our houses and watch TV or talk, but slowly that faded into phone calls every few days (real phone calls, no cell phones yet as this is still in the 80s).
We got together a bunch of times in the summer between seventh and eighth grade, but I think that was mainly out of convenience. She didn't like to be by herself for long, and since most of her friends were now from other districts, that meant she hung out with me instead. She was never mean about it, she didn't treat me like a secondary friend, even though I knew I was. She was actually really nice to me and I was beginning to enjoy hanging out with her. By the end of the summer, I started to really like Courtney. I hid that feeling completely from Courtney, and even tried to hide it from myself, telling myself, first, that it would never happen – we were friends (even friends that saw each other naked a couple times) but nothing more; and second, that we would grow apart again as soon as eighth grade started.
And boy was I right. At least for most the year.
It didn’t take long for Courtney to become the eye candy of our grade. I guess I had been around Courtney so much that I hadn't seen the changes in her. Or maybe I just still saw her as my best friend from third grade, before she hit puberty. It took until one my friends pointed it out before I noticed it.
I was sitting at my lunch table one day with a lot of the other junior varsity soccer guys. I don't remember what we were talking about, but the conversation abruptly stopped when one of the guys saw Courtney coming out of the kitchen area of the cafeteria (in the school you bought your food in the kitchen and then walked out to the cafeteria, which was essentially totally separate from the kitchen). Interrupting another guy, he whined out, “Daaaaaaaamn! Who is that?”
He obviously didn't recognize her from the year before and came from a different elementary school so hadn't known her before that. Obviously, every guy at the table turned to look. Not even thinking about it I responded, “Oh, that's just Courtney Arnold.”
The entire table turned to me like I was crazy, except for one guy who was the only other person there who came from my elementary school. One of the guys who had turned to look, not the guy who first spoke and not the guy from my elementary school, started scolding me.
“'Just?' That's like saying it's 'just' Madonna!” Again, this was the 80s. “Look at that face – she should be in Hollywood with that face! And with that body she should be a supermodel! I mean, did you see those tits? I'd sacrifice one of my nuts to rest my head on those! And those hips, look at them sway! I'd love to rock against them to her beat! And to grab that ass! I mean look at that ass! Look at it! And those legs! Can you imagine having them wrapped around you? Screw sacrificing one nut, I'd give up both just to see her naked!”
As he said all of this, I did look at Courtney. First off, she was one of the, if not the tallest and most physically mature girl in our grade. She stood about five foot five, maybe five foot six, she had very full, very perky breasts, wide-but-not-too-wide hips, and her too skinny legs had filled out and now looked firm, while not being too fat or too muscular. The outfit she had on only amplified the looks. She had dark brown hair with bangs in the front with the rest dropping down to just below the middle of her back. Her top looked like a leotard, fitted to her body (which it very well could've been in the 80s). While you couldn't see any real cleavage, the bottom of the neck was pushed out just slightly from the size of her boobs, probably large B or small C cups. You could also make out the outline of her bra through the top, which just drew more attention to her chest. She had on a bleached pair of jeans with a couple holes in the front and a belt just above her hips. The tightness of the belt emphasized that this girl had hips. As she walked away to her table, her hips swayed from side to side, and there was a slight bounce to her ass. This bounce was emphasized by a hole in her jeans just below her left ass cheek. With every bounce there was the tiniest flash of white through the hole, which was either the bottom of the inside of her back pocket or a pair of white panties. I couldn't tell which.
Looking at her like this, I suddenly couldn't understand how I had missed it all summer. I had been with her once to twice a week and never realized how good looking she was. Hell, not even two years ago I had seen the girl naked (though I didn't focus on that thought because it reminded me of what I was like at that time).
Then it flashed through my head that none of these guys even knew that I knew her, let alone that she used to be my best friend, and was still one of my closer friends. Even the guy who went to elementary school with me. Courtney and I had always stayed apart in school. We hung out with our school friends in school and with each other out of school. I never even really talked about her. She just didn't come up. So here I was, short, immature little me (though I was almost five foot by this point and was finally getting some faint signs of pubic hair) with the ability to blow my taller, more physically mature friends away with my connection with this girl, and I felt I couldn't even mention it because no one would believe me.
So I didn't say anything.
In response to the other guy's deion, the guy who had first seen her said, “Yeah, Johnny. Damn man! How could you miss that?” Then he muttered under his breath, “Just” and shook his head while he turned back towards the table. The other guys followed suit.
I was trying to think up some kind of defense when my friend from elementary school spoke up. “You know, she kissed Johnny once.”
There were gasps of surprise and shouts of “What?” as every person at the table turned towards him.
“Yup. First grade. I was sitting right next to him. She just got up, walked over, and kissed him on the lips. Right there in the middle of the cafeteria.”
There were a couple hoots and hollers from the guys as they talked about how they wish they could say they had been kissed by her, and how I should return the favor by going over and kissing her now in the middle of lunch. One guy was even making out with the air trying to show me what I should do to her.
I, of course, did nothing. I said nothing. I turned red and sat there while all the other guys talked about it. Eventually the conversation died and went on to some other topic, but it was brought up nearly every day after that at lunch, at least in passing.
And the year went on.
Courtney tried out again for junior varsity cheerleading. However, because of a combination of the fact that she was too much taller than the rest of the JV squad and because she actually was really good, she got moved up to the varsity squad at the high school, much to her delight and the dismay of many eighth grade boys.
Incidentally, I almost made the high school varsity soccer team. The varsity team was three players short, so the JV coach picked five guys to try out for it. At the trials, the JV coach suggested me and two other guys were the best, but the varsity coach said he didn't want me. I later found out from the JV coach that the reason he didn't want me had nothing to do with my skill, I was definitely in the top three as far as skill went. But the varsity coach thought I was too small and would get killed on the field. Yet another reason it sucks to be short.
Courtney and I were actually in a couple classes together, but we never talked. We sat on opposite sides of the room in fact. I think that was just coincidence, but who knows. It's not like Courtney suddenly hated me though. She'd still call me once or twice a week and we'd talk for up to an hour about random stuff. She'd often talk about how cool varsity cheerleading was, I'd talk about how I couldn't wait to be on varsity soccer next year, and that I should have been on it this year. Every now and then she'd talk about some high school football or basketball guy that she thought was cool. I tried to be supportive, because I thought if I didn't she'd think I liked her and stop talking to me because she didn't like me like that. She'd also ask me what girls I thought were cute, which I always skillfully avoided answering. Multiple times she offered to hook me up with some girl she knew, more often than not one of the JV cheerleaders, but I somehow found that demeaning and wasn't comfortable with it, so I politely declined. I also was well-aware that I was behind just about every other guy in my grade as far as physical maturity went, which I was self-conscious about. I didn't think a girl would want a guy like me when there were bigger guys out there.
Overall though, the year was going well. I still had my JV soccer friends, as well as some varsity soccer friends as they had been moved up. I held no grudges against them. Not their fault I was short. I got along well, my teachers seemed to like me. Even the other kids in my classes seemed to like me. I became friends with several girls through my classes. In fact, there were three or four girls that probably would've gone out with me if I had the self-confidence to ask. Of course I never did.
Everything was fine until about midway through third quarter. Right up until the day of sexual education.
The way sex ed worked at the junior high was that one day the health teacher would pull out groups of about thirty students at a time and give them the sex ed talk. Each group was either all male or all female – no mixed sex ed in our school. I think most schools in the 80s were like that, but I'm not sure.
For guys, the talk was about how it was natural as you continued through puberty to have sexual urges, but acting on them was bad. Abstinence was good. Masturbation was okay. Sex was bad. No one should fall to peer pressure. Guys often say they have sex when they don't. They shouldn't pressure a girl to have sex. And finally, if despite all this you were going to have sex, use a condom. No matter what. Always use a condom.
For girls, the talk was similar. Urges are natural. Acting on them was bad. Abstinence good. Masturbation okay. Sex bad. Don't feel peer pressure to have sex. Don't be pressured into having sex by a guy. Just say no. And if you do have sex, use a diaphragm or spermicide or some other form of contraception, and also make sure the guys wears a condom. Always use a condom. And don't have sex when you're fertile. They also got a talk about hymens, including how breaking a hymen hurts, so you shouldn't have sex until you are ready, how there will likely be blood when you first have sex, so don't have sex until you are ready, and not to penetrate yourself during masturbation, because you want to keep your hymen intact until you are ready.
I should explain a couple of things here. First, my parents never had the sex talk with me. All I knew about sex I learned through the TV and my friends. Unfortunately, the TV I watched didn't talk much about sex, and for whatever reason, I think it was my physical immaturity, my friends didn't talk about sex much around me either. I knew that sex was a penis entering a vagina and that it created babies. I knew that you weren't supposed to do it until you were an adult. I knew that a condom was something you put on during sex, though I had never actually seen one. And I knew sex was supposed to feel good. That was about it. I had never heard the terms abstinence or masturbation before. I also didn't have the urges most other guys my age had yet because I wasn't that physically mature. Yes, I got erections, and thanks to that sixth grade puberty talk, I knew why, but I never did anything about them, didn't know I could do anything about them, and never felt the need to do anything about them. I thought it was normal to get them and just let them go down. To the best of my knowledge, I had never even had a wet dream, at least I had never woken up with wet underpants and couldn't remember having a dream about sex. So while this sex ed was actually kind of useful to me, it also made me feel even more physically immature than I was.
I wasn't surprised when I got a call from Courtney shortly after I got home that day. It reminded me of the sixth grade puberty talk, how she had wanted to hear about what the guys had heard that the girls didn't get to. Sure enough, that's what she wanted to hear about again, though she thought it was really funny and was laughing about it. She then told me everything that the girls were told, hence my deion above. I was thoroughly enjoying the conversation. Talking to Courtney about sex, I figured, would provide ample visuals to try out masturbation with later.
The conversation faded to other things, cheerleading, soccer, etc. Seemingly out of nowhere, Courtney asked me, “What time does your mom get back from work?”
I figured that she was probably asking because her mom wanted to know, which had happened before. “She left a note here telling me she had some errands to run after work and wouldn't be back until 7:00,” I responded.
“Isn't that about when your dad gets home from work?”
Now this question really caught me off guard. She had never asked about my dad before. “Uhhhh,” I began, slightly confused, “I guess so. Usually he's closer to 7:15 or 7:30.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. I thought about asking why she wanted to know, but for some reason I didn't want to. After a pause long enough to make me sweat, Courtney finally said, “Can I come over?”
Luckily, I think my excitement was hidden by my shock. She hadn't come over since the summer, and hadn't come over during a school year since sixth grade. After what she probably noticed was a long pause, I responded, as calmly as I could, “Sure.”
“Cool,” she responded back, sounding excited, “I'll see you in a couple minutes!”
And then she hung up.
My hand with the phone dropped to my lap while I sat on my bed. I'd like to say I was trying to figure out what was happening, but in reality I was too shocked and confused to think at all. I just zoned out sitting there.
I was shaken out of my zoning when I heard the doorbell ring. I got up and sprinted to the door. I opened it to find Courtney standing there. It was strange. She wasn't really dressed very attractively, she had obviously changed into something more comfortable when she had gotten home from school – a baggy black T-shirt with a colorful Cyndi Lauper on the front, slightly loose jeans full of holes, beat up sneakers, and her hair was much more messy than she would ever let it be seen in school – yet I found her more attractive right then than I ever had before. That might have had something to do with her being on my doorstep.
Courtney waited a couple moments, smiling her beautiful smile, and finally asked if she could come in.
“Of course!” I quickly responded, getting out of the way.
Courtney walked into my house and closed the door behind her. She then turned to look at me, her eyes catching the phone that was still in my hand. A worried look crossed her face.
“You didn't tell anyone I was coming, did you?”
I hadn't realized I hadn't put the phone down and looked down at it, realizing she must've thought I had called some friends to brag for some reason. I defensively shot back, “No no no! I just hadn't put the phone back after you called.”
Courtney's worried look remained for a few seconds before she broke into a wide grin, but said nothing. I wasn't sure what the grin meant, but I took it as a good sign and walked towards my living room to hang up the phone. Courtney followed.
After hanging up the phone on the end table next to the couch, I turned back toward Courtney behind me. Despite having had Courtney in my house hundreds of times before, I was nervous and terrified that she was in my house right now, and she still hadn't said why she wanted to come over yet. I looked at Courtney and she looked back at me. We said nothing.
I finally got up the courage to break the silence and, motioning towards the couch, asked, “Do you want to sit down?”
Courtney immediately replied, “Let's go to your room.”
I tried not to let my mouth hang open, though I felt my jaw drop for a couple seconds. Somewhere in the back of the mind, I had been dreaming and hoping that Courtney had wanted to come over because she wanted to do the old 'show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine' routine. I would've killed to see this near-fully developed hot girl – my best friend for years – naked. However, I never at any point had seriously thought that was the reason she had come over. At least not until right then.
I stuttered a reply of, “Okay,” and started walking towards my bedroom. Courtney again followed.
On the way I built up a lot of courage. Yes, I still was short and underdeveloped, but somehow that didn't matter now compared to the idea of seeing Courtney naked. A couple steps into my room I turned around and asked, “So what do you–”
That was as far as I got. Courtney interrupted me announcing, “I want to try sex.”
This time, my jaw did not drop. I was in too much shock to react. It had not ever crossed my mind that she would want to go that far. I'd like to say that her proposal was like a dream come true, but truth be told I had not even dreamed of having sex with Courtney. I was too innocent. Dreaming of her naked was as far as I'd ever gotten (as I said before, I just learned about masturbation earlier that day).
While I was frozen, Courtney obviously was not. She showed no reaction, no smile of happiness nor frown of unsureness. She simply appeared to be on a mission as she pulled her Cyndi Lauper shirt over her head, revealing her perky braless tits pointing straight at me. She then raised her feet one at a time behind her, pulling off her sneakers and socks, causing her tits to jiggle. Then she undid the button and zipper on her jeans (she wasn't wearing a belt) hooked her thumb in the sides, apparently catching her panties also, and pulled both to the ground, then stepped out of them.
And so she stood before me naked, for the third time in my life. Only now she had a full pair of tits staring at me along with a thick bush between her legs (not many girls shaved in the 80s, let alone eighth grade girls). The sight was something most guys in my class would've sold their souls to witness. And this girl wanted to have sex with me.
Not long after stripping naked, Courtney said, “Your turn now.”
I was still frozen from the moment she told me she wanted to “try sex.” Add Courtney naked in front of me, and it was too much for my mind to process. I stood before her in shock, not responding or moving.
I vaguely remember Courtney exhaling – a huff of impatience I think it was. And then she was kneeling before me unbuttoning my jeans and before I knew it, both they and my tighty-whiteys were around my ankles. I remember Courtney trying to lift one of my feet to get my pants and underwear off. She managed to pull them off one of my feet, but in the process she knocked me off balance and I stumbled backwards, eventually falling into a sitting position on my bed halfway across the room.
Courtney, not missing a beat, walked over to the bed and pulled my pants and underwear off my other foot, tossing them to the side. She then took off my socks, then stood up and pulled the bottom of my shirt up. My arms went up as she pulled, and soon enough I was sitting on my bed naked, Courtney standing naked before me.
I still hadn't wrapped my head around the idea of having sex with Courtney, but she obviously wasn't waiting for me. She pushed me back on the bed hard. I fell back, the sheets being pulled up a bit beneath me. Then, with me laying back on the bed with my legs hanging off the end just a little bit, Courtney climbed on the bed over me. She moved until she was on her knees, one on either side of me, lined up just above my hard dick.
I watched as Courtney bent forward a bit, leaning on one arm with her tits hanging down less than a foot above my throat. Courtney bent her head down to look towards our near-touching genitalia. I followed her gaze as she reached down and grabbed my dick, pointing it straight up towards her pussy. I remember an instance of confusion, looking down and seeing my dick look longer and harder than I had ever seen it before, though it was still barely longer than her hand wrapped around it. But I didn't have much time to think about that before Courtney had lined it up with her hole and slammed herself down.
I've since talked to many other guys, who have said that they can still remember the feeling the first time they were inside a girl, that it is one of their favorite memories. I honestly don't remember the feeling on my dick. Not at all. I just remember watching my four plus inches quickly disappear into the hairy bush of the beautiful girl above me. I remember staring at our conjoined crotches. And I remember the scream from Courtney.
I never looked up at her face, I don't know what her expression was, but I remember that scream. I was in a state of shock, staring at the hairy pussy where my dick should have been, hearing nothing but the high pitched scream from Courtney.
My sense of time from there is completely lost. I think it was a long time before Courtney started moving on top of me, but I wouldn't swear to it. And when she started to move, I couldn't tell you how long she did it for. I was in shock. I felt none of the motion on my dick, I just stared as it went in and out of what was literally my dream girl. I remember seeing Courtney go straight up and down on it for awhile, then change to shifting her hips forward and backward while going up and down, and a little later from side to side, and even later in circles. All the while Courtney would sporadically let out some short high pitched squeals.
At some point her squeals turned into moaning. I don't know when.
My eyes were finally pulled from where we were connected when Courtney grabbed my hands, and pulled them up to her tits. I remember seeing her tits bouncing as she put my hands on them, and I remember seeing the bottom of her chin as her head was back, facing the ceiling.
It took me a bit, but eventually I realized that I could feel the boobs in my hands. I started rubbing them, weighing them, feeling her nipples – simply exploring the first pair of boobs my hands had ever been on. As I started playing with her boobs, Courtney started moaning more loudly, and I watched as she brought a hand between her legs. At the time I was confused and didn't pay attention, returning my gaze to the boobs I was playing with. In retrospect, I of course know that she started rubbing her clit as she fucked me – she apparently had learned about masturbation before that day. It was while she was doing this though that her hand brushed against my dick, and I realized that I could feel my dick too.
My hands dropped from her boobs soon after as Courtney started speeding up on my dick, her moans now smitten with gasps, along with some of her high pitched squeals. A feeling that was totally new to me started building up, and I closed my eyes trying to understand what was happening. Unfortunately, I didn't have much time to worry about it as Courtney slammed her hips down on me and her rapidly moving hand dropped to her side as she let out a scream above her like I'd never heard.
But that scream I barely noticed.
The new feelings building up in me were beyond control. I hadn't quite realized how incredible the up and down motion on my dick felt until it stopped. And I wasn't ready for it to stop. Without realizing it, my hips started rapidly thrusting up into Courtney as she continued screaming and pressing down against me. Time seemed to go in slow motion as my hips seemed to move of their own accord in fast forward. I couldn't tell you how long I was going at it, but I can tell you that Courtney's screaming turned to gasps which turned into throaty wheezes that could only be described as a fight for air.
Then my back arched and my hips thrust so hard up that they lifted Courtney off the bed as I experienced the first ejaculation of my life.
And I wish I knew what happened after that.
To the best of what I can figure out, I must have blacked out.
I woke up some time later. At first I thought I had passed out when I'd gotten home and dreamed the whole thing. Then I saw that I was in fact still naked on my bed, my clothes laying on the floor where Courtney had left them. Two other things were even more telling. First, the smell of sex permeating the room. Second, the dampness left on my now very limp and very small penis. There were also traces of blood left on and around it.
I freaked out seeing the blood and raced to the bathroom to take a shower to clean it off. At first I worried that I had hurt Courtney, but sometime in the course of my shower I remembered Courtney saying the girls were told they might bleed their first time having sex in their sex ed talk. I made myself think it was normal, though it still seemed weird to me.
Not that the rest of the situation didn't seem weird to me too. Awesome, yes, but definitely weird.
After my shower, I could barely walk in my room it smelled so bad. Well, not bad. I kinda liked the smell, but it was very strong, and I was worried about my parents smelling it. I checked the time, and noting I still had an hour and a half before my parents got back, I took my sheets off and ran them to the washer. I sprayed air freshener all over my room too. By the time my parents got back, I was dressed, my sheets were cleaned and back on my bed, and my room smelled normal, if not a little strongly of the air freshener. However, my parents never suspected a thing.
The next morning when I was getting changed for school, I found a pair of plain white cotton panties, obviously Courtney's, in my underwear drawer. I never saw them the day before as she had pulled them down with her jeans, so I don't know what they looked like on her, but I could imagine.
Two things changed after that day.
First, I started masturbating on a near daily basis.
Second, Courtney and I stopped talking.
Courtney didn't call me for the rest of eighth grade. I never found out what happened to her, why she left without saying a thing, or why she put her panties in my underwear drawer. I was too scared to call her to find out or to ask her in school. And with her not calling me, that didn't leave any options.
I assumed that Courtney didn't want me to tell anyone though, so I didn't. Not that anyone would've believed me if I'd said anything. We still saw each other in classes occasionally, but we acted like we always did – like we didn't know each other. Basically, she took my virginity then disappeared from my life.
I fought my way through the morning. I got the kids through three lessons with a thankful period of gym breaking that up. During the lessons, I tried to call on all of my students. As usual though, I failed. I just couldn't call on Meghan. And today was worse than usual. It must've been the dread of the upcoming meeting.
Usually when I looked at Meghan I saw visions of fifth grade Courtney naked. I wish I could say I had gotten used to it three months into the year, but I never did. It still freaked me out just as much as it did on day one. But today was worse, and it got worse as the morning went on. Every time I laid eyes on Meghan that morning, it was like her body transformed before me, changing from fifth grade Courtney to sixth grade Courtney to eighth grade Courtney.
At its worst, I saw her as eighth grade Courtney dropping to her knees before me undoing my pants. I jumped backwards and turned around. I felt beads of sweat on my face. One of the kids asked if I was okay. I lied and said I just suddenly felt very sick. I gave the class a worksheet to work on, telling them they could work with partners so as to avoid complaining.
I went to my desk and sat down, popping a couple Advil from my desk, as if that was going to help. I flipped through pages of a bunch of workbooks, trying to look busy to the students, though I was really just trying to get Meghan, and thus Courtney, off my mind. Every now and then I would look at the class, but I completely avoided eye contact with Meghan. I decided I wouldn't look at her for the rest of the day and hope for the best.
I had never been so happy when it came time to drop the class off for lunch.
The summer after eighth grade passed slowly. Courtney, much to my dismay, did not strike up our usual summer friendship. I got together with soccer friends occasionally throughout the summer, but I spent most of it alone, including a week-long soccer camp and a family camping vacation.
As ninth grade began, I quickly realized that I didn't get to see Courtney at all. We had no classes together and she hung out mostly with juniors and seniors, so she was never around in the ninth grade hallways. To this day I don't know if that was a good or bad thing. It was good in that it should have forced me to think about other things and kind of get over her, to give up my hopes that she would come back to me and maybe go out with me. It was bad in that, well, I didn't stop thinking about her. I maintained my dreams that she would come back to me. Maybe it would've been better if she had been around so that I could face rejection on a regular basis, hopefully more effectively forcing me to get over her. Then again, maybe that would've just made things worse.
Ninth grade passed slowly and blandly. To distract myself from thinking about Courtney, I started focusing intently on my schoolwork and soccer, spending more time on both. I was barely an average student going into ninth grade, but I was a little above average by the end, and my soccer skills were starting to impress the varsity coach, who had to put me on the team, despite my height.
The summer after ninth grade passed as slowly and lonely as the summer before. I rarely got together with friends, and went to two different soccer camps as a form of escape.
Tenth grade passed much the same, with one slight change. I finally hit my real growth spurt. I went from five foot two at the beginning of the year to five foot eight at the end of the year. Due to the growth spurt, some girls started taking notice of me. A couple of them, while not directly asking me out on a date, asked me to some of the home football games. One of them I went with. Unfortunately, I saw Courtney for the first time since ninth grade there, cheerleading throughout the game. And I couldn't keep my eyes or mind off of her. I never went to another game, and mostly ignored the girls showing interest in me, still unable to pull away emotionally from Courtney, who clearly had forgotten about me.
The summer after tenth grade passed even more slowly and more lonely than the summer before. I barely saw any of my friends, spending most of it at home on a summer soccer league or at a variety of soccer camps.
By eleventh grade, I had stopped growing at five foot eleven. But while I was now feeling completely physically mature, I was losing friends. I must have come off as sad and boring when my friends were around me, so they rarely spent time with me. Not that people didn't like me, they just didn't spend as much time with me. While most of my friends would go out dating and partying, I didn't take part in any of that. I wasn't interested in dating anyone but Courtney. After knowing her for so long, I couldn't accept that she was just gone, especially after our last meeting. I was clearly in a clinical depression, not wanting to be social at all, distracting myself the only way I knew how – academics and athletics. I put all my focus into school and soccer at the avoidance of everything else. I was quickly becoming the best player on the varsity team, especially since my growth spurt, and my grades had me in the top thirty of my two hundred person class.
Then it happened again.
It was a Saturday night, the first weekend of November, my junior year. Nothing special was going on that I know of.
I woke up to a quick but light screeching sound. I had had problems sleeping since the beginning of high school – it wasn't unusual for me to wake up in the middle of the night unable to go back to sleep. So I ignored the sound and just rolled towards my clock, seeing that it was shortly after two in the morning.
Then I heard something fall towards the other side of my room.
I quickly sat up and turned over, seeing a figure in the darkness pulling their back leg through my window. The person was bumping against my dresser and must've knocked something off.
“What the fuck,” I announced, for some reason more confused than worried.
The response was a long, drunkenly slurred, “Shhhhhhhhhh, Johnny.”
My heart started racing and my mind went blank as I heard the voice. While the person finally got their leg inside the window and turned towards me, I simply asked, “Courtney?”
There was a drunken laugh as she kicked her shoes off and walked towards my bed. While giggling, she excitedly responded, “Yup!”
By the time she said that, she was standing at the side of my bed, undoing her pants. I sat in my bed in a state of complete shock. She pulled her pants down and off. I found my voice as Courtney started pulling her shirt over her head. “What are you doing here?”
Courtney was having trouble getting her shirt over her head. She started to respond but with her shirt over her head covering her mouth, I couldn't understand it. Apparently trying to talk and take off a shirt was too hard for the drunken girl as she fell to my floor. I quickly leaned over my bed, just in time to see her get the shirt off. She was lying there on the floor, one knee bent up and the other bent to the side, leaning back on her arms in just her matching bra and panties, which I could see through the thin light both had a lace design on them. I think they were red, but I wouldn't swear to it in that lighting.
Looking down at her, I took in her body. Courtney was about five foot seven now, making me about four inches taller than her. She was a bit thinner than I remembered, her hips less shapely and the bottom of her rib cage slightly more visible than I remembered it. Yet even in the drunken mess she was in on the floor, her hair thrown all about her head, she still appeared to me as the absolute vision of beauty.
Looking up to me, Courtney finally responded to my question. “I need to have sex.”
While much more slurred, the statement was just as blunt as the, “I want to try sex,” from three years earlier.
I simultaneously got aroused and even more confused. I just responded, “So you came here?”
Courtney climbed up onto my bed as she drunkenly replied, “Of course!”
“But we haven't even talked in three years!”
Courtney had pulled herself onto my bed in a sitting position. At my comment, she looked at me with what looked to be a terrified look on her face. Her body froze, losing the drunken shaking she had had up to that point, as she very sincerely-sounding asked, “You will fuck me, won't you?”
I don't know if there was any chance I would refuse otherwise, but there certainly wasn't a chance with the look on her face. Courtney had always been the one in charge when we were friends, always the one who knew what to do, I had never seen her look as worried or scared as she did at that moment. Any sense of logic flew out of my head as Courtney stared at me with that look on her face.
“Of course,” I replied, smiling kindly at her.
Courtney immediately broke into a smile and yelled out, “Yaaaaay!” She nearly jumped forward, tackling me back onto my bed. I didn't know what to say, her laying on top of me smiling broadly down at me. I felt her hand snake down in between our bodies, sliding under the sheets and finally under my shorts and boxers as she grabbed my rock hard dick. She seemed surprised when she grabbed my dick, and looked down, though there was no way she could see anything, given the only light in the room was my alarm clock next to my bed. After a second, she looked back up at me smiling.
“You're a big boy now, aren't you?”
I wasn't sure what to say, but the mere feeling of her hand on my dick was incredible, so I simply responded, “I guess so.” I didn't think I was that big, about six, maybe six and a half inches long, and I had always thought I had a skinny dick in high school, but I wasn't going to complain if she thought it was big. It was certainly bigger than the last time she'd touched it.
Courtney shot back saying, “You guess so, huh?” and smiling broadly. She then started rubbing my dick up and down. I immediately started moaning, trying to keep it quiet so as to not wake my parents a couple rooms down the hall (I was kinda surprised they hadn't woken up earlier when Courtney had yelled).
This didn't last for too long, which was probably good as the shock of the whole situation had gotten me close to orgasm quickly. Courtney pulled her hand up, sat to the side, and threw the sheets off the bed. She pulled my shirt over my head, with a little help from me sitting up, then ripped my shorts and boxers off my legs, me lifting my hips to help. Courtney then got up on her knees, pulled her panties to her knees, then possibly on purpose, fell forward across my body, her head holding her up on one side of my body while she lifted herself onto her feet on the other end of my body and pulled her panties down to her feet. She then maneuvered herself into a sitting position again where she pulled her panties off her feet. She then moved to straddle me and lowered herself until she was sitting on me, her hot hairy pussy resting along the shaft of my hard dick, as she tried to unhook her bra. While not even inside her, the feeling of the heat of her cunt pressed against my dick set me off moaning, and I felt myself getting closer to orgasm as she shifted around trying to get her bra unhooked.
Luckily, in her drunkenness, Courtney had trouble with it. After a minute or so of frustration, Courtney twisted around, straddling my chest and facing my feet. She turned her head to look at me over her shoulder and said, “Take off my bra, I can't get it.”
I smiled up at her and brought my hands up to the clasp of her bra. I had never unhooked a bra but I figured it couldn't be that hard. Courtney, or course, didn't make it easy, as she reached down and began to stroke my dick again as I tried to take off her bra. I started moaning as I found the clasp. I had trouble at first, but I put all my focus on the clasp, trying futilely to ignore the feelings on my dick. I finally got it unclasped, but the second I got it, my focus on it broke and returned to my dick. In mere seconds I sucked in breath as I felt the now familiar feeling of shooting my load.
Courtney announced, “Oh,” as I felt my spurts go off, taking her by surprise. But she didn't stop jerking me off until the last of my cum was out.
As I finished cumming, I suddenly felt embarrassed at doing it so soon, worried that Courtney would leave now. I opened my eyes. I saw the back of her head. It looked like she was licking the hand she was jerking me off with in front of her, but I wasn't sure, maybe she was just looking at it or something.
Courtney soon put her hand down and turned her head back to me over her shoulder. With a slight smile, she asked, “You've got more for me, right?”
I couldn't help but stare at Courtney's face, as there was a small dribble of cum on her cheek that was turned towards me. I must have shot my load hard enough to have hit her face. While staring at the cum slowly dripping down her cheek I mumbled, “Yeah, definitely.”
Courtney smiled bigger in response. She also must have seen me staring at the cum on her face, or maybe just felt it on her face, as shortly after my response she ran a finger along her cheek, catching the cum, then wiped it on her tongue and swallowed. I dumbly muttered, “Woah,” in response.
Courtney made a big grin back at me, quickly saying, “Let's put that mouth to better use!”
With that, Courtney lifted up and backed up until her hairy pussy was over my face, and then lowered it onto my mouth.
I had heard about eating a girl out, but I had obviously never done it before, and did not know what to do. I obviously knew that Courtney wanted me to do it though.
I stuck my tongue out into the bush above me. I felt the hairs on my tongue, and could just barely feel her slit up in there somewhere with the tip. I tried to do this for a little while before Courtney lifted her hips off of me.
I couldn't see her face, just her pussy and ass above me. “Is this the first time you've done this?”
I felt myself flush in embarrassment as I knew she would only ask that if I was doing something wrong. I mumbled out, “Yeah.”
Still not able to see Courtney's face, I heard her respond, “That's okay.” Then I was shocked as Courtney's hips shifted back a little and I saw both of her hands come down and pull her hairy pussy lips apart, seeing for the first time her pink insides (though I could barely see the pink in the dark).
I just stared in awe for a bit, before Courtney shook me out of it moments later, saying, “Hold it like this.” I reached up and placed my fingers almost exactly where hers were as she pulled hers away. I could feel the warmth in my fingers. I then watched as Courtney leaned forward a little more, leaning on one arm, while her other hand pointed to a little fold between her lips. “Lick me here,” she announced, rubbing the fold a bit. Then she moved her finger down to her hole, and I watched as she slipped it inside of her. “Do a good job and I'll put your penis here!”
I felt my mouth go dry and my dick perk up as I watched her finger slip in and out of her hole a few times. I mouthed out a dry, “Okay.” Almost the second the word came out, Courtney's finger disappeared as she pushed her hips down onto my mouth, lined up perfectly with the fold she wanted me to lick. I eagerly began tonguing the fold, the first flick eliciting a jerk of her hips, which I took as a good sign.
Not long after I started, I felt Courtney licking my lower stomach, then some tugging on my pubic hair. It took me a few moments, but I realized that she was licking the leftover cum off my stomach and sucking it out of my pubic hair. That realization brought a new and fierce energy to my tongue and I felt my dick jerk up, bumping into Courtney's face.
Courtney soon began shifting her hips left and right a bit on my face as she began licking the cum off my shaft. My tongue continued running over her fold in rapid strokes. Just a little later, Courtney began moving her hips up and down on my face. I tried to move my head up and down with her, but I couldn't get the timing right.
I didn't have to worry for long though as Courtney suddenly moved, quickly shifting down my body, lining my dick up with her cunt, and dropping onto it, taking the whole length in one stroke.
Unlike the first time this happened, I immediately felt the hotness of her cunt around my dick. I started moaning lightly as Courtney quickly began rising up and down on me.
At first, I kept my eyes closed, enjoying the sensations I barely got to enjoy the first time I had sex, nearly three years ago. But soon Courtney started letting out repeated high pitched squeals, similar to the ones she had made nearly three years earlier. When she did this, I opened my eyes. I watched as Courtney, facing away from me, raised and lowered her hips on my dick. I was entranced by her bouncing ass.
It wasn't long before Courtney sped up, her ass bouncing even more. Her high, quiet gasps increased with her speed until she suddenly let out what sounded like a short, high screech and she slammed her hips hard onto my dick. She froze, obviously in pleasure.
For awhile I didn't move, not wanting to interrupt the orgasm Courtney had reached. However, eventually, my dick took control of my mind, not able to stay still inside her any longer. I pushed down against the bed with my hips, then pushed up into Courtney. I heard her suck in a breath. I thrust in and out again, and she did it again. It sounded like she liked it, so I kept going. Courtney no longer moved, sitting on me facing my feet and leaning forward, her outstretched arms on either side of my legs.
I kept thrusting for several minutes, and Courtney's gasps kept coming, occasionally broken up with one of her high squeals. As I started to feel the end coming on, I sped up, and Courtney's gasps sped up likewise. Soon I was thrusting into her like a wild man, trying with all my heart to get off. When I finally thrust my hips up, cumming deep into Courtney, she made the short high screech she had made earlier again. My hips twitched, pushing harder and deeper into Courtney with each spurt.
When my hips finally lowered, Courtney laid back onto me. Or perhaps it would've better been worded that she fell back onto me. Her head dropped onto the pillow over my shoulder as my dick slid out of her body. I couldn't imagine it was comfortable for her, so I tried to slide out to the side from underneath her.
When I finally got out, I looked over to see Courtney's face. Her eyes were closed, her head on the pillow facing the ceiling. I smiled at first, but then, as I watched, a tear ran down from her closed eye towards her ear. I suddenly realized how sad she looked.
“Are you o-?”
That was all I got out before Courtney rolled over facing away from me. She twisted around a bit until she apparently found a comfortable position.
A few seconds after she stopped moving, she drunkenly whispered out, “Can I stay here tonight?”
As if she needed permission! I leaned a little forward, placing my hand on her shoulder, and said, “Of course you can.”
After a short delay, Courtney muttered, “Thank you,” though through her sleepy drunkenness it sounded more like, “tang goo.” Shortly after saying that, Courtney grabbed my hand that was on her shoulder and pulled it down and hugged it against her chest. Then she wiggled her body back until her butt was pressed against my crotch, her back against my chest, and my face in her hair.
It seemed less than a minute later that I could hear her breathing in her sleep. I smiled against the back of her head, enjoying the feeling of spooning her more than the sex before it. It was what I had dreamed of. I simply stayed in that position, feeling truly happy for the first time in nearly three years.
Several minutes later, I fell asleep.
When I woke up, she was gone.
I didn't know what to make of it. I waited at home all the next day for her to call. I thought we had connected. I thought something was going to come of all this.
But I was wrong.
She never called. And when she didn't call, I was again too scared to call her. On Monday, for the first time in years, I went out of my way to look for Courtney in school. Not necessarily to talk to her, but just to see if she was okay. I found her in the hallway after third period, chatting and laughing with her friends. When she saw me, she seemed to turn more towards her friends and away from me. It was essentially how she always acted around me in school – she simply ignored my presence, though with a slight purposeful intentional avoidance added.
I went on for a couple weeks trying to figure that night out. I pulled farther away from my friends, spending all my spare time playing soccer, doing schoolwork, or thinking about that night.
But I never figured it out. After about a month, I started to force the image out of my mind, trying to convince myself it never happened and to move on from her, that nothing would ever happen with her, and that I should try getting together with my friends and other girls.
I made that decision after school on a Friday. That Saturday night I was woken up just before two in the morning to a tapping on my window. My window was shut and locked that night. I got up and pulled aside the curtain to see Courtney. She was shivering, in a short, black skirt and a tank top, one black bra strap hanging down her arm, the heels she had been wearing in her hands, leaving her on her toes, barefoot.
I opened the window completely, and before I could say anything, Courtney dropped her shoes in my room and climbed through. While she was climbing in, giving me a shot of her black panties with one leg in the room and one leg out, she muttered out, “You should always leave your window open a crack.”
Not knowing what else to do, I responded, “Okay.”
After that, she said nothing. I simply watched as she finished climbing in, closed the window, stripped her clothes off and laid down, face up and spread eagle on my bed. For awhile, I stood beside my bed, not sure what to do.
I don't know how long I stood there. I came back when I realized my hand was rubbing my hard-on through my bulging boxers and shorts. When I realized this, I jerked my hand away, ashamed. Here was Courtney, the girl of my dreams, despite my recent goal to get over her, apparently passed out drunk on my bed and I was nearly whacking off standing over her.
I took a deep breath, willing my dick to go down (though to no avail). I then reached down to the bed and gently lifted one of Courtney's legs, trying to pull my sheets out from under her so that I could place them over her. However, as I started to pull the sheet over her leg, Courtney kicked down, quietly moaning out, “No.”
Reaching for the sheets again, I whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, “But you'll be cold.”
Courtney kicked the sheets away from me again, saying nothing at first. Then as her legs settled down, her head still sideways on the pillow with her eyes closed, whispered in a near begging voice, “Make love to me.”
I felt my shorts push out further. The use of the phrase 'make love to me' instead of 'fuck me' got me harder. They were words I'd dreamed of hearing.
But not when she was drunk. Not when she was probably not going to remember it the next morning. I had already been through a similar experience with her and didn't want to repeat it unless something was going to come of it.
I got on my knees by the side of my bed, looking at her face, despite her eyes closed, on my pillow. Using all of my willpower, I closed my eyes responding, “Not like this.”
I opened my eyes, to see her mouth out the word, “Please,” barely audibly.
Still sticking to my gut, I responded, “You don't want it like this.”
Then, as I watched, a tear dripped down her cheek from her closed eye. She opened her mouth, but her lip quivered and she shut her mouth again, biting it. A few seconds later, she sputtered out, in a near crying voice, “Please make love to me.”
I suddenly felt a tear drip down my own cheek, and also felt my defense completely crack. I reached out wiping away the tear streak on Courtney's face and simply responded, “Okay.” In response, I saw Courtney smile. It was a sad smile, but happier than how she had looked when I had refused her.
But the smile was too sad for me to look at. I stood up and pulled my shirt over my head and pushed my shorts and boxers to my feet. Feeling simultaneously turned on and guilty, as if I was taking advantage of her, I climbed between Courtney's spread legs, lowering myself slowly over her and aiming my rock hard dick at her hairy cunt. When I got near enough, I ran my pointer finger through her hair, finding her hole, then pushed my dick along my finger and into her. As I slowly pushed inside her, Courtney let out a very quiet gasp.
I started with slow pumps into Courtney, bottoming out in her with every stroke. After the initial gasp though, Courtney made no sounds. I started to think she had passed out, and felt even more guilty, but had to finish what I started, so I sped up a bit to get it done quicker. But as I sped up, Courtney starting letting out low, quiet moans, very different sounds from her louder, more vocal screams and moans from the month before.
Encouraged by her reaction, I sped up more, pushing deeper and harder into her, feeling my dick head press against her inner walls. I continued to thrust into her, speeding up for short periods of time. Slowly, Courtney's low moans turned into short gasps, then quicker, repeated gasps.
Shortly after she got into these very fast gasps, I sped up again. The gasps stopped for a few seconds when I did, but I didn't slow down. Then, without warning I felt Courtney's back arch underneath me. I watched as her head rolled from one side to the other as she kept her eyes closed and bit her lower lip as high pitched squeals escaped between her teeth and her lip.
A combination of Courtney's cunt muscles tightening around me in her orgasm added to the simple realization that I had brought her to an orgasm, brought me over the edge. I gave one final thrust deep and hard into her, cumming stronger than I ever had before. At the deepest point I could get into her, I continued shooting off spurt after spurt. It was the longest and most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. Courtney's back actually lowered before I finished shooting into her.
After my final spurt, I collapsed onto Courtney, my head falling over her shoulder that she wasn't facing. I laid there for a couple minutes to catch my breath as my racing heart slowed. Then I inched my way down her body, and off to the side. My nearly-limp dick slipped out of her, and I rested my head on her chest, using a boob as a pillow.
When I stopped moving, I felt Courtney's hand run through my short hair a few times, as she whispered from above me, “Thank you.”
I simply smiled, feeling completely satisfied. I was asleep in seconds.
I woke up to Courtney lightly pushing me off of her. I rolled off to her side as she sat up on the edge of the bed.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“It's okay.” My response was followed by Courtney getting up and getting dressed. I don't know what I thought when she sat up, but I didn't think she was going to leave. I sat up as I realized that she was going to leave again while it was still dark. Sounding more pleading than I meant to, I stated, “You don't have to leave.”
“Yes I do,” was the response, as Courtney finished dressing and dropped her shoes out the window.
“No you don't.” I started to get up. Courtney was already climbing out the window.
“Yes I do.” She picked up her shoes from the ground and walked off. I nearly ran to the window, but Courtney had already turned the corner of my house. She was gone. I never even saw her face as she never looked back at me from the moment I woke up.
Again, no calls. No recognition in school.
I don't know what I expected, but I did what she said and left my window open a crack every night after that. She wasn't there the next week, but was the week after that, and then nearly every week after that, sometimes both Fridays and Saturdays, and even occasionally on a school night.
Sometimes she begged me to fuck her, getting into all kinds of positions – doggy, one leg over her shoulder, both legs behind her head – she was incredibly flexible from her cheerleading. Other nights, she'd come in and want me to make love to her, leading to a much more sensual night. Many nights she ended up lightly crying, though she never told me why, and I never had the nerves to ask.
There were some things all these nights had in common. She always came in drunk, and she always left before it was light out the next morning, usually doing so without waking me up. This pattern continued through eleventh grade, the summer after, into my senior year, and even that last summer before leaving for college. During all this time, she always came and went through the window. Most impressive in retrospect is that my parents never found out. Or at least if they ever did they acted like they knew nothing.
There were a few stand out incidents during this time.
One time Courtney came in, drunk as hell, and insisted on sucking my dick. I tried to talk her out of it for a few reasons: first, I felt bad having her suck me off in the condition she was in; second, in her condition, I was scared she might accidentally bite me; and third, I thought she might take too much in, gag on it, and puke. But Courtney, as usual, got her way. She managed to suck me off until I came down her throat. Then she seemingly passed out on my hip with my dick in her mouth. I reached down to pull it out of her mouth, but she slapped my hand away. After a few attempts, I gave up. By the time I fell asleep she was snoring with my dick in her mouth.
Another time, Courtney insisted on me fucking her on the floor. She wanted to lay face down with her legs spread as I fucked her cunt from behind her. I tried to get her onto the bed, but she refused, insisting I take her on the floor. Of course, I finally did. After she passed out, I did manage to pull a blanket off the bed and over us on the floor.
Yet another time, when Courtney wanted me to fuck her doggy-style, I got a view of her red, swollen asshole. There were traces of blood and semen leaking out of it. It wasn't entirely unusual for Courtney to come over with cum leaking out of her cunt. I had come to accept that she was fucking other guys besides me. But she always insisted on fucking me. I never asked questions. However, I'd never seen her ass like it was now. As far as I knew it was the first time she had been ass-fucked. She certainly never asked me to do that. I made the mistake of asking her what happened to her ass and if she was okay. She turned around and slapped me, telling me it was none of my business and to just fuck her. God only knows why, but I did as she asked. I don't think she went to sleep that night. After I fucked her, we laid down and she thanked me, then started crying. A half hour later she wanted me to fuck her again. And I did. And then she thanked me and cried. And then she wanted to fuck. I think we fucked five or six times that night. And after each fuck she thanked me and cried.
She thanked me a lot. I never really knew why or for what exactly. There wasn't much in the way of pillow talk, but often after we had sex Courtney would simply say, “Thank you.” She always got mad if I asked why or tried to talk about anything other than our mutual sex life, so I quickly learned not to. But every now and then, in her drunken stupors, she would say things that seemed very unusual and out of place. One time, she muttered out, “You're my only friend,” before passing out. I'm not sure she was talking to me or someone else in her mind. I never asked. Other unexplained comments I heard were, “I don't know who I am,” “Why are you you?,” and “What is my life?” At one point, totally out of the blue, Courtney asked if I still had the panties she left behind after the first time we had sex in eighth grade. I told her they were in my underwear drawer at that very second. Courtney replied, “I'm glad.” By the time I asked why, she was already passed out.
My biggest mistake came a month before our senior prom. I made the mistake of asking her to it. It was during one of the times she asked me to make love to her, not to fuck her. I was on top of her in one of our more intimate fucks, and while thrusting the question just came out. I had thought about asking her to the prom, but I didn't think I'd have the courage to. Courtney threw me off of her and started screaming at me (though not loudly enough to wake my parents). “Why would you ruin that?” “You can't ask me that!” “It's not supposed to be like that!” “I can't believe you'd ask that!” She grabbed her clothes, threw them out the window, then climbed out still yelling at me. I'm assuming she got dressed out there before going home. I just laid on my bed in shock, naked and with a half-fucked hard-on. I could fuck the girl any way imaginable and she was okay with it. The second I ask her to prom she flips out. Eventually, I started lightly crying and tried to go to sleep. But I couldn't with my hard dick, and it wasn't going down. And so, while crying, I masturbated to thoughts of the girl that had just ran out on me.
For three weeks, I thought I had ruined whatever I had with Courtney forever, as she didn't come over. The week before prom, she came through my window like old times begging for me to make love to her. She acted like nothing had ever happened. Scared she'd leave again if I didn't, I also acted like nothing had happened and just made love to her. A week later, I went stag to the prom. I can't imagine any girl would've wanted to go with me the way I was in school, but I didn't bother to ask any so I'll never know. I only had eyes for Courtney, sad as that was. I saw Courtney at the prom, with an overweight ex-football player who had graduated from our school two years earlier. She didn't even look at me. I sat at a table by myself for the time I was there. My old friends didn't want me bringing their evening down, and I felt I had no right to complain, given how I had treated them. I left the prom a couple hours early, finding no reason to punish myself by staying there, and drove home. At home, I realized how pathetic my life was and cried myself to sleep. I was awoken later by Courtney opening the window. For her it was a “fuck me” night, not a “make love to me” night. She kicked off her shoes and pulled her dress over her head, revealing that she wasn't wearing any underwear of any kind, and laid on my bed stretching her legs out in a split to each side, begging me to get in her. I couldn't help but notice the cum leaking out of her already. I tried not to think of who that came from and just ignore it, guiding my dick to her entrance. Despite realizing how sad my life was, I couldn't stop fucking Courtney.
As these sessions continued over junior and senior year, I pulled farther and farther away from my friends, losing myself in my fantasy life that I led one or two nights a week. In my spare time I did my schoolwork and practiced soccer. I continued playing soccer, but my teammates grew to dislike me, both because I wouldn't hang out with them and because, since I spent more time practicing than any of them, I had become the best player on the team. Looking back, my stand-off-ish-ness with them probably came across as me thinking I was better than them, which was far from the truth. As a matter of fact, I thought I was just about the most pathetic person alive. However, I was good enough at soccer and school to get into a very good college in a neighboring state with a near full scholarship between my academic record and my soccer skills.
In the meantime, as I withdrew socially and focused on academics and athletics, Courtney did the opposite. Even towards the middle of junior year, she was expected to be the head cheerleader her senior year. But I guess she started partying more, even on weeknights, and she started doing drugs. It started with weed, which I could smell sometimes when she came over, but rumor around the school was that she was doing harder stuff do, hanging out with guys who had graduated high school and didn't go to college and some that just dropped out of college. Her few school friends pulled away, and her cheerleading fell apart, both from losing her athleticism from drugs and alcohol, and because her beautiful body began to fade, thinning out not necessarily to the point of being disgusting, but not far off. The beautiful hips she had since eighth grade were nearly gone by the end of senior year.
I was probably witness to these changes more than most, given how often I saw her naked. But it was understood that we didn't talk about such things, especially after the prom incident. We didn't talk about school. We didn't talk about athletics. We didn't talk about life beyond our short meetings in my bedroom. We didn't even say anything the last time she came over before I left for college. I just left.
At lunch, I tried to focus on eating. The school lunches weren't great, but they sufficed. Unfortunately, as I sat in the faculty room eating mine, it wasn't enough to distract my mind from what I had gone through in the morning, and what I had yet to go through that afternoon.
On the plus side, Meghan wasn't on my mind, so I didn't feel bad about envisioning one of my students naked, as I had most of the morning. On the down side, memories of my pathetic high school life flashed through my mind at a rapid rate and I was powerless to stop it. I literally had not thought of my high school life in years. Yet now, it was like I was right there, powerless to say no as Courtney begged me to fuck her, as I focused entirely on her, throwing away all of my friends I had grown up with and any potential for a real girlfriend, instead focusing on a person who screwed me some nights and wouldn't acknowledge me outside of that. I had spent years getting over that. Forgetting about that. Moving on from that. And now, here I was, trapped in my mind as that helpless high school kid sacrificing my life and sanity to be Courtney's fuck toy.
I must have looked sick. Several of my co-workers asked me if I was okay. I simply told them I didn't feel good, that I just needed to get through the day. I don't know if they all bought it, but they left me alone, letting my mind wallow into the pathetic agony I lived through in my high school years.
I didn't even notice when the other teachers got up at the end of our lunch period. One of them had to call my name to pull me out of the hell my mind was in. She suggested I go home. I sincerely thought about it, but I knew that if I didn't deal with this parent meeting after school, these horrible thoughts and visions wouldn't go away. Once I had the meeting, I was sure they would be gone, that I would be able to think again.
So I told her I would be fine and left to go get my class.
Leaving for college was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to me.
Without Courtney coming to fuck me every week, and not seeing her ignoring me in passing in school, I moved on. Quicker than I ever expected. I fit right in with my soccer teammates. Within a week I was closer friends with them than I was with any of my friends from high school. I started going to parties on a weekly basis (couldn't really do more than that and still play soccer reasonably well), which meant that after a month I had been to more parties than I had been to in all of my high school career.
At probably half of these parties, I'd end up hooking up with a girl. After my first one, I realized two things I hadn't really put together before. First, it was my first experience with a girl other than Courtney. Somehow, through all the sex I had my junior and senior years, perhaps lost in my depressed obsession with the girl, it never really hit me that I'd only been with one girl. Second, that first girl I drunkenly hooked up with was the first girl I had kissed since Courtney kissed me in first grade. Can't even remember the name of the girl. Courtney and I, through all of our sex, never kissed. Not once. I'm not sure how I had missed that before. I remember having tried to, and her turning away. I guess I must have thought we had at some point, perhaps convinced myself we had for the sake of my sanity. But the second I really kissed a girl, I knew Courtney and I never had never done that in real life.
Courtney didn't just disappear from my life though. Midway through October, I came home for the first time for a weekend. Both on Friday and Saturday night, Courtney came through my window looking for sex. I was both surprised and not surprised. I asked the first night how she knew I was home, and she said that she saw my car in the driveway. It was then that I realized that I had no idea what Courtney was doing with her life – whether she was in college, got a job, whatever. I had no idea. And I didn't ask, as we never talked about that stuff before, why start then? Especially when I was less interested than ever in it. My best guess was that she must still be living down the street with her mom if she was able to notice my car in the driveway – it's not like we lived on a busy street that she would see on a regular basis otherwise. Whatever the reason, I didn't focus on it. Instead, I took it merely as an opportunity for sex, and fucked Courtney both nights for all she was worth.
And so the pattern continued. I would usually come home from college one weekend a month, and Courtney never failed to come over each night I was home. Things were slightly different from high school though. I was no longer obsessed with the girl – I just liked the sex. I treated her like an ex who I could hook up with when I went home, much like many other guys had. In fact, from my stories about her I told my soccer friends they called her my home-base-ass. After that first weekend home, I told them how she'd crawl through my window at night looking to fuck. After that, every time I'd come back from going home they would always ask about her as soon as they saw me, and I would always share.
My attitude changed how our sex sessions went too. I hate to describe our high school sex as intimate, as it really wasn't, but the hook-ups while I was in college were even less intimate. It was straight sex. In high school, Courtney always asked for the sex. I didn't even wait for that now. When I heard her coming through my window, I stripped and started screwing her nearly the second she got in. I also sort of took charge of what position we fucked in. Sometimes I didn't care and just let Courtney decide how she wanted it, but more often than not I would be in the mood to take her from behind, or want a blowjob, or even a tittyfuck (which I never got in high school), and I'd always get it. The sex sessions really were just sex now. I had no emotions towards them whatsoever – it was just getting off. It used to be in high school that I tried to wake up and watch her leave in the early morning. In college, if I did wake up I ignored her and tried to go back to sleep. More often than not I didn't wake up, and she was gone by the time I did.
The break between semesters was slightly different. During my month-long break, Courtney was over every single night. At first I didn't mind. Well, maybe that's not the right wording – I never minded, I loved the sex. After a week or so though, I noticed that something must be up. She never came to see me that regularly before. It was always once a week, maybe twice if I was lucky. Maybe twice in our two year history had she been over three times in a week. And now she was coming over every night. While we still didn't talk about anything other than sex, I started to think maybe she actually liked me now, the way I used to like her. But the lack of actual talk, and the fact that she was gone every morning, led me to believe otherwise. And it didn't hurt that she was also less attractive than ever. She continued getting skinnier, as she had done through the end of high school, and it was really starting to show. Her once shapely hips were now thin and slightly bony. Her once soft and sexy stomach was now slightly concave when she laid down. And there was the slightest sag to her ample chest that had never been there before. Her face, while still attractive, wasn't nearly as beautiful as it once was, thinned out a bit more than looked natural.
Yet despite all of this, after a week together, I felt old feelings resurfacing. I stopped dictating our sex sessions and we went back to whatever she wanted. I would cuddle with her after the sex, which I had not done since the last time she came over before I left for college. A few times, I almost asked her what she was up to, what she was doing with her life, but it never came out. And she still was gone every morning. But she continued to show up every single night while I was home.
By the end of the break, I was feeling depressed again. Not nearly as bad as I had been in high school, but I felt those old feelings coming back quickly. I had no friends I hung out with from home, I had driven them all away in high school. A couple times some friends from college came over to visit, but they never stayed the night. I never went to go visit them. So my break consisted almost entirely of the job I'd gotten, sitting around at home, and fucking Courtney at night. And yet, for whatever strange reason, I felt sad when it came time to go back.
That sadness didn't last. The second I was back at college it was like I never left. I was happy, talking with friends, bullshitting essays, cheating on homeworks, partying with my soccer friends, and all that other good college stuff. I forgot about Courtney completely. Yet when I came back home for a weekend in February and March, she still came over each night. But I forgot the brief emotion I had towards her over the break. It was back to picking a way to fuck, fucking, and sleeping until, preferably through, her leaving.
And then I came back in April, and she didn't come over. Or in May, when I came back for the summer. She didn't come over once that entire summer. She had simply disappeared. I barely noticed though. And for the first time in a long while, I was happy at home. I got a summer job, and even reconnected with a few of my old junior high/early high school friends who had practically forgotten about me. They said I seemed like a new man to them, and I went out to parties with them and reminisced about back when we had been friends, not talking about the end of high school when I acted like a depressed asshole.
And before I knew it, I was back at college.
My sophomore year of college was similar to my first year, only now some of my friends I reconnected with over the summer dropped by to visit. I played more soccer, went to more parties, hooked up with more girls, and just generally enjoyed life. At the end of the year, a couple friends and I got an apartment near our college and we spent our summers there, getting menial jobs to pay for it.
Junior year, I met Jess. She was the first girl I actually had any interest in dating, plus the hooking up with a variety of chicks was getting old to me. It was something I had done now, and was ready to move on from. And so Jess and I dated. My first real girlfriend, if you will. We went to movies, went hiking, went mini-golfing, all kinds of things. We had a great sex life that was infused with actual mutual emotions for each other which I had never experienced during sex before. It was incredible. I quickly fell in love with the girl. By the end of the year, she had moved into our apartment, living in my room, in my bed.
I stayed with Jess throughout that summer, and through our senior year. We both put aside time to study and progressed well in our degrees, Jess working towards an English degree and myself towards an accounting degree. The fall semester of my senior year I had an internship at a local bank, and kept up a part-time job there in the spring. They promised me a full-time salary position once I officially graduated. Jess didn't work her senior year, spending more time with the papers she had to write.
As we progressed towards the end of the year, Jess and I made plans for after we graduated. We found a local apartment for just the two of us. I obviously had a job lined up already, Jess looked around at a variety of possible openings (I still do not know what jobs you use an English degree for).
The day of our graduation, both of our families went out to dinner. Soon after we all ordered, Jess's dad asked me when I was going to marry his daughter. I had actually bought a ring already and had planned to propose to her on a weekend cruise we had booked in a couple weeks. However, I had always been carrying the ring around with me, as I didn't want Jess to happen to find it, and it just seemed like the right time, so after he asked me, rather than answering, I got down on one knee and asked Jess. Obviously taken by surprise, she burst into tears and threw her arms around me.
That was probably the best moment of my life.
My dread faded as I walked my class back from the cafeteria to my classroom.
I was putting the rest of the day together in my head. I had recess, art, and the other fifth grade class for science (the two fifth grade classes in the school switch teachers for one period so that I can teach science for both classes and the other teacher can teach social studies for both). What this all meant is that I only had Megan in my class for a little over an hour for the entire afternoon, which wasn't all that much. That realization even brought a smile to my face.
My new attitude must have had an effect on my demeanor in class. I happily taught my remaining lessons and even joked around with my students as I walked them to and from both recess and art. I still avoided looking at Megan, but I did manage to call on her a few times, always strategically while looking at the board. I was surprised that just saying her name didn't bring out horrible images in my mind. Somehow, my mind stayed clear, but I didn't trust it enough to look at her.
I had almost forgotten about the meeting coming up after the school day was over. Even when we got to the end of day activities, I still maintained my positive attitude, joking around with the kids as they cleaned their desks and got their jackets in preparation for dismissal.
The bank gave me a salary job as promised. Jess found a job at some “social issues initiatives” office, getting a higher salary and better benefits than I had.
And life was great.
Both of us worked through the weeks, coming home to our relatively small apartment, but more than big enough for our tastes. We had very few major expenses, so most of our money we saved and spent on small weekend vacations every month – going camping a few hours away, spending a weekend at a small resort by a lake, we even went to Hawaii for a weekend (though we decided upon return that we wanted to go back for a longer stay at some point). We both started planning out a wedding for the next summer, though Jess did most of that.
Our sex life flourished during this time. Jess was naked and on me within seconds of getting home every single day (I got home first and usually had to wait thirty to forty-five minutes for her). We must have fucked on every square inch of our apartment. And it was incredible sex. Both of us always put everything we had into it, leading to lots of positions, forceful thrusting, loud moaning and grunting, heavy sweating, and a strong smell of sex when we were done. We had air fresheners plugged in all over the apartment, and even had some spray fresheners also, just in case someone was coming over and the plug-ins weren't working fast enough.
I could not think of nor imagine anyone being happier than we were at that point in time.
Then came Thanksgiving of that year.
The prior year, before we were engaged, we had gone to Jess's parents' place for Thanksgiving. So this year, it was my parents. Jess drove us down (she really liked to drive) on Wednesday night. We planned to stay there from Wednesday night until late Friday. When we got there Wednesday night, my parents made a big deal out of it since we hadn't been there together since March and broke out some champagne. The next day, Thanksgiving itself went fine. It was the next day, Black Friday that didn't.
My parents, as per their usual tradition, left at five in the morning. They didn't usually worry too much about getting Christmas presents, but they bought stuff for around the house that day as everything is so much cheaper. I remember one time when I was younger, probably around ten years old, my parents left before I woke up, and came back in the early evening with amongst other things, new silverware, a completely new set of kitchen dishes, a television stand, a new television, and an hour after they got home, a new couch was delivered. It was ridiculous. They always pushed off any major purchases until that day.
Jess made plans to do some shopping too. She wanted to leave at six in the morning for some deal she had found somewhere. I offered to go with her, but she told me I was not allowed to – which I interpreted to mean that she was buying something for me. So I didn't argue.
I woke up the first time that morning to the sound of the door closing as my parents left. I rolled over in the bed I had grown up in to see Jess awake and staring at me. She leaned in and kissed me. While kissing me, she slid her hand down my boxers. My morning wood was strong and firm, and less than a minute later I had to break up the kiss to let out a moan. Immediately, Jess pulled her hand out of my boxers.
Into my ear, she whispered, “That'll have to wait til I get back.”
I put up some light protests, not wanting to be left in that condition, but I knew two things. One, it was futile to try and delay Jess when she wanted to go shopping. Two, she always more than made up for it after leaving me high and dry like that. So I smiled while I protested, watching as Jess took off her t-shirt and panties – the only articles of clothing she had slept in, then walked out of my bedroom towards the bathroom for a shower.
I was asleep again in minutes. I woke up enough to hear the front door close as Jess left, but didn't even open my eyes and was back to sleep in seconds.
A little later, I woke up to a loud knocking on the front door. My first thought was that I must've slept for a few hours and that Jess had accidentally locked herself out (accidentally because my parents didn't normally lock the front door). But when I looked at my clock, it was only 6:43. It had not even been forty-five minutes since she had left – there was no way she could be back already. I figured she must've realized she had forgotten something and come back, but accidentally locked herself out. It obviously wasn't my parents, as they had a key, and I couldn't imagine it was anyone else showing up at the door of my parents' house before seven in the morning. So I got out of bed in just my boxers, not bothering to put anything else on, and went to answer the door.
As I was opening the door, I said, “So what'd you forget–”
I barely got the 't' out before I cut myself off. Standing there in the doorway of my parents' house was Courtney. Not only Courtney, but Courtney wearing a dress. Not a formal dress, but a casual sky blue dress that dropped just below her knees, with a matching button up sweater and matching semi-dressed up shoes. If I was to guess, I'd say it was something a girl would go to church in, but I'd never gone to church so I wouldn't really know. I had certainly never seen Courtney dressed up nice like that. Even for the prom she looked more slutty than actually dressed up.
She also looked better physically than I had ever seen her. She had obviously gained some weight – not to the point of being overweight, in fact definitely still a little on the thin side, but she was no longer too thin. The hips that she had started to show in eighth grade, but disappeared in high school, were now back in full force. Her legs, from what I could see of them, looked fantastic. Just below the cut off of her dress, were nicely rounded calves, no longer the barely more than bone and minimal muscle that she had by the end of high school. Her chest was clearly bigger and looked more healthy than it had in high school, though it was mostly hidden behind the sweater. Her shoulders, which by no means were wide, were big enough to look normal on her frame now, rather than the too-thin bony, muscle-less shoulders she had by the end of high school. And finally, her face had rounded out. Her cheeks had color, and it looked like natural color – not make-up. Her eyes, which had looked hollow and even slightly sunken the last time I'd seen her nearly four years ago, now looked normal and full of emotion. Finally, her hair I could see was down to her lower back, and obviously well-taken care of, which is far more than I could say for it when I had been with her my freshman year of college.
Basically, she looked like the hot girl she had been when she was eighth grade, only now grown into a young woman. There was no sign of the too-skinny, drug and alcohol troubled girl she had been through all of high school, at least my freshman year of college, and who knows how much longer after that.
My head jerked up from looking her over at the sound of her voice. For a few moments, I just stared at her face. Than I shook my head out of the daze I was in and muttered out a simple response of, “Hi.”
There was a long awkward silence after that. I wish I could say I was coming up with things to say to her, but I wasn't. My mind was blank, and I was in shock. I just stared at her, standing in my parents' doorway. Courtney stared back at first, but soon enough her eyes dropped, looking more towards my feet than my face. When her eyes finally came up to look at my face again, she asked, “Can I come in?”
I could think of nothing better to say than, “Yeah, sure,” stepping out of the way of the doorway as I said that.
I don't know what I expected when I let Courtney come in. Maybe to stand in the hallway, or maybe I'd bring her to the living room. Instead, Courtney walked in and kept walking. I ended up being the one following her. When she walked past the living room, I immediately realized she was heading to my bedroom.
It wasn't until that realization that I put together where this could be heading. I suddenly started coming up with excuses in my head to get her to leave. I didn't want to see her. For the first time in my life, I truly did not want to see Courtney. I just wanted her gone forever from my life. Yet I couldn't bring myself to tell her that in such a cruel way – the girl who had been my best friend in elementary school, who had been the most popular girl in my junior high, and who I had hooked up with so regularly, albeit unusually, in high school.
While thinking about this, I had slowed down and fallen behind Courtney. As I turned through the door into my bedroom, Courtney was already sitting at the end of my bed nearest the door. I stopped in the doorway, refusing to get closer to her, as if simply being any closer to her would violate my relationship with Jess. I stood and watched as Jess turned her head and looked around the room.
“Seems like it has barely changed,” Courtney muttered. I tried to force myself to come up with something to say to get her out, but forcing myself seemed to blank my mind. Courtney must have caught something in her view just behind her as her head stopped and stared. I then watched in horror as she picked up Jess's panties, which she had apparently left on the foot of the bed. She stretched the lacy Brazilian cut black panties out before her (Jess loved her lingerie – she only wore what she thought was sexy, she wouldn't be caught dead in anything she considered plain, even if it was simply for comfort). Jess's eyes cut from the panties up to me and added, “Then again, some things have changed.”
“You shouldn't be here,” I stuttered out. It was like I was in high school and intimidated by her again, though this time I definitely did not want her here, intimidated or not.
Courtney put the panties down back where she picked them up from. She looked up at me, smiling, saying, “Don't worry, I only want to talk.”
“We can talk in the living room.” I seemed to gain more confidence with this statement.
Courtney frowned. After a long pause, she looked down, and muttered out, “I'd rather talk here, if that's okay with you.”
With her the one muttering now, I suddenly felt my confidence shoot up, like I was in control of the conversation. Sounding a bit angry, I asked, “Why? What can we talk about in here that we can't talk about somewhere else?”
Courtney didn't move. At least half a minute passed before she finally responded. “It's just...” She faded off. “You see...” She faded off again. There was a long break this time. Finally, I heard her take a deep breath, though still looking down into her lap. After letting that breath out, she stated, “The last good memories I have were in this room. My only good memories from high school were in this room. I was only happy...,” she paused, frozen for a few moments, before finally finishing, “in this room.” Then she finally looked up at me, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. Through the tears, staring at me, she asked, “Can we please talk in here?”
“O–” I started, but caught myself. I felt my control of the conversation fading. My immediate response to seeing her like this was to say, 'of course,' but I thought that would sound too much like I was going to let her decide how this confrontation, however it was going to go, would play out. Hoping it would sound close enough to how I began, I said, as emotionlessly as I could, “Okay.”
Courtney smiled at me through her tears. I just kind of nodded my head back towards her, not sure what I meant by it, but it seemed like a better response than speaking.
And then I waited.
Courtney just looked at me for awhile. I didn't move, trying to keep my eyes on her while not showing any emotion, other than possibly annoyance. After a bit, Courtney wiped away her tears, and looked down at her lap again, where she had her hands clasped. She still didn't speak though. Finally, I took charge.
“What did you want to talk about?” I tried to make it sound like I had little patience. I like to think I succeeded, but I actually didn't feel impatient at all for some reason.
Courtney lifted her head up, but looked to the side instead of looking at me. “I want to apologize.” Pause. “”For how I treated you.” Pause. “In high school.” Pause. “And before, and even after... I guess.” Pause.
This was the worst apology I had ever heard. Strangely, it crossed my mind that I didn't know what she had to apologize for. That I had liked what had happened. Then I forced that thought out of my head, remembering how messed up I realized I was when I first got to college. Of course she should apologize!
It was still the worst apology ever.
Courtney finally turned her head towards me. There were tears on her cheeks again, and her eyes looked at me pleadingly, though I was confused as to why. Hoping that I'd stop her maybe? That I'd tell her there was nothing to apologize for? Part of me wanted to. I forced that part of me behind the part that remembered how messed up I was. I just stared at her.
Courtney looked at me with her pleading eyes and I looked at her as emotionlessly as I could.
And then she broke.
“I'm so sorry! I never should have done that to you! I'm a horrible person!” The words came out in gasped sobs, though she maintained eye contact with me up until this point. Then her head dropped, and she started repeating, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry....” She began shaking, rocking back and forth as she muttered apologies towards her lap.
As soon as her head dropped in sobs, my body took a quick step forward, as if I was going to go comfort her, to tell her it was okay, that she had nothing to apologize for. Again, I caught myself, stopping after a single step forward. I tried to think of something to say without sounding like I was trying to comfort her as Courtney continued rocking and apologizing through her sobs . I couldn't think of anything, but I wanted her to stop, so I said what was on my mind – “Stop.”
And she did.
Courtney stopped apologizing, stopped rocking, and looked up at me, sniffling back her last few sobs. I could see her questioning me with her eyes.
“You wanted to apologize....” Now it was my turn to pause. “And you did.” Pause. I was making this up as I went. “I accept your apology.” I had tried to say this as bluntly as I could, not thankfully, and I thought I had succeeded. Nonetheless, Courtney broke into a big grin. A grin I hadn't seen since junior high. And for a little while, I just looked at her grinning and she just looked at me. I suddenly just wanted to talk to her. About everything and about nothing. Like we used to in elementary school and even a bit of junior high. And I definitely did not want to want to talk to her.
“Was that all you wanted to talk about?” I asked as coldly as I could.
Courtney's smile faded. Her head dipped down a little, and she replied, “No.”
When she didn't start talking after several seconds, I prompted her. “What else?”
Courtney looked back up at me, not smiling, but not crying either. “Remember when we were kids? Before high school?”
I simply nodded. I didn't want to remember that. I was trying really hard to think of Courtney in a negative light. Remembering our happy friendship and fun times in elementary school was not going to help.
“Well,” Courtney began in response, “I was wondering if we could just be friends like that again.”
I immediately responded, “I don't–”
Courtney interrupted me. “I promise, I swear, I won't try to sleep with you. I'm not looking for sex. You have a beautiful girlfriend–”
I interrupted this time. “You've seen Jess?” I was shocked. I didn't know how she could've seen Jess. And somehow, what I found shocking was that she had called Jess beautiful. Don't get me wrong, I always thought Jess was beautiful. And she was. Great face, nice body. Nothing to complain about. But somehow, coming from Courtney, looking as she did right then, there was no comparison. Courtney simply out-shined her in every aspect. Courtney hands down had the better body – bigger curves, thinner though not-too-thin (Jess wasn't fat, not nearly, but she was definitely slightly above average I'd say), and her face, well, Courtney's face held an unmatchable beauty in my mind, despite Jess's good looks.
Courtney had turned away from me while these thoughts ran through my head. Luckily she started talking soon enough, cutting off my thoughts, “I saw her leave this morning.”
Again, without thinking, I responded, “You were outside waiting for her to leave?”
Courtney turned back to me and just let it all flow out. “I saw you were home yesterday. I saw your girlfriend in the living room through the window. I didn't want to cause any problems between you two, so I didn't want to come over when she was here. I came back this morning, parked across the street. I really was going to wait around all day today, tomorrow even. As long as it took to catch you alone. I was hoping to follow you somewhere and catch you out alone. I never expected both her and your parents to leave so early, that I would get the chance to talk to you here. It took me over forty minutes to build up the courage to come up and knock on your door. But I'm getting offtrack. Yes, I saw your girlfriend. She's a beautiful woman. She looks incredible. And happy. You deserve her. You look good with her. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous. I shouldn't have said that. Oh well. But I don't deserve that. Even if you had come home without a girlfriend, I wouldn't have asked for that. I really wouldn't have. I don't want to mess up your life. I don't want to cause any more problems. I did that too much, and I'm so sorry for that. I really am. All I want....”
She paused. It seemed like the first time she took a breath since she began talking. She was no longer crying. She looked neither happy nor sad. If anything she looked relieved, as if telling me all this was a big weight off of her. I don't know what I would've said to her at this point if I was thinking straight, but I wasn't so we'll never know. Rather, I just tried to process this all in my head as Courtney caught her breath. My processing was interrupted as she began to speak again.
“All I want, and I know I don't deserve this either, and I'll understand if you don't want to, but I'll hate myself if I don't ask, so, all I want is....” Courtney paused and took a deep breath, finally continuing, “All I want is to be your friend. Like we were when we were kids. I won't try to have sex with you. I won't ask for more. But you are the best guy – person – I've ever known. You're the only person who knows me, who really knows me and still likes me. Or liked me, if I already ruined it.” She paused. I don't know if she was waiting for me to respond, but I didn't nearly have enough time to process what she said before she dropped her head and continued, “I'll understand if you don't want to be friends. I probably wouldn't want to if I was you either.”
And then she stopped.
I was left to my thoughts. My head was circling. I wanted to be friends with her, like we used to. That would be great. But then what about these thoughts I was having about her? Could I just be friends with her? Could I do that, and not have it mess up my upcoming marriage? I didn't think so. But what if I could? We used to be such good friends! We were totally innocent, before it took a wrong a turn. Could we return to that? I wanted to, but what if I couldn't get over our high school years?
I honestly don't know how long I stood there. It must have been at least five or ten minutes, maybe more. Probably more, I'd say. And the whole time Courtney sat silently on my bed. I vaguely remember seeing her move, turn her head away, flatten her dress on her legs, look back up at me, straighten her sweater, look down, look at me, and so on.
I don't know if I moved. I think I just stood there, one step in from the doorway. Thinking. Or trying to think, unsuccessfully. My thoughts were in an endless loop of wanting to be friends and then not wanting to be friends, continuously justifying the arguments on both sides.
Again, I don't know how long I spent thinking. I kind of wish I did know, if only to know how long she sat there waiting. It was definitely several minutes. But it had to end.
Courtney finally stood up, looked at the ground, and choked out in a voice clearly on the verge of crying, “It's okay. I said I would understand, and I do. Or I will. I don't know.” The last few words cracked. Courtney shook her head, as if clearing her thoughts, still looking down. She then whispered, “I'll go now,” and started walking towards the door, with me in front of it.
I wanted to say something. To give her a definitive answer. To tell her, 'Yes, I would love to stay friends with you.' Or to say, 'No, I don't hate you, in fact I like you, but I just can't stay friends with you.' But I didn't. I had no idea what to say.
My head didn't even turn as Courtney walked beside me to get to the door. But she stopped right next to me. She grabbed my hand and I heard her whisper next to me, “Goodbye Johnny.” Then I felt her lips place a brief kiss on my cheek.
I turned and placed my lips against hers.
It was the first time my lips had touched Courtney's since that fateful day in first grade. After all the times she came over in high school, she turned away when I tried to kiss her and in college I never even tried, I wasn't interested in kissing her, I just wanted the sex. Maybe she wouldn't have turned away then, maybe she would have – who knows. All I knew was that we were finally experiencing our first real kiss.
And it was incredible.
As our tongues gently flicked, our hands roamed up the other's body. My hand that she had been holding I traced up over Courtney's lower arm. I placed my other hand at her other elbow just as I reached her elbow with my first hand. I then slid both hands up her arms, over her sweater to her shoulders, then around to her upper back, and slowly down and around until my hands were just above her hips on her sides. While I did this, Courtney's hands just roamed in circles on my naked back, occasionally stopping to pull my body against hers and just hold me. As she pulled me against her, I slid my hands from her sides to her back and gently pulled her against me also, then slowly traced circles on her back over her sweater.
I don't know how long we kissed. I truly don't. Losing track of time was becoming a pattern that morning. On the one hand, it felt like it passed by in mere seconds, on the other it seemed like we were simply kissing for hours, our lips always touching, never pulled apart.
For that whole time, it wasn't a sexual kiss, it was simply kissing. Kissing and holding. But of course it eventually became sexual. I don't know who started it, though I wish I did know. One moment we were continuing our kiss. The next, all I remember is that Courtney's hands were down my boxers (the only article of clothing I had on) and grabbing my ass while my hands had somehow moved to the front of her sweater and were busy undoing all of the buttons. I then pulled the sweater backwards off her shoulders. After some work, her sweater fell to the floor behind her with our lips still having never parted.
Courtney took the next move, trying to get my boxers off. Apparently my dick had hardened and popped out through the fly, so she grabbed it and, with some effort, tucked it back into my boxers. I gasped as her hand touched my dick, but I gasped straight into her mouth and was treated to her soft tongue entering my mouth as I did. I then let her tongue explore my mouth as she pulled the waistband of my boxers out and over my dick, then pulled them as far down my legs as she could without breaking off our kiss. I had to wiggle a little bit to get them to finally drop to the floor and step out of them.
With my boxers off, I immediately started pulling the straps of her dress over her shoulders. I got them about halfway down her arms before they would not go any farther as the dress was caught on her sizable chest. I had to reach up and pull the top of the dress out and over her chest. As soon as the dress cleared her breasts, I let go to continue pulling down the straps, but as it turned out there was no need. The dress had fallen to the floor the second I had let go of it, leaving Courtney in just her shoes and panties, our kiss still having not been broken.
Courtney quickly did some fussing with her feet and kicked her shoes halfway across the room while I went to work trying to pull her panties (that felt like satin panties) down. I managed to get them down to her knees, but I couldn't get them any farther without breaking the kiss. So instead of breaking the kiss, Courtney inched them down below her knees then wiggled a bit until they dropped to the floor. She quickly stepped out of them, stepped forward pushing her body against mine and pulled me towards her by wrapping her arms tightly around me. I pulled her just as tightly against me, allowing our naked bodies to press against each other as we kissed even more emphatically.
It wasn't long before Courtney, while keeping her upper body pressed against mine, pulled her hips back a bit, reached down and grabbed my dick, and tried to line it up with her cunt. Catching her intentions, I bent my knees a bit so that my dick was at a more workable angle while not pulling my mouth away from hers. I felt as Courtney got on her toes, pressed the head against her entrance, then practically dropped onto my dick. The feeling was so incredible that I thrust up into her, taking her with me. Courtney's feet left the ground as I pulled her body up in my arms. She quickly wrapped her legs around my hips trying to take as much of my dick into her as she could.
As great as Courtney felt wrapped around my body with my dick deep in her as our mouths continued attacking each other, I quickly realized that this position was not ideal for actual sex. With Courtney wrapped around me, I walked over towards my bed and just leaned forwards. Courtney and I fell, our bodies never coming apart, and bounced onto the bed. I remember a slight pain as her head bounced up off the bed into my head, which was still attached to hers at the mouth. But I ignored it and it was soon a distant memory as we continued kissing and inching up the bed until Courtney's head was on the pillow, my dick never leaving the confines of her cunt. While Courtney settled into the pillow and spread her legs, I started thrusting deep and hard into her as my hands began fondling her large tits.
The only sound for some time was the sound of skin smacking into skin as my hips repeatedly slammed into hers. Our kiss continued as Courtney ran her tongue over my lips, then sucked mine into her mouth while my dick kept up its assault on her cunt.
I again lost track of time. We just kept kissing as I kept pounding into her and playing with her chest, flicking and twisting her rock hard nipples. I know that it was a long time though. No doubt about that. I was lasting longer than I ever had before. And the strange thing was that I never felt like I was getting any closer to cumming. And possibly stranger still, I was happy with that. It was like I never wanted it to end, and my body was obeying me, not letting it end.
Not that I wasn't getting any pleasure from the experience. My mind was going crazy, my dick felt harder than it had ever felt in my life and I could feel it pulse with every thrust. Courtney was clearly getting pleasure, moaning through our kiss, occasionally letting out short high pitched squeals into my mouth, and eventually thrusting her hips back up at me.
After some time, I felt Courtney's hand slip down between us as she began violently rubbing her clit as I pounded into her. It wasn't long after she started that she hit her orgasm hard. She bit down on my lip, making high pitched squeaking sounds through her teeth and my lip. Her back arched, and her hands grabbed handfuls of bedsheets on either side of her. I felt her cunt muscles tighten as I continued pounding into her. The feeling of her body tightening around mine was incredible and I could not stop thrusting.
It actually surprised me when my first shot went off inside her. I was so lost in the pleasure that I had not realized how close I was to cumming. I thrust into her again as my next shot went off. Then again. And again. I had never cum so much or so hard in my life, and with each thrust the pleasure increased, easily to levels well beyond anything I had ever felt before. It got so incredible that I soon had to finally pull my mouth away from Courtney's, her teeth letting go of my lip. I pressed my face into the pillow next to her face and screamed, moaned and gasped as my hips kept thrusting and my balls kept sending more and more into her. Courtney turned her head and started kissing my cheek and nibbling my ear, which only added to my pleasure as my assault on her cunt continued, though she did occasionally stop to let out some, moans and gasps of her own, as well as a lot of the high pitched squeaking she often did when she was overcome by pleasure.
It felt like easily two or three minutes before I finally let off the last of my cum in her. I imagine it could not have actually been that long, I'd never cum for nearly that long at any point in my life before that, but who knows. I had never lasted that long either, maybe it was possible. On my last thrust though, every muscle in my body suddenly felt completely exhausted. I collapsed on top of Courtney, my head in the pillow next to her, my body completely still.
Courtney stopped kissing my cheek and nibbling my ear when I collapsed. I could vaguely hear her breathing heavily beside me. I could also feel her breathing heavily, as every time she inhaled, her chest pushed up and brought me with it. Then she would exhale, and her chest, and me on top of it, would lower.
And we just laid there, both of us trying to catch our breath and recover.
Yet it seemed like almost no time had passed when I suddenly felt Courtney roll us over. I had not been expecting it at all, and was looking up in shock as Courtney sat up on me, putting her hands on my chest for balance, and began bouncing on top of me.
I wondered what she was doing when I finally glanced down between our bodies to see her pussy lips, with a rather large triangle of hair above them, going up and down my very hard dick. And suddenly I felt her bounces on me. It was like I couldn't feel her, could not get the pleasure of her fucking me, until I saw her. Perhaps it was because I couldn't believe I was hard again until I saw it. I had not gotten it back up as quickly as it seemed I did now since high school. I didn't know if I ever even went limp. It seemed like I had collapsed on top of her with a hard dick only to be rolled over to see her fucking my still hard dick. But now that I knew what was going on, the pleasure was borderline overwhelming. My dick was incredibly sensitive having cum so hard so recently, and I quickly began moaning and gasping. My body wanted to shut my eyes through these moans, but I could not take my eyes off Courtney's bouncing chest. While they did have some sag to them (which was to be expected given her weight loss in high school), I was shocked at how perky they still were. I wondered for a brief moment if perhaps she had gotten implants, but I could see no scars – and I was at the perfect angle to see if there were any – and as she sped up, her breasts were moving far too fluidly to be fake. I had fucked a girl with implants in college, and her fake tits had always had slightly jerky movements, not the smooth bouncing that I was currently staring at on Courtney.
Courtney threw her head back as she sped up. It appeared she was biting her lip, but her head was turned so far up that I could barely see. I didn't spend too much time trying though, my eyes were busy roaming between her bouncing breasts and her pussy lips sliding up and down my dick. It was a constant struggle to figure out which to look at it, and it only got more challenging as she sped up, her hips appearing as a blur on my dick, and her breasts seeming even faster above me.
I soon got a strange feeling in my dick. It was like I was having a constant orgasm – like my cum wasn't cumming out in spurts, but as a continuous flow into Courtney. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. It wasn't as strong as a normal orgasm, if you will, but it was just continuous pleasure. I finally closed my eyes as I absorbed this feeling.
It was then that I heard the sound of something lightly dropping on the floor.
I jerked my head over towards the sound. Jess was standing at the door, a pink and black plastic bag on the floor beside her. It suddenly hit me what was going on. It was like I had forgotten about Jess until that exact moment. All pleasure had immediately ceased. Jess was doing something to her hand when I turned towards her, and I soon found out that she was taking off the ring I had gotten her, as she chucked it at me screaming, “You asshole!”
The ring hit my chest. The diamond must have hit me as it made a decent sized cut across my chest. I barely felt it though. Jess had turned and ran after she threw the ring. I was going to get up to go after her, but before I could, Courtney got off of me and ran after Jess screaming, “No! Wait!”
After Courtney had left the room, I was in shock for a couple of reasons.
First, because Jess, the girl I loved, probably hated me now. I had never loved someone as much as I loved Jess. Not even close. She was the one I was supposed to marry, the one I was supposed to get old and have kids with. And now that was probably gone forever. Because of Courtney. I could not believe that we had just fucked. I don't know how it had happened. It just did. She somehow made me forget about the girl I loved and probably just ruined my life once again. Who knows what she was running after Jess for. Probably to do something that would ruin my life even more.
The other reason I was in shock was because as Courtney ran out of the room, I couldn't help but think how hot her ass was as she ran after Jess, how incredible her body was, how beautiful she was, how I got the faintest glimpse of our mixed juices leaking down her thigh. All these thoughts crossed my mind in the few seconds that I saw her run from the bed out the door of my childhood bedroom after Jess, and all these thoughts made me hate myself for having them.
I was soon jerked out of my shock by the sound of the front door slamming shut. Then a few seconds later it was slammed shut again. Then I heard a car start and screech as it took off. Then that sound again.
And so I was left alone in my house. My fiancee having just left, probably forever. The girl I just cheated on her with also gone, hopefully forever. I hated her. She just ruined my life. I never wanted to see her again. And I hoped to God that there was some way I could get Jess back. But I was so distraught I couldn't even think of what to do next.
So I curled up naked into the fetal position on my bed and started crying.
I had the kids lined up at the door when the dismissal bell rang. I had maintained my positive attitude all afternoon, but the second that bell rang, fear flowed through my body. The meeting that I had been dreading all day was going to happen in mere minutes. What the hell was I going to do? What was I going to say?
I felt myself literally sweating with fear as I walked the kids out to the front of the school, where they all either got on a bus or started walking home.
All except one.
Luckily, her mom wasn't outside waiting, nor was she in the office when I had walked by with the kids. So she was late. I still had some time.
I heard the voice and forced myself to look down, dreading what I would see when I did.
I was shocked to see Meghan. Not that I hadn't been expecting Meghan, but I had expected some vision of a young Courtney naked.
But I didn't. I saw Meghan. Actually saw her, looking up at me with wide eyes and what appeared to be a slightly scared look on her face. I saw a sweet young girl of about ten and a half years old who happened to share a strong resemblance with a girl I once knew and now hated. But I didn't hate this girl that was looking up at me. She was a good girl. A smart girl. She never got in trouble, always did her homework, always participated in class.
Well, tried to participate in class. I wouldn't let her, because I had thoughts of that other girl that I couldn't handle being reminded of. And because I couldn't handle that, I ignored the girl. I made her scared to talk in my classroom. I had scared this girl that had done nothing to deserve it.
A wave of anger flushed through me at Courtney at that moment. Even now, with her gone from my life for over a decade, she was still ruining my life. I gritted my teeth in response to the anger I felt.
“I'm sorry.” Meghan suddenly turned her head away from me as she apologized.
I suddenly realized how visible my anger must have been. Meghan must've thought I was mad at her. I looked around to see the buses begin driving off and the last of the children start walking home as the other teachers started walking back into the school. I squatted down next to Meghan so that I could be at her level as I talked to her, though I was actually a bit below her face, as she was tall for a fifth grader.
“Meghan,” I said gently. She turned towards me, with a look of near shock on her face. “It wasn't you I was mad at, I was thinking of something else.” Meghan nodded at me, still with a look of shock on her face.
“Listen Meghan,” I began. I decided to be as honest as I could with her. “I'm sorry that I've ignored you a lot in the class so far this year. It's not your fault. It's mine. But I'll make you a promise – I won't ignore you anymore. How's that sound?”
It was the first time I'd really seen Meghan smile. She had had small smiles at times throughout the year, but never a genuine, happy smile. I got even more angry at Courtney for her causing me to cause problems for this young girl. This time though, I made sure to keep my anger inside me, so Meghan wouldn't see it.
“That sounds good!” She sounded so happy. Leave it to a child to be so easily forgiving.
“Alright,” I said, “How about we go back inside? Since your mom's not here yet, we can wait for her at my classroom.”
“Okay!” Meghan's reply was enthusiastic.
She was practically bouncing as we walked into the school to my classroom. Visions of Courtney running after Jess popped into my mind. Anger flowed through me as we walked. Somehow, this actually made me anticipate the meeting with Meghan's mom, rather than dread it.
When we got back to the classroom, I had Meghan wait outside for her mother, giving her a chair to sit in as she waited. I went in my classroom and straight to my desk. I put a pile of half-graded papers in front of me, so that it would look like I was doing something when Meghan brought her mom in. But I didn't grade them. I sat back in my chair and enjoyed the visions of Courtney from fifth grade through the time she ruined my relationship with Jess. And I enjoyed the anger that came with those memories, feeding on that anger.
It was a few hours later when I finally got control of myself. I had cried myself to sleep, woke up, realized everything had really happened, and started crying again. But eventually, I forced myself to think about what to do now, how to try and solve the situation.
I sat up and took a survey of my room. Jess's panties were at the foot of my bed still. Somehow Courtney and I hadn't knocked them off. There was no sign of the clothes she had worn before or the bag she had brought them in. I could only guess that she had already packed up in preparation for leaving that night and had probably already put them in the car – lucky for her, not for me, Jess was kind of obsessively organized like that. Not that I'm complaining, it made my life a lot easier when she organized everything. I also guessed that Jess left her panties as a pleasant surprise for me to wake up to. Also not unheard of for her to do. Not that I was a panty-fanatic, but she loved her lingerie and loved not only showing off for me, but leaving some around for me when she was going away for awhile to give me something to look forward to.
Over towards the door, both my boxers and Courtney's clothes were spread out on the floor, she had left behind her shoes, dress, sweater, and panties (which I noticed were in fact satin, as I had guessed when I had felt them earlier, and a sky blue satin at that to match her dress, though there was a small area over the front covered in lace that I hadn't noticed earlier). It wasn't until I saw her clothes that I put together she must have ran out to her car naked. Whatever she was running to or from must've been a pretty big deal to her to run out into the street naked in the not-too-early morning on a day when most people did get up early. On the one hand, I hoped some people were in the street to see her run out naked just to embarrass her. On the other hand, I hoped they didn't so they didn't ask my parents about it. That would suck to have to explain. Not that I could explain, I don't even know why Courtney ran off. And I refused to try and think about it because I refused to let myself think about Courtney at all.
By our clothes was the pink and black bag Jess had dropped. Curious, I got up and went over to it. Picking it up and looking in, I saw that it was lingerie. Pulling it out, I found a black sheer and lace crotchless panty with a matching bra with holes for her nipples to pop out through. Also in it was another, obviously worn set of bra and panties. She must've bought another set of sexy lingerie, I can only imagine what, and wore it home planning to surprise me with it. I hoped I would someday find out what they looked like.
I pulled her used panties up to my nose in hopes of getting a scent of Jess. But when I inhaled, I only got the strong scent of sex that had permeated the room from Courtney and my earlier activities. Disgusted, I shook the smell and image of Courtney from my head, placing both Jess's used and new lingerie back in the bag. I walked over to the bed and put her panties from the night before in the bag also. Then, looking back towards the door, I saw Courtney's clothes on the ground again. Wanting to see them no more, I grabbed them all and stuffed them into the pink and black bag, which by the time I was done was fully stretched out and overflowing with her sweater hanging out and her shoes barely jammed in (it wasn't a very big bag).
I then went to take a shower, hoping to clear my mind and figure out my next step.
I decided to give Jess a little time. I figured that there was no chance that she would listen to anything I said at that point, so it would accomplish nothing to go after her. Thus, after coming out of the shower, I got dressed, went to the living room, and put on movie after movie trying to temporarily forget what had happened while planning the next day. I would head back to our apartment the next morning. I would apologize profusely for what had happened, tell her about my history with Courtney, about how fucked up she is and how she fucked me up, and place as much blame as possible on her while still accepting the fact that it is completely my fault for letting it happen, but be able to assure Jess now, with my intense hatred for the girl, that it would never happen again.
I was still on the couch when my parents got back in the afternoon with a car full of their usual Black Friday amenities. I told them that Jess and I had a fight, that Jess had left, and I was going to leave tomorrow to clear it up. They asked what the fight was about, but I didn't tell them. They tried to comfort me, clearly seeing that I wasn't dealing with it well, but I asked them not to. I had to ask several times before they'd let it go.
The rest of the evening was pretty somber. My parents had liked Jess very much, though not as much as I did, so we didn't really talk about it much. After dinner, I went to my bedroom, packed everything I would need for the next morning, and went to sleep.
I woke up early the next morning. I took a quick shower, got dressed, and grabbed my stuff and my mom's car keys and was on the road before seven.
When I got back to my apartment, I immediately knew something was wrong, as Jess's car wasn't there. I assumed she must have gone to a friend's place.
I was wrong.
The second I walked in I could see what happened. All of her stuff was gone. After a quick run around the apartment, I found out how much was gone. All her clothes. All of her books and movies were gone. All of the various decorations she'd bought for the apartment were gone. Even a couch we had bought, but she had picked out was gone. Where there once had been a rather full shelf with books and random adornments and pictures of us, there was now an empty space. The only hint of what had been there was the shattered picture frames on the ground.
Jess was gone.
It would have been impressive how quickly she had moved out her stuff if it had not been so depressing. She didn't even leave a note. I scoured the apartment for a note, hoping to find something that said, “I just need a little time. We can talk later.”
But there was no such note. She was gone. I tried to call all her friends whose numbers I knew, but they wouldn't answer. Not a single one. I tried repeatedly for about fifteen minutes but not one ever picked up. I even tried to call some of her friends' boyfriends who I had become friends with. No answer from them either. I left several hectic apologetic messages for her on a variety of her friends' answering machines, but had no way to know whether she would ever even hear them. I left messages for every single person I called and hoped for one to call me back. Waiting for them to call, I went to my bedroom and collapsed crying on the bed, face first in the pillows.
No one ever called.
The next day, I called my parents to let them know that Jess had moved out, that she wouldn't return my calls, that I had no idea where she was, and that I didn't know how to get my mom's car back to her. They decided to drive up and come see me, then they would drive both cars back home. When they came up, they tried to comfort me, and also tried to figure out what had happened. I practically refused their comfort, and definitely refused to tell them what happened, besides that it was all my fault. After a couple hours, I asked them to leave, telling them I just wanted to be alone. They argued for a bit, but they finally did leave.
I went back to work on Monday, but I was like a zombie. I didn't joke around with my co-workers like I usually did, I just did my work wallowing in my own misery. I told a couple of them about Jess having left me, and I had to deal with people's pity all day.
As the week went on, my co-workers stopped talking to me. I just sat around by myself doing my job, then going home. After a month and no sign from Jess, I decided to get rid of anything that was left in my apartment that reminded me of her, including the lingerie she had bought that last day I had seen her. I hoped getting rid of anything that reminded me of her would help lessen my depression.
Weeks passed. I blew off going out with my college friends whenever they called. Eventually they stopped calling. Co-workers tried to get me to go out with them, but I blew them off. Eventually they stopped asking. I did my job, went home, watched TV, and then went to sleep. That was it.
I was drifting away from the rest of society. I felt like I had in high school – where there was pretty much just me in my world, and I ignored everyone else. Only this was worse, because I didn't even have Courtney coming over to fuck me every week or so.
But maybe it wasn't so bad that I didn't have that. I fucking hated her guts. If she had come over now, I probably would have beaten the shit out of her. I hated her that much. I would never be able to speak to her. She had ruined my life. God only knows what I would have done if I had seen her. My life was in shambles and it was all her fault.
It was nearly three years after Jess left that I finally did anything else with my life. A co-worker, one who I had been friends with before Jess had left but had barely talked to since then, came to wish me a happy birthday (my birthday is September 6). As per my usual tradition, I thanked him in my depressing manner, clearly not meaning it, and then ignored him, brushing him off and wanting him to leave me alone. It usually worked.
But not today.
“You know man, I'm sick of you. I've tried to be nice to you for years. Literally, it's been like three years since she left. Get over it. Go date. Move on. Just do something, anything else with your life man! I've tried to help. But I'm done. So you know what, I take that back. I don't wish you a happy birthday. I wish you shit. Up until this day, you could've considered me your friend. I don't think you could say that about anyone else in this place. Not anymore though. I'm done. Fuck you.”
And then he walked off. I just stared at the empty space he had been at. A few other people were looking over to see what was going on. I don't know where the hostility had come from. Maybe he really had been trying to help me for three years. I never even noticed. Lord knows I wouldn't have lasted three months trying to deal with someone like me, let alone three years. So I guess the hostility was justified.
The funny thing was, I was glad he did it. Somehow, that little speech had knocked some sense back into me. I realized what a pain it must have been to deal with me. In fact, I was surprised I had never gotten fired. I mean, I did my job, and I did well (seriously, what else did I have to do, so of course I did my job well, it was the only thing I did), but doing your job good can only go so far. When people don't want to talk to you, that hurts your chances of keeping a job, even if you're good at what you do.
I realized I had to do something new. I had to move on.
During my lunch break that day, I looked through the job listings in the paper. Almost immediately, one stood out at me.
Elementary school soccer coach.
I had practically forgotten I used to play soccer. I hadn't played it in years, but memories came rushing back as I read the job deion. The joy I used to get out of playing soccer. The ability to forget everything but the game. It seemed perfect. I had never worked with kids before, but I knew soccer backwards and forwards, how hard could it be? And if I wasn't any good at it, well, it was only two hours a night for six weeks. It would be over soon enough.
I ripped the ad out and called the number on it. They gave me a date and time to come and interview for the job.
It was a week and half later when I went for the interview. It was the simplest interview ever.
“Can you work with kids?”
“Do you know how to play soccer?”
I couldn't help but laugh when he said that. It felt like the first time I had laughed in ages. I had chuckled at a few funny movies I had watched, but never a true genuine laugh. Things were looking up already!
The guy interviewing me went on to explain how there were no other applicants. They used to just pick a coach from the teachers at the school, or they might have a parent volunteer do it. But they couldn't get anyone this year, so they put out an ad. I was the only one that had replied. The job started in two weeks and I was the man for the job.
Cut to five weeks later. I found myself rushing through my 'real' job, as if getting it done quicker will make 5:00 come sooner. I spent all day looking forward to coaching the kids, teaching them what I know, and winning some games. Whoever the last coach the kids had must have been pretty decent, the team is good, just short of great. I want to get them to the great level.
I'd be lying if I wasn't terrified the first couple days, but the kids were incredibly responsive to me, especially after demonstrating some of the moves I had built up over my decade-and-a-half-long soccer career. Luckily, all those moves came back just like riding a bike. I wasn't the least bit rusty. Of course, I would have been if I had to run up and down the field – I was definitely not in shape. But just demonstrating some of the different kicks and head butts was easy enough.
At the end of the season, our team had the third best record in the league (though I felt we were second best, we just had a bad day against the supposed second best team). The team held an awards ceremony, giving out trophies for MVP, Most Improved, Best Defense, etc. At the end of the ceremony, a couple of the kids actually cried about the season being over, and that they wouldn't get to see me anymore. I was totally shocked. For one of those kids though, it ended up working out, as their parents hired me to give the kid private soccer lessons for half an hour three times a week.
What shocked me more than how much the kids loved the short season though, was how much I loved it. I absolutely loved working with the kids. Talking to them, teaching them skills, joking around with them. Even talking to their parents was fun. I forgot how nice it was to be social. When I got home after the awards ceremony, I found myself distraught that it was over.
The next day I called up the college I went to to see what would be involved in going through their teacher program. I dropped off my application the following Monday. And less than two weeks after that, I was accepted into the Childhood Education graduate program for the spring semester.
For the next two and a half years, my life consisted of grad school, coaching fall soccer, helping run a couple summer soccer camps, and work. I remained unsocial at work. I hated my job at the bank. And I extended that hatred to my co-workers, unintentionally. I still did my job well though, I'm kind of an anal person like that – if I am going to do something, I will do it right. But boy did I hate it. Then when I'd get out of work, I'd be happy nonstop, whether I was taking classes, coaching, or even just doing homework. The fact that doing that homework would eventually lead me to a teaching job made me incredibly happy.
Two years after I started grad school, I quit my job at the bank as I had to student teach and I couldn't fit both in my schedule. Luckily, I had more than enough money saved up to be able to live without a job for five months.
Student teaching went great. Teaching was everything I thought it would be – enjoyable, happy, and rewarding. I felt like I was doing something meaningful and I liked doing it. And the school I student taught at liked me so much that they offered me a position as a teaching assistant in the building immediately after my student teaching ended for the month and a half left of the school year.
After the graduation ceremony, I went to dinner with my parents. Yes, I was 29 at this point, but parents seem to never get over wanting to take their kids out to dinner to celebrate a major occasion, no matter how old the kid is. At the dinner, my mom handed me an application, telling me there was an opening for a fifth grade teacher at the elementary school I went to. I told her that I wanted to stay in the area I was in, rather than move back to where I grew up, but she insisted. Being that there were no openings in my area, I had planned to sub for a year. But I filled out the application anyway after dinner and returned it to my mom, assuming nothing would ever come of it. I honestly didn't think the school would hire me fresh out of grad school with no real teaching experience.
Two weeks later, I got a call. They wanted to schedule an interview for later in the week. I thought, 'What the hell? I could probably use the experience of going through a teaching interview.' So I agreed to a time for an interview.
Walking out of the interview, I suddenly wanted the job, which made me think that I had even less of a chance of getting it. Very few teachers that were there when I had gone to school there were still there, many having recently retired. The school had a very young staff of people I didn't know and who didn't know me (I had been worried about going back and working with people I knew from my school days, but that apparently wasn't an issue). Plus, they mentioned they could use a new soccer coach for the fall, as the guy currently doing it was only doing it because no one else would, not because he wanted to. It was perfect for me.
But I drove away assuming it would never happen.
Two days later, I got the call that I got the job.
I finished the last two weeks out in my teaching assistant job, then went apartment hunting back in my home town while working at various soccer camps. I ended up finding a very decent small house for rent on the opposite end of town from my parents, which was great by me as I really did not want to live too close to where I grew up. Towards the end of the summer, I moved in. Then I started my job, turning 30 just a few days after the school year started.
And everything went great. I loved my class and I loved my job. The kids seemed to be learning a lot from me, which made me confident that I knew what I was doing, something I wasn't going into the year. I also liked my co-workers. I would go out for happy hour with them every payday. The soccer team there wasn't nearly as good as the one I had been coaching while working at the bank, but I thought I could get them up to a good level in a few years.
I met up with my parents a couple times a month, sometimes at their house, sometimes at mine. This was a nice change of pace, as I had barely talked to my parents after the Jess incident. Maybe a phone call every month or two, but that was it. I started talking to them more when I started grad school, but I didn't see them more than twice a year, if that. And since I liked my parents (I know some people don't), it was nice to get back in a constant relationship with them. I was also glad they never asked about the whole Jess situation. They had a few times in the years after it happened, and I usually hung up on them when they asked, which was probably part of the cause of us drifting apart, that and me wallowing in depression and self-pity. But apparently they had either gotten over it, or thought I still wouldn't answer and didn't want to ruin our relationship. I don't know if I would have told them the truth then or not. But they never brought it up, and I sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up, so it simply became a part of the past.
My parents did ask if I ever was going to get a girlfriend. Especially my mom, who never ceased to tell me how much she wanted grandchildren. I couldn't help but think, whenever she said that, that I probably should have had kids of my own by then. I should have been happily married to Jess, starting a family with her. A large part of me kept wishing that that had happened – that Courtney had never come back and that I stayed with Jess, got married, and had gotten to have a kid or two.
I thought about this, and it would always depress me. I didn't want another girlfriend. I didn't want to go through another girlfriend. I simply wanted to be married and have kids – skip the whole girlfriend part. I knew this was contradictory, but it was how I was thinking at the time.
So I simply wasn't interested in getting a girlfriend. If a girl had asked me out on a date, I probably would've gone, but I was not going to actively search. I was happy with where I was. I wasn't going to go out of my way for something that might in the end ruin my happiness. It probably didn't help that I still had a negative view of relationships, over seven years after Jess left me.
So I worked. For four years I worked. Teaching and coaching. And I loved my life. I had no major problems. And I was happy.
Until that year, when Meghan walked into my classroom.
It started with the visions. I couldn't look at the girl. I could barely talk to the girl. I knew I was making her school life a living hell, but there was nothing I could do about it. It just kept getting worse and worse, finally peaking with that note.
The Parent Meeting
I don't know what was keeping Meghan's mom. It had easily been five minutes since we had gotten back to my classroom, and she hadn't come still. And for whatever reason, the longer I waited, the more my anger faded. And I didn't want it to fade. The anger had brought clarity. The anger had allowed me to see Meghan, to talk to Meghan. I was counting on the anger to get me through this meeting. I didn't know what would happen if the anger faded. Would I not be able to look at Meghan again? That certainly wouldn't help me get through the meeting.
And yet my anger still faded. I was slowly realizing, against my will at this point in time, that I had no reason to be angry. I liked my life. I was happy with my life. I enjoyed where I was and wanted to be here. I had gone through hell at various times in my life. Been through several deep depressions that lasted years. And yet that was all in the past. The present was simply one little meeting that could in no way compare with the bad periods I had been through.
As my anger faded, I actually began grading the papers in front of me. Soon, I was even smiling while I graded them. My mind went through the motions of grading the papers, while not forgetting about the meeting coming up at anytime, but also not dreading it.
Finally, I heard footsteps through the door. Keeping my face as emotionless as possible, I looked in the direction of the door. I saw Meghan Arnold standing just inside the door, her hand inside that of her mother's, Courtney Arnold.
Courtney looked impressively good. She looked barely older than the last time I saw her, that fateful Black Friday when we were both twenty-three, nearly eleven years ago. Her hair was not tied up at all, letting her beautiful long hair just flow down to the middle of her back. Her face looked beautiful, or maybe it was just her expression. I mean, her facial features were still as beautiful as they always were, obviously aged incredibly well as she had no signs of wrinkles nor bags under her eyes, or anything else that showed the traditional signs of aging. But her expression showed signs of calm, happy, confidence, though I thought I could see the hints of nervousness at the corners of her mouth. Nonetheless, even with that nervousness, I had not seen what at one time was Courtney's signature calm, happy, and confident expression since eighth grade.
She was dressed in a light blue, long sleeved, loose-fitting blouse, business slacks, and business shoes with small heels. I don't know where she worked or what she did, but she obviously came straight from work. The clothes did some to conceal Courtney's body, but knowing what it used to look like, I could practically see her body through the clothes. The only major change I noted was that she looked to have rounder hips, which wasn't a bad thing, it just added to her curves. And speaking of curves, it appeared her breasts were still floating in front of her with barely a sag to them. Also, from what I could tell from her posture, the shape of her shoulders, and what I could see of her arms, she appeared to be slightly more muscular than she used to be. Not that she was by any stretch an amazon woman. Rather, it just looked like she went to the gym and took care of herself. She really must've taken good care of herself the past decade to look as good as she did, which is all the more impressive considering how little she took care of herself throughout high school and even the year after.
Yet taking all of this in didn't affect me. It didn't make me scared to deal with her, which was something I had been worrying about. But it also did not make me angry with her, which was something I had kind of been counting on. I was hoping that seeing her would bring back the rage I had felt against her for years. Instead, I viewed her merely as the mother of Meghan, a wonderful student of mine that, through unfortunate circumstances well beyond her own power, was not getting as much out of fifth grade as she could be.
This being the case, I stood up, offering a very formal, “Welcome, Ms. Arnold.”
Courtney gave a small smile, responding with, “How are you today, Mr. Taylor?”
“Not too bad,” I responded. I walked over to the table at the front of my room not far from my desk and pulled out a couple chairs for Courtney and Meghan before sitting in one myself and adding, “And yourself?”
“You know, made it through another day of work, so I can't complain.”
By this point Courtney and Meghan were sitting at the table across from me. After a very brief pause, I asked, “So what did you want to talk about today, Mrs. Arnold?”
There was a little pause before she responded. “Well... you know... how is Meghan doing in school?”
“Meghan is probably one of the best students in the class. She always does her work, and almost always gets really good grades. Let me just check my book.” I got up and took a few steps towards my desk to grab my gradebook. As I did, I said, “I know she has a little trouble in math, but besides that, I think she's doing great in everything else.” I sat back down with my gradebook and flipped it open. I flipped through it checking her grades in reading, writing, spelling, math, science, current events, and even social studies from the grade list I had gotten from my co-worker who teaches it a week earlier. “She's got at least an A- in everything except science, which is a B+ and nothing to worry about, and math which is a high C+, borderline B-.”
I looked up to see Meghan looking across the table towards my gradebook and Courtney looking at me. “Are you helping her in math?”
I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it when I realized what the question was. I don't think I'd ever been asked that question. Usually, in a similar situation, parents would ask something along the lines of 'Can you help my child in this subject?' or 'What can we do to bring that grade up?' The wording, 'are you helping her' confused me. It was almost accusatory. Courtney wasn't asking what she, myself, or Meghan could do to bring that grade up, she wanted to know what was already being done. And I knew I was doing nothing to help her, for up until about half an hour earlier, I couldn't even look at the child without seeing a naked fifth grade Courtney in her place. Other children in similar situations, I made the individual effort to go help. But I didn't with Meghan.
“Well,” I began, “Meghan's friends have been helping her with the math work.” This was true, her friends that sat next to her would help explain anything Meghan didn't get. “They sit next to her and explain to her...”
“I didn't ask what her friends are doing, I asked what you were doing to help her.”
I had been looking at Courtney the whole time, and her pleasant expression hadn't changed. She didn't look angry. But her interruption of me and the change in tone was enough to make Meghan's head jerk up at her and away from the gradebook.
Again, I didn't know how to respond. “Well,” I started again, and then after a brief pause, “I go over everything in class and try to explain everything so that all...”
“I don't want to know what you're doing with all the students, I want to know what you are doing to help Meghan alone in math. Have you dealt with her personally? Have you asked to keep her after or in from recess to try and teach her math?”
I have no idea how Courtney was managing to sound this angry while maintaining a calm, almost happy expression on her face. She wasn't yelling, or even sounding all that angry, but the meaning of her statements could not be more clear: she didn't think I was doing anything to help her daughter, which was essentially true. Even Meghan caught on to her mom's tone and was grabbing Courtney's sleeve and tugging on it, trying to get her attention, clearly uncomfortable with how her mom was acting. But Courtney didn't look down at her.
I did though. I saw Meghan, and couldn't help but feel bad for her. She was clearly being put in a tough position. I tried to think of what I could do or say to make it easier for Meghan, while not further angering Courtney.
“Well,” I started for the third time, clearly showing my nervousness about the direction the parent meeting had quickly taken and no doubt sounding like a broken record, “I actually just talked to Meghan after school today.” I saw Courtney's eyes open just the slightest bit extra in a bit of surprise. I also saw her look down at Meghan finally, who was looking up at me, smiling and nodding in recognition that I had talked to her.
I saw my opportunity and went for it. “And what did I say, Meghan?”
Meghan beamed, obviously glad to finally be brought into the conversation. She started out looking at me, stating, “You said you were going to ask me more questions in class and that you would answer any questions I had.”
She worded it better than I could have. Not exactly what I said, but close enough. And it was true. I would do all of that. I was just about to open my mouth to talk again when Meghan turned her head to her mom and continued on, “He also said that he would help me out with any problems I had. He promised he would help me. So there's no problem.”
That sly little girl! I hadn't said anything of the sort. I would, of course, do all of that, now that I was able to see her without seeing a young Courtney instead. Even if I did go back to seeing a young Courtney, I would fight through it to help this girl. But I certainly never told her all of that. All I said was that I promised not to ignore her anymore. However, Meghan saying that was an almost perfect defense for me. Courtney's prior comments, offered in not the politest of manners, were all answered by her daughter, and I was sure she wasn't going to call her daughter out on it.
Courtney turned to me, opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. She instead turned to her daughter and asked, “Can you wait outside for a little bit so Mommy and Mr. Taylor can talk alone?”
Meghan's reaction seemed strange to me. Instead of directly answering, she turned to look at me, as if to check if the request was okay by me. I don't know why she did it, but I just gave a quick nod to show it was okay by me. Meghan then stood up, along with her mother, and walked toward the door. I could just barely hear Courtney talking lightly to her daughter, but couldn't make out what she was saying. Soon enough, Courtney came back in, closing the door behind her, leaving Meghan in the hallway and unable to hear our discussion.
She returned to the table, pulling her chair directly across from me. Sitting down, leaning forward, and looking directly into my eyes, she asked, “Did you really promise her that, Johnny?”
The question was not accusatory. It sounded hopeful and genuine. I could see the hope in her eyes.
But it caught me off guard when she called me Johnny. I must've made some kind of facial response to her saying my name, because almost instantaneously, she corrected herself, “I mean, Mr. Taylor.”
I answered the question. “Not in those words, but essentially yes. And I will do all those things for her.”
Courtney continued looking at me. Now that Meghan was gone, the feel of a parent meeting was drifting away quickly, and I couldn't help but think I was sitting alone talking to Courtney again. I could feel myself losing control of the meeting, not that I had much control before as Courtney so aptly demonstrated.
After a long pause, Courtney finally leaned back in her chair. Still looking at me, Courtney said, “Meghan told me that you barely talked to her so far this year.”
It wasn't a question, it was a statement.
“Unfortunately, yeah, that's true.” I figured the truth without an explanation was the best response.
There was a brief pause, than Courtney looked up at the ceiling. “I've always encouraged Meghan to have good relationships with her teachers. She's never had any problem with it before. I can't tell you how hard I've worked with her to make her a good student. A lot of the times I found out it seemed harder for me to ask her to be a good kid than it was for her just to be a good kid. But I love her. She's all I've got. I've....” She paused before continuing. “I've fucked up a lot in my life. I know I have. But I don't want to fuck up on Meghan. She is the greatest thing that ever happened to me. She's the reason I'm still here, the reason I'm still ticking. I may not deserve any second chances, but as far as I'm concerned, Meghan deserves as many chances as she can get.”
Courtney paused again. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to respond or not. I saw a tear drop down Courtney's cheek as she continued staring at the ceiling. Yet I realized this emotional confession from Courtney was having no effect on me.
After a minute or so, Courtney continued. “I was torn last year. When I got the letter saying Meghan was in your class, I didn't know what to do. I thought about calling the school to have them switch her to the other fifth grade class. But when I told this to a friend of mine, or rather, the mom of a friend of Meghan's, she looked at me like I was crazy. I guess her older son had you as a teacher a couple years ago and she said you were the greatest teacher he ever had. I told her that I knew you in high school, and wasn't sure I wanted you to have my daughter as a teacher, not going any farther than that. She assured me that you were one of the great teachers out there, and that she was positive you wouldn't hold anything against my daughter, and that she couldn't imagine how I would explain to my daughter why I'd taken her out of the class with you once the school year started and everyone got to know you, because for at least one class a day all the fifth graders had you, and everyone seemed to end up liking you. At least according to this mom.”
Courtney paused to take a deep breath. “And so I left her in your class. I figured you wouldn't want to see me. So I skipped Parents' Night. And I skipped the first quarter parent meeting. And I never called. Meghan told me you never talked to her, but I tried to ignore it. Figured it wasn't a big deal. But as the year went on, she got more and more sad. She was never happy unless she had friends around. She started acting different around me. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and called yesterday for the meeting.”
Courtney stopped talking. It wasn't a pause, she just stopped. She continued staring at the ceiling, I didn't respond. I don't know why she shared her story. Maybe it was to let me know where she was coming from. Maybe it was to make me feel like a dick. Maybe it was just to clear the air. Whatever the reason, I just listened and felt no response of any sort to it.
After a couple minutes, Courtney leaned forward on the table again. Her eyes were slightly red, but any tearing had stopped. She looked directly at me and started talking again. “How am I supposed to know if you are going to follow through on your promise? Maybe you just said that today to get me off your back. Maybe tomorrow you'll go right back to not talking to her. Maybe...”
Now it was time for me to get defensive. Cutting her off, I leaned forward now, looking her in the eye, and said, “I meant what I said to her. I wouldn't lie to a child, I've got no reason to. I have been ignoring her all year. I know that and admit to that and regret that. But I will not for the rest of the year. I feel bad enough already for having ignored her as much as I did.”
Courtney, in a tone that was a strange cross between angry and hopeful, responded, “But how do I know that? How am I supposed to believe that?”
“There's nothing I can do that can prove to you that I will. All I can do is promise you. You know me. I don't lie. That hasn't changed. I have no reason to ignore Meghan and I will not ignore her anymore.”
Courtney was staring back at me. Her eyes were wide with hope. But she said nothing. Neither did I. I had stated what I wanted to.
After a couple minutes, Courtney dropped her head, looking straight down at the table. Her hands, that had been resting on the table dropped to her lap. In what was barely a whisper, and sounding more nervous than I had ever heard her in my life, Courtney uttered, “I need to know one thing. Why did you ignore her up until now?”
It was the question I had feared the whole time. All my anger and defensiveness disappeared. I thought I had sidestepped it. I had been preparing for it earlier in the meeting, but right now, it came as a shock to me. I couldn't help it as the true answer to that question visualized in my mind – a naked fifth grade Courtney Arnold. I dropped my head, and with my voice shaking and sounding about as weak as hers had asking the question, I responded, honestly, “That's hard to explain.”
I heard Courtney's response, sounding stronger than her question. “No it's not.”
I looked up at her, seeing her eyes boring into me. They seemed conflictingly sad and angry. Reacting to the strength in her words, I stared back into her eyes and responded strongly, “Yes it is.”
Without a second's wait, Courtney shot out, “It's because you hate me.”
Also not waiting to respond, I immediately threw back, “No that's not it.”
I had meant my comment defensively, trying to point out that she didn't know why I had trouble working with Meghan and proving her assumption wrong.
Courtney must've taken it differently. She didn't respond verbally, but her jaw dropped a little and I could see the faintest hint of her eyes beginning to water. For a second I was confused. Then, replaying the conversation in my mind, I realized that she must have taken my response to mean that I do not hate her. The fact that she would even think that I wouldn't hate her sent a new wave of anger through my body and I lashed out verbally.
“Not that I don't hate you, it's just that that's not the reason I'm having problems working with Meghan. But don't think I don't hate you. You ruined my high school life, fucking me up mentally and putting me into a deep fucking depression. Then you really ruined my life, taking advantage of how you fucked me up earlier in life to sleep with me while I was engaged and then chasing away my fiancee when she caught us! That was the worst day of my life! You took away the love of my life and made it so she would never talk to me again. Ever! Sending me into another depression wasting several more years of my life. So yeah, you fucked up my life and I do fucking hate you.”
I had maintained eye contact the whole time. I never looked away for a second. I could feel the blood pulsing through my body with anger as I laid out all the hatred I had built up towards Courtney. I took a few deep breaths to calm down a little bit.
Surprisingly, Courtney never looked away either. The look of hope was gone, but she continued looking at me while I had ripped into her. After a minute or so, Courtney began talking.
“You're right. I deserve that. But...”
That word killed me. I went on the attack before she had a chance to explain. “'But?' 'But' what? You ruined my life! There is no 'but'! Seriously. How could you possibly try to defend yourself?”
Courtney didn't wait this time. “I wasn't trying to defend myself. I just wanted to clear up one thing.”
“What?” The question was harsh and impatient, but I tried to keep it quiet so Meghan did not hear from out the door.
“I didn't chase your fiancee away.”
I started laughing. That moment had been the most painful of my life. There had never been anything funny about it. But in my sudden angry hysteria, I found the concept that Courtney thought she hadn't chased Jess away absolutely ridiculous. “So when you ran after her naked from my house, you were what, trying to have coffee with her?”
Courtney was clearly getting annoyed that she wasn't able to get the story out so she took a deep breath and raced through the explanation. “I didn't mean to have sex with you that day. I really just wanted to talk. To try and be friends, and if we weren't, I wasn't going to talk to you ever again. I know I fucked up your life. I was an ignorant self-absorbed snob in high school. But you were the only person who had ever really been my friend. I wanted to try and get that back, to try and redeem myself in your eyes. I don't know how we ended up having sex. I didn't want to or mean to. And when I saw Jess in the doorway, I realized what I had done, that I had messed up your life again. I didn't run after her to chase her away. I ran after her to try and talk to her, to explain that it was all my fault, that she shouldn't leave you, that she was incredibly lucky and that you were one of the greatest guys in the world. Unfortunately, I couldn't catch her before she got in her car, so I chased after her. I tried flashing my lights at her to get her to pull over, but she wouldn't. So I tailed her. For nearly an hour, I followed her until she finally pulled over to a rest stop on the highway. She got out of her car and ran back yelling at me to stop following her, I got out of my car and told her I'd stop following her when she'd give me a chance to explain. For a few minutes we argued back and forth before she finally gave me the chance to explain so that she could never see me again. So I told her all those things. Standing there naked in the parking lot of a highway rest stop, I told her that it was my fault, that I had taken advantage of you, that she should go back and talk to you, that she should not leave you because you are the greatest guy in the world, and that if it made her happy, I would move across the country so that neither she nor you would ever have to see me again. And then she said....” Courtney paused and grimaced here. Then she changed her story, saying, “Well, she got in her car and left.”
I was in shock. All this time, I had assumed Courtney had just been trying to fuck up my life more when she ran after Jess. I thought she was just fucked in the head and malicious. I thought she came to my house to fuck me and drive away the love of my life. Apparently, she really had just wanted to be friends, and we somehow got carried away, and she even tried to make up for it. And what I found most strange, despite how much I didn't wanted to, I found that I believed every single word she said. I honestly didn't think she would lie about that. This totally changed my view of everything that happened that day. I couldn't quite wrap my head around it. But there was one detail that she obviously left out that I needed to know.
Still in a state of shock, I asked, “What did she say before she left?”
Courtney looked at me. In her eyes, rather than sadness, or anger, or any other emotion, I saw pity. Her response was simple, “You don't want to know.”
I felt anger build up as she was leaving out the most important detail of her story: The last thing Jess said before she left. The last thing I would ever know about her saying before she disappeared from my life. I don't care if she said she fucking hated my guts and never wanted to see me again. I needed to hear it. So with obvious anger, I again asked, “What did she say?”
Courtney looked away, tearing up. “I can't tell you.”
I felt my voice grow, though I tried to keep it down still, “You have the ability to tell me the last thing Jess ever said about me, what she thought about me, the one thing I have wanted to know ever since that day, and you aren't going to tell me? That's bullshit. You can and will tell me what she said.”
Her voice shaking now, Courtney responded, “I'm honestly telling you you don't want to know.”
“I don't care if you think I don't want to know! I'm telling you I do want to know and you better...”
“She said....” The response was quick, as if she was going to let it all out in one breath, but she cut herself off.
“What?” Calming down as I asked, “She said what?”
Courtney turned to look at me, a pleading look in her eyes, trails visible on her cheeks where tears had run down. She shook her head no as if she really didn't want to say anything. I calmly nodded my head yes. And then she began.
“She said....” Pause. Deep breath. “She said that she could never be with you again. She said that it wasn't that you had cheated on her. She said that she had stood in the doorway for a few minutes. She said that in that time you looked more happy with me than you ever had with her. She said she could never see you again knowing she was not the one who made you the most happy.”
A wave of shock went through me. I had been expecting a vulgar response about how horrible a person I was, how Jess was disgusted with me and hated me more than anything else in the world – not that she thought I was happier with Jess. As I thought about this, memories flooded into my mind. Memories I had blocked out long ago and had not thought about since then. Had I initiated the sex with Courtney that day? I had blamed her for it all, but was I the one that started it? I honestly couldn't remember, but I thought that I might have, a thought that had never crossed my mind before that moment. At the worst I was a very willing participant as I could not remember the least amount of resistance from myself. Then the kiss, I kissed Courtney that day for the first time, not counting the incident in first grade. It had been incredible. Everything about that short time together was incredible, from the conversation at the beginning to the sex at the end, prior to interruption. It was one of the few moments of my life that actually felt right, much as teaching feels right now. Of course I was happiest then.
And yet I hated Courtney. Absolutely hated her. She ruined my high school life. She attempted to ruin my college life, though I made it through that, and then she ruined my one shot at true love. We may have been childhood friends at one point, but she had long since ruined that. Her sexual antics lost me tons of friends throughout my life, turned me into an anti-social introvert at times, and left me in a couple multiple-year-long depressions. How could I have been happy at all then?
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that.” I shook my mind free and jumped back into reality. I don't know what I looked like as I got lost in my thoughts, nor how long I was lost in them, but apparently it was enough to draw a comment from Courtney.
“No,” I tried to say, but it came out in a dry choke. I coughed to clear up my surprisingly tight throat. “No,” I repeated more audibly, “I needed to hear it. Unpleasant as it might be, now I know completely why she left. She never spoke to me after that day. She moved out by the time I got back to our apartment the next day. Neither her nor her friends returned my calls. This,” I took a deep breath here, “provides closure. I can officially put it in the past now. I always wondered... wondered what she thought, how she responded, why she wouldn't even talk to me about it. Now I know.”
I felt my words trail off as I finished speaking. My mind drifted back into thoughts of what happened. But instead of thinking about Courtney, I thought about Jess. Courtney's words really did end it. I didn't even think about it until I said it, but as much as I knew I had never gotten over Jess, I never really understood why. Now I did. In my mind, it never ended, as I didn't know why it had ended. Now that I knew why, now that I knew once and for all it was over and could never be again, it was like a huge weight off my shoulders.
For several minutes, I sat in that chair at the table mulling all of this over in my mind.
Eventually, Courtney spoke again. “I guess I should go now.”
I simply nodded, acknowledging her response.
And yet she didn't move. She sat there, looking at me. Or more accurately looking through me. As if she was thinking even harder than I was. I was suddenly more curious about what she was thinking than about anything she had just told me. I couldn't understand what she was thinking so much about.
Finally Courtney spoke again. “Before I go, I told myself I would tell you something today, no matter what happened in this meeting.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I told you Meghan means everything to me. And she does. So it doesn't matter who you are, how long I've known you, how much I love you, if you do anything to hurt my little girl – mentally, emotionally, physically, whatever – I will come after you. I don't care if you have tenure. I will find a way to get you fired, I will get you arrested if need be. She is all I have in my life and no one will do anything to harm her. I will not let her go through what I went through.” She appeared finished. She took another deep breath before adding, “Okay, I'll go now.”
Courtney got up and turned around before I stood up and threw out my confused response, “What did you say?”
Courtney turned around and looked at me, almost angrily. “I said that if you do anything to Meghan I will...”
“No, no, no,” I quickly replied as I interrupted her, “I understand that, you'll do anything for your kid, blah blah blah. I feel the same way about all the kids I teach and coach, I can only imagine it's ten times more so as a parent. That's fine. What did you say before that?”
By the time I finished talking, Courtney's look of near-anger had changed to a look of complete confusion, nearly matching my own look of confusion I'm sure.
“What I said before that? That it doesn't matter who....” She interrupted herself. “Wait, you're okay that I would try to get you fired or arrested despite our history together?”
I quickly replied, “Yeah, for your little girl, anything. Fine, whatever. Did you say you love me?”
Courtney didn't say anything for a little bit. We just stood there staring at each other.
Then Courtney spoke. “You must have known....” She paused and stared at me. I can only imagine the look of confusion and shock on my face. Finally, she continued, “How could you not have known?”
For a few seconds, I was frozen in place. Thoughts running through my head but nothing making sense. I answered her question with another. “How could I have known? All you've done in my life is ignore me in public and ruin anything good in it.”
Courtney, who still looked confused, choked up. “I must have told you. All those nights in high school, those nights you spent home in college, even that morning before your fiancee came home.”
I just stared at her in shock.
“I definitely said it,” she added when I didn't respond.
“No, you didn't,” I threw out defensively, finding my voice again. “Trust me, I would've remembered. I loved you in high school. Even before that. I loved you so much I threw away the rest of my life. I tried to get over you in college, but I had spent enough time loving you that I definitely would have remembered if you had said that. The same thing if you had said it that morning. I wouldn't have forgotten it. It would definitely stand out in my mind. You never, ever said it.”
It was Courtney's turn to just stare at me. After several moments, she repeated in a tone of disbelief, “How could you not have known?”
In a tone of defiance, I repeated my answer, “How could I have known? You treated me like garbage in high school – sneaking into my house and fucking me as if I was your personal sex toy, passing out drunk or high in my bed, disappearing before I would wake up. I mean what is that shit?”
Courtney's look faded through me. She started talking, but it was more like she was talking to herself. “I thought I had told you so many times. I thought you didn't feel the same. I spent so many mornings worried that I had told you, that you wouldn't like me anymore, that you wouldn't let me in anymore.”
I was getting more and more defensive. “How could you think I didn't love you? Why do you think I let you in all that time? I hoped you would one day let our relationship be more. But you never did. You always flipped out if I ever brought up dating you, like the time I asked you to the prom.”
Courtney was officially gone mentally. She was staring right through me. She didn't respond. She stood there with a blank expression on her face. I had no idea what she was thinking. But I didn't say anymore. I just stared at her as she thought.
And stared at her.
And stared at her more.
The more I looked at Courtney, the more I could see my childhood friend in her. The happy, confident, fun girl I used to spend almost every day of my life with. I don't know why I suddenly saw that in her, but I did. She no longer seemed the evil person I had so made her out to be in the last ten years of her life. Maybe in high school she made some bad decisions, was insecure and didn't know what to do. Maybe that morning I lost Jess, maybe that had been more my fault than hers. Maybe...
“Oh my god.”
Having been staring at her, I saw her mouth moving before I heard it. After saying it, she shook her head as if to get rid of her thoughts.
“I'm so sorry. I thought you knew. All this time I thought you knew.” She paused for a moment. She took a single step towards me around the table. “I know I took advantage of you in high school. But it's not like you think it was. I didn't come over for the sex. I came over because you cared about me. You were the only person that did. I had sex because I thought it was what you would want. I tried to make you happy. I didn't think you'd let me come over and just cuddle me or let me cry until I fell asleep. When you tried to talk me out of having sex with you some nights I was scared that you were doing that to get rid of me, so I couldn't accept it.
“I got in with a bad group of friends in eighth grade when I was moved up to the varsity cheerleading squad. They got me into alcohol and weed. I tried to be cool, to fit in with them. I wanted to be cool. As the years went on, I started doing harder drugs, getting more desperate. The first night I came to your house I had actually thought about killing myself. I hated my life. I hated everything in it. The drugs and alcohol were my only escape. I tried to remember the good things in my life. The last good thing I could remember, the only good thing I could remember was you. Before I even realized what I was doing, drunk as I was, I found myself climbing into your bedroom. And I felt good with you. I felt safe. But when I woke up, I was scared. Scared you wouldn't like me. Scared my friends wouldn't accept you. Scared that I would ruin it if I stayed any longer. So I left.
“As I spent more nights with you, I wanted to be your girlfriend. But my friends never would've accepted that. No, I don't know that. I should take the blame. They might've, but I was too scared to risk it. I might've lost my social group, and as I got more into it, I got worried about losing my sources for drugs. I got addicted bad. You must've known that. I think everyone could see that. At first I had sex with other guys at parties to be cool, but soon I was having sex for the drugs. It was how I paid for them. But I always hated it with the others. I only liked it with you. You were the only thing that kept me together. And I know it was wrong, but I needed you. You were the only thing that kept me from going off the deep end. It was unfair of me to get you involved in my problems, to even take out my problems on you. But you were always there for me. I couldn't stop.
“When you went to college, I cried every day. I fell apart. I checked your driveway every day for your car, hoping you'd come home. But you weren't there. I started getting heavier into the drugs. They were my escape when you weren't there. I didn't go to college. I got a crappy job as a hostess, the place wouldn't even let me be a waitress they thought I was so messed up. When you finally came home, I told myself I was going to try and talk you into staying with me, but you didn't even seem interested in me. I did everything you asked, I would've done anything at all, but you seemed like you didn't even want to see me. And yet, being with you not wanting to be with me was better than being anywhere else. I thought for awhile that you were going to like me again over that winter break. I did everything in my power to try and please you, to make you like me. And for a little bit I think you did. But then you went back to college and forgot about me again. But I couldn't pull myself away from you. I still always checked if your car was there.
“It was a few months later when my mom caught me shooting up at home. I never did drugs at home in high school, but I couldn't help it when you were gone. I had been doing it for awhile, but unfortunately it took months for me to get caught. My parents were devastated. They shipped me to a rehab center. They put me in a three-month program. But they didn't know how bad I was, how long I had been addicted. I was there for a year and two months.
“Something I picked up from rehab was exercising – going to the gym, working out, running, whatever. The exercise high kept me away from needing a drug-induced high. When I finally got out, I kept up my exercising and enrolled in a gym. I moved into my parents house again when I had gotten out, and my parents enrolled me at community college. But I quickly realized that I was not ready for the classes I was in. All my academic skills were way below high school level, thanks to my slacking through high school when I had went. So after a wasted semester where I failed every class I took, I spent a year taking high school-equivalent courses. Then I spent another two years getting an actual Associate's Degree. It was actually at the beginning of my last year of community college when I saw you last... that morning. I had wanted a job while I was going to college, but my parents wanted me to focus on just college. Living under their roof, off of their money, I went with what they wanted.
“It was the August after I got my degree that I had Meghan. For the first six months, my parents continued telling me to get a job, that they would take care of Meghan, but I refused and wouldn't budge on that decision. She was my pride and joy. She was the best thing in my life. I would be the one to take care of her. And I did. For a year I took care of Meghan off of my parents' money.
“After that first year, I finally let Meghan go into daycare and started looking for a job. But I couldn't find one. I went to some interviews but no one wanted a single mom who lived with her parents that hadn't held any kind of job in nearly five years. After a couple of months, my dad told me a friend of his was looking for a secretary and that his friend had offered to give me the job on a trial basis, and if it worked for a couple months, then the job would be officially mine full time. I took the offer, and I worked hard at the job, and I excelled, and I've worked there ever since. After a year, I got myself and Meghan an apartment, where we still live.”
The story had come out completely emotionlessly. Every major question I ever had about Courtney, what she was doing, what she was thinking, was answered. It came out slow, and took over ten minutes to tell. By the end, I had no idea what to say. While she hadn't mentioned the details of her drug, alcohol, and sex problems, the depths of those problems had been made clear by the way it was told and the parts left out. I suddenly felt stupid and selfish. The problems and issues I had throughout my life, even the major ones due to Courtney, were nothing compared to what she had gone through. I always knew she had problems, and I even kind of guessed at how bad they were, but it never seemed real, they never seemed like they affected her so much until she told me about them.
I had no idea what to say to her.
While telling the story, Courtney's head had turned the slightest bit away from me and her eyes clearly zoned out looking at the wall behind me. As I watched though, her eyes came back into focus and she turned to look at me.
“So now you know...,” she paused, “just about everything about my life.” She stopped, then started, “I did love you, and do love you. You were the only thing that got me through high school, thoughts of you were all that got me through rehab and my three and a half years at community college. I would never try and get with you again. I know I've ruined that. But you should know that, though I know I caused you some problems in life, you really did save my life, and are the only reason I'm still here. And for that I'll always love you. Even if you hate me.”
I still had no idea what to say to Courtney.
She was impressively calm. I would not have been able to hold it together after telling another person all of that. But Courtney has been through a lot more than I ever have, as I had just learned.
“I'll get Meghan and go now. I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble. I won't come back. I trust that you will be a good teacher for Meghan.” She turned and took a couple steps towards the door, where she stopped and looked back over her shoulder and said, “Thanks for everything, Johnny.”
And then she opened and was out the door, closing it behind her
The instant the door closed, I ran towards it. I opened it and nearly shouted, “Wait!”
I looked out to see Meghan just getting up from her seat and grabbing her mom's hand. Meghan had a look of shock on her face at me rushing out and nearly shouting at her mother, but it was nothing compared to the look of shock on Courtney's face.
I smiled at Courtney, then crouched down to look at Meghan. “Is it okay if I talk to your mother for just a few more minutes, Meghan?”
Meghan smiled at me, then frowned for a second and looked up to her mother. I looked up too and saw Courtney smiling back at Meghan, who smiled back at her mother, then turned back to me and announced, “Sure, Mr. Taylor!”
“Thanks, Meghan.” I got up and looked at Courtney, whose smile had faded back to a look of confusion. I stepped back into the classroom, holding the door open for Courtney. Meghan sat back in the chair just out the door as Courtney walked through the doorway. I shut the door behind her.
Courtney stood just inside the door and opened her mouth to say something, but I walked back over to the table where we had been sitting at the beginning of the parent meeting. I pulled out a chair and offered it to her. As she came over and sat down in it, I pulled another chair next to it, instead of across the table, as we had been at the beginning, and sat down.
Before I had even sat down, Courtney gave me a questioning look and asked, “What's this all about?”
I looked at her and started talking. “I'm glad you told me everything. It answers a lot of questions throughout my life. And I feel kind of sorry for...”
Courtney suddenly stood up and announced demeaningly, “You don't need to apologize, that's not why I told you all of that.”
I quickly grabbed Courtney's hand. She looked shocked at the physical contact. I tugged gently, urging her to sit down. She did, and I turned my chair to face directly at her. She sat sideways in her chair facing me. I was still holding her hand.
“I wasn't apologizing for anything. There are a couple things that I feel like should apologize for, but I won't. It's in the past. But with you being honest with me. I feel like I should be honest with you.”
I took a deep breath. Courtney was giving me a curious look. And so I began.
“The reason I had trouble working with Meghan this year....” I had to pause and take a deep breath. I couldn't believe I was about to tell her this. “I couldn't bare to look at Meghan because she looks just like you. I would look at her and I would see you naked from....”
Courtney jumped out of her seat and pulled her hand away. “You picture my daughter naked?”
She was clearly aghast. I immediately stood up in front of her and went on the defensive. “No! I didn't see her naked, I would look at her and remember you in fifth grade, and inevitably that time we played 'show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine.' I can't help it. I don't want to see that instead of her. It just happened. And I couldn't bare to see a naked young girl when I looked at Meghan, so I stopped looking at her, and started ignoring her. I....” I didn't know what else to say. So I stopped.
Courtney was giving me a strange look. She didn't look angry any more. In fact, she almost looked like she was about to laugh. After a slight pause, she asked, “So, you still think about me?”
That was not the response I had been expecting. Caught off guard, I stuttered out, “What? That's not what I.... Wait, aren't you mad that I see a naked young girl when I look at Meghan?”
Courtney smiled, “Well, you said you pictured me naked, not Meghan, and I'm 34. So you're not really picturing a young girl naked. But if me as a fifth grader counts as a young girl, you sound totally freaked out by it, so it's not like you want to see it or are going to do something because you see it, so no, I'm not mad or worried about it. But you didn't answer my question – do you still think about me?”
I felt like a huge weight was pulled off of me. I told Meghan's mom about what was happening when I saw her daughter, and she didn't care. She believed I wasn't a problem to her kid. It was no longer a secret. Then I thought about her question.
“Sometimes,” I answered, then paused. I resumed, “It's kind of hard not to. You've kind of been a big influence in my life. I've always tried to push it back, to ignore it, to not think about you. But maybe,” I paused again, “maybe I won't try to push it back anymore.”
Courtney got a big grin on her face. “So you wouldn't mind thinking about me?”
The conversation suddenly felt lighthearted. It was like we were kids again. Those childhood friends that always told each other everything and joked around with each other. Only now there was a little more to it.
I grabbed Courtney's hand. “You know, I don't think I would mind thinking about you right now.”
Courtney looked at her hand and leaned forward a little, quietly asking, “You wouldn't?”
I leaned forward too, whispering, “Nope, don't think I'd mind at all.”
And then our lips touched.
It was like deja vu. Just like our first real kiss, that fateful morning nearly eleven years ago, we started out lightly kissing each other, then slowly started getting our tongues involved. Then our hands started roaming up each other's backs.
And just like that first kiss, I totally lost track of time. It seemed like forever and it felt like a moment. I couldn't help but think that I truly did never feel like this with Jess. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was happier with Courtney, even for just that one fateful morning, than I had ever been with Jess.
But I didn't focus heavily on that. Rather I just kept kissing Courtney – any other thoughts quickly disappearing from my mind.
I don't know when it happened, but I realized my shirt was untucked. I didn't realize my shirt was unbuttoned until Courtney pulled my hand forward and off of her so that she could unbutton my cuffs and then pull the shirt off behind me, creatively managing to do this without breaking off the kiss.
Then I felt my undershirt getting pulled up. I had to pull back from our kiss to allow the shirt over my head. I was leaning back into the kiss even before the shirt was off my arms. I quickly reached down and started pulling Courtney's blouse up and over her head. Again, we had to break off our kiss momentarily to get it over her head, but we were quickly back at it, making out like teenagers.
Soon, I felt Courtney's hands working my belt, then my button and fly. As she did so, a thought crossed my mind. I reached down and grabbed her hands, pulling them the slightest bit away. I pulled back from the kiss to see a look of shock and worry on Courtney's face.
“Listen,” I said, “You said that sometimes you used to have sex with me because you thought it was what I wanted – that it was the only way you thought I'd keep you around.” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I did. I then opened them and looked into her eyes and continued. “If we are going to do this, to try and have a relationship, I don't want you doing this because you think it's what I want, or because you think it's the only way I'll stick around. I promise, even if we don't do this, I'll still try and work things out with you. I would like to be in a relationship with you. I mean, I think I still love you. I know I did in high school, but I don't think it ever faded. Why else would I always be coming back for more? Why would I have let you in still in college? Why would I have let what happened that one morning actually happen? It may have been the worst day of my life, but I would be lying to myself, and maybe have been for years, if I said there weren't some great moments there too. Maybe Jess is right. Maybe I was happier with you than I ever was with her. I can only think it's because I still love you and can't get over you.”
Courtney was beaming back at me as I finished my monologue. For a second, she just stood there smiling at me. Then she pulled her hands back to my pants and seductively stated, “If you think I'm doing this for you, you're crazy!”
And with that, she quickly squatted in front of me, taking my pants and boxers to my ankles with her. My rock hard dick slapped up against my stomach. Almost as quickly as she got down though, she was back up. She grabbed my dick in her hand, and started gently twisting her hand around it. As she did, she leaned into my ear and whispered, “I think I love you too,” before gently nibbling on my ear lobe.
My hands quickly shot down and went to work on Courtney's pants. In seconds, I was crouched in front of Courtney, her pants and panties around her ankles. I gently lifted each leg, taking off her shoes and socks, and then her pants and panties. I then slowly slid my hands up her legs, starting at her ankles. I slid them around the back, gently rubbing her calves as I went up, then slid around the front of her thighs, gently hinting at the insides of her thighs, then back around and up to her firm ass, and finally around her hips to her front, circling around her shaved pussy mound, applying light pressure as I went, but never touching her lips.
I heard Courtney moaning, but I continued teasing her until she started bowing her legs a bit, opening them up for me to get in. Without hesitation, I finally reached for her pussy and spread her lips, then dove in tongue first. Courtney let out a small high pitched squeal, the kind I had grown accustomed to hearing from her growing up and never heard from any other girl. Her body shook the tiniest bit as she grabbed my head with both hands and held it to her pussy, pushing her body down and forward into my face.
I quickly went to work. I started by licking lines from just short of her ass to just below her clit, always running my tongue gently along the insides of her hole as I went. As I felt her getting wetter and heard her moans getting more intense, I focused solely on her hole, pushing my tongue in a little and swirling it around, running circles around the edges. I continued this action as I slowly pushed my tongue deeper and deeper into her.
Then, with no warning, Courtney jerked my head up a little and held it tight against her so that my mouth was directly lined up with her clit. Wanting to please her (not that I had the option to do much else with the force with which she held me there), I followed her wishes and started quickly flicking her clit with my tongue. Seconds later I felt her body shake and a wetness cover my chin as she let out a series of her signature high pitched squeals. I sped up my actions on her clit, sometimes nibbling it and lightly sucking on it.
But it seemed like I had barely increased the intensity when Courtney jerked me up into a standing position. I nearly fell over with the speed she pulled me up as my pants and boxers were still around my ankles, but Courtney caught me and held me until I had my balance again. And then she dropped down in front of me. I immediately felt her tongue running up my shaft and looking down I could just barely make out her untying one of my shoes as she continued licking me.
Courtney persisted in licking my shaft, sometimes dropping to my balls, as she slowly took off my shoes and socks, followed by my pants and boxers. Occasionally she would flick the underside of my cockhead, but only briefly before going to the rest of my dick. My hands had moved to lightly hold the back of Courtney's head as her tongue worked on me.
After finally getting all of my clothes off, Courtney's head moved up slightly and her tongue rested on the bottom of my cockhead. Then, in a complete surprise to me, Courtney took my entire dick to the base in one swoop of her head without using her hands. I felt myself bottom out in her throat and let out a sharp gasp.
Then as quickly as it had started, the feeling was gone.
Courtney pulled off entirely and stood up in front of me. I was in a bit of shock at the brief deep throating I had just been given, but as soon as Courtney was standing in front of me, I couldn't help but notice she still had her bra on. I reached forward to reach around and unhook it. Courtney grabbed my hands and shook her head no, pulling me closer to her and placing one of my hands between her legs and the other on her ass. I grabbed her ass tightly and pulled forward as my other hand slipped a couple fingers inside her and gently rubbed her clit with my thumb. Courtney let out a quiet high pitched squeal as I did this, then reached behind her and started unhooking the bra herself.
With her bra off, Courtney grabbed my hand between her legs and pulled it out. She then reached around me, pressing her naked body against mine and started kissing me. I put my arms around her back, pulling her tightly into me, feeling her hard nipples pressing against my chest.
And again, I lost track of time as we kissed. Our hands roamed the back of each other's bodies, but we never let the pressure of our fronts against each other diminish in the least. Eventually, we stopped moving our arms. Courtney locked hers around me in a tight bear hug that she never let up as my hands settled on her ass, grabbing a firm cheek in each hand and pulling it towards me. I'm sure this would've presented a great view of her from behind, the way I was holding her, but I was too lost in the kiss to think about that at the time.
We continued kissing like that for some time, lost in the connection between us.
Courtney was the one who finally changed it up a little, as I felt her slowly rub her stomach in circles, and then up and down against mine as we continued kissing. This had the effect of jerking off my rock hard dick that was pointed straight up and squished between our two bodies.
I have no idea how long this lasted, it seemed like forever, but probably was only a minute or two. But Courtney eventually changed it, and I felt her get on her toes and press her hips forward. She then let out a small high pitched squeal and I moaned more loudly than I meant to as I felt her pussy lips spread onto either side of my dick followed by Courtney raising and lowering her hips, now jerking me off with her pussy lips. I could not only feel her wetness soaking my dick, but I could also feel her clit rubbing against my shaft. It didn't take long until my moans were turning to gasps and Courtney was into a series of high pitched squeals.
While it seemed like ages when she was moving her stomach against mine, it felt like mere seconds with her pussy rubbing up and down my shaft. It seemed like it had barely started when Courtney moaned out, “I need you inside of me!”
I was going to lift her up and lower her on top of my dick, but Courtney pulled back. She turned and laid her back down on the table that we had started our meeting at, her hips hanging the slightest bit off the edge, her feet resting on the chairs we had been sitting on when I called her back into the room, one on either side of her.
For a moment, I stood and just admired the view, Courtney's legs spread, slightly bent, her wet pussy lips slightly spread, inviting me to come in, her stomach and chest lightly rising and lowering with her breathing, her hard nipples pointing almost straight up at the ceiling, and her head lifted up to look at me.
But it was literally just a single moment that I admired the view, as I was unable to hold back. I quickly stepped forward, grabbing my dick, and pointing it at her wet and willing cunt.
And then, with no warning, Courtney's hand came out of nowhere and covered her cunt as she announced, “Wait!”
I was taken completely by surprise, as this was about the polar opposite of her having just begged me to enter her. Standing just barely between her legs, I looked up from her cunt to her face. Her look changed from that of a person desperate to get off to that of someone who was either worried or torn, which looked all the more strange as the look of sexual desire had not nearly diminished.
“I need to tell you something.” As she said this, I could see Courtney's eyes becoming more worried.
I was standing between her legs, my hand still holding my dick and pointing it at her hand-covered-cunt. I had no idea what to say, so I just dumbly responded, “Okay.”
Courtney took a deep breath and began, eyes locked on mine. “You know that morning – the last time I saw you. When your fiancee...”
“You're going to bring that up right now?” I interrupted her, suddenly incredulous. We were having such an incredible moment together, we were bonding, moving past that horrible day, and now, right before I entered her, she was going to bring that up? I could not believe it.
“I'm sorry, but you need to hear this.” She took another deep breath. I also took a deep breath, trying my hardest to not interrupt her and yell at her to not talk about that and move on. She continued, “I am sorry that I messed up your life. I know you think that was the worst day of your life, but you need to know it was the best day of my life. That was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Courtney trailed off and looked away. She seemed suddenly unsure of how to proceed.
I, meanwhile, was briefly distracted from my rising anger, not at Courtney as much as at the situation and her timing. I was distracted by a brief sense of deja vu. I felt like I had heard Courtney say those exact words – 'the best thing that ever happened to me' – mere minutes earlier. My mind raced through the events leading up to where we were now. And then it hit me.
“It can't be the best thing that ever happened to you,” I said, not sounding angry, more sounding confused, “You said Meghan was the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Courtney's head turned back to look at me, her eyes wide. She talked in slow, deliberate sentences, as if she was handpicking each word individually. “I did say that. And that day was the best thing that ever happened to me. They are both true.”
To me, it seemed like she was talking around a point. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what she was saying. My words just started flowing. “They can't both be true. They are two different...”
My words trailed off as the obvious answer suddenly hit me. I don't know how I missed it. I don't know how I missed it. I don't know how I missed it right now. I don't know how I missed it in the meeting when we were talking about Meghan earlier. I don't know how I missed it during the course of the year. I don't know how I missed it before the year even began, when I got the information on the kids in my class, saw Meghan Arnold's name, her mom's name, Meghan's birth date, and didn't put together what had happened nine months before her birth date.
“You mean I'm...”
I trailed off again.
Courtney looked up at me smiling. “You're Meghan's father.”
A million thoughts rushed through my head. The first of which I stated verbally. “Are you sure?”
Courtney was still smiling, looking up at me. “I'm positive.”
“How can you be positive?”
Courtney took a deep breath. “Well, if you must know, I had not had sex since before going into rehab, and I have not had sex since then, though hopefully I'll end that streak today. That day was the only time in nearly the past fifteen years I had sex. So unless God came down and knocked me up, you're the father.”
I didn't question it. Courtney had never lied to me, not about anything like that. So I had no reason not to believe her now.
Plus, the math, Meghan's age, her birth date, it all added up.
I couldn't help stating it aloud. “I'm a father.”
I had been totally zoned out when I said it, but when Courtney responded, “Yes, you are,” my eyes came back into focus on her.
And then a wave of thoughts and feelings hit me. For a long time, ever since Jess left, I just wanted a wife and kids, skipping the girlfriend part. Well, I now had the kid, and I think reconnecting with Courtney is as close to skipping the girlfriend part as possible. This was almost my impossible dream coming true.
I was ecstatic.
My little girl, Meghan, was incredible. She was a very nice girl who was very friendly and a great student. She was any parent's dream child.
I was overjoyed.
But my girl was a few months over ten years old. I had missed the first decade of her life. I missed her being born, learning to walk and talk, going to her first day of school.
I was devastated.
Courtney had been the mother of my kid for ten years. For ten years, I could've been living my dream of having a kid. I could've been watching my kid grow up. I could've been a father to my kid.
I was infuriated.
Yet what if she had told me? For those first few years after Jess left, I still was a depressed, angry person, with lots of hate built up inside me aimed squarely at Courtney. How would I have reacted if she told me? I didn't want a kid then. I wouldn't have believed her. I would have run away from her. I almost certainly would not have been a father to my kid. And what could she have done? Courtney thought I hated her. She thought she ruined my life. For all she knew, I would never get over it. If I was in her position, what more would I have done?
I was confused.
And then, out of nowhere, I wondered why any of this mattered. It was in the past. It could not be changed. Could it have been done better? Maybe. Could it have ended up worse? Also maybe. Perhaps this was the best possible outcome. All that mattered is that I had a wonderful ten year old daughter in Meghan and someone I loved that I could live with forever. If she was willing. Was she? Did she want the same thing as I did?
The question came out as soon as I thought it. “Will you spent the rest of your life with me?”
I hadn't meant to ask it, and it came out much more rushed than I would have let it if I had been really thinking about how to approach this, but it was already asked. No way to change it now.
Her giddy answer of, “Yes,” came out almost as quickly as my question.
I was happy.
For the first time in a long time, possibly since my childhood, I was truly happy. Sure, I had liked my job, liked my life these past few years I had been teaching. But something had always been missing. As I had often thought when my mom had asked me about getting a girlfriend because she wanted grandchildren, I had wanted a wife and kids. I was just too scared from prior experiences to go through the process of getting a girlfriend and hoping she'd stick around. And suddenly it was like I had skipped that phase. I really was getting everything I wanted. I now had a child and a woman who wanted to spend the rest of her life with me. And I knew this woman, she could make me happy, I could make her happy, and we had known each other since we could remember.
And during this realization, I felt something in my hand pulsate.
I had forgotten where I was and what I was doing. I looked down to see my dick still in my hand. I feel like it must've gone soft at some point during all this conversation and thought, but it was rock hard now. And it had just jumped at the mental imagery of Courtney. I looked up to see Courtney, still looking up towards me, naked and beautiful, with her hand still covering her pussy. I had never seen her look so happy. Never in my life. There were no tears of happiness. No signs of confusion or of putting up a facade of happiness. No, she was simply genuinely happy. Perhaps for one of the few times in her life.
I stepped forward and nudged my dick against the hand covering her mound. Smiling at her, and looking her straight in the eye, I asked, “May I?”
Courtney simply responded, “Of course,” and moved her hand out of the way, allowing me to slowly push inside her.
As I entered her, I leaned over Courtney on the table and kissed her, balancing my weight on my arms as I did so. For awhile, I practically laid on top of her, kissing her with a kiss of passion the likes of which I had never felt before. My dick was buried in her completely, but for the moment, both of us ignored that. We simply kissed as passionately as we could, trying to make up for years of lost time.
As has often been the case with my interactions with Courtney, I lost track of time. I just continued focusing on the kiss, trying to express feelings I had long buried with only my tongue and lips. The intensity of my kissing was clearly returned by Courtney. I have no idea what was running through her mind, but whatever it was seemed to be bringing the same amount of focus and intensity into the kiss that I was.
It wasn't until Courtney broke off the kiss to let off a short high pitched squeal that I realized more was happening. As soon as she made the noise, I realized that at some point I had started thrusting my dick repeatedly into her. For her part, Courtney was raising her hips to meet each of my thrusts. I have no idea when it had started or who had started it, but we were going at it fast and strong already.
When I realized what was going on, I shifted my weight to one arm and brought my other hand, to her chest, first just lightly grasping her breast, but then transitioning into a massaging action, and then into a focus on her nipple, rubbing it, flicking it, pulling on it. As I was doing this, my body was slightly angled, and my thrusting into Courtney was likewise angled. Apparently it was pleasing to her, or perhaps it was just my ministrations on her breast, but with my new position, Courtney began gasping, occasionally letting out one of her high pitched squeals she often makes.
I continued this action for several minutes before Courtney's gasping and squealing suddenly started to increase in speed and intensity. Sensing her oncoming orgasm, I quickly switched sides, leaning onto my opposite arm and bringing my other hand straight to her other nipple, all while slowly increasing the speed of my thrusting, now coming from the opposite angle I had just been at.
I had barely started going at it from this new side before Courtney went off. She let out the longest high pitched squeal I had ever heard from her as her back arched, her cunt muscles tightened, and an explosion of wetness suddenly occurred around the base of my cock, dripping down my balls and thighs.
When she first got off, I stopped thrusting, letting her absorb her peak. But with her tightened cunt around my dick, I couldn't help but start thrusting into her again. I put my hands on either side of her again, balancing my weight equally as I started thrusting straight into her. While I thrust into her, Courtney did not loosen up at all – her back stayed arched, her cunt muscles stayed tight, and she started gasping for air between her short high pitched squeals.
Prior to Courtney's orgasm, I didn't feel like I was anywhere close to getting off. But as I thrust into her orgasming body, I felt my orgasm rapidly approaching. After what seemed like barely a minute of thrusting into her like this, Courtney's back began to drop. Not in one smooth motion, but rather in jerks. It would fall a bit, then it would jerk back up, then fall, then jerk up. It continued this process until she was mostly flat on the table with only small jerks launching her body up an inch or two at a time.
Along with this dropping and jerking of her back, Courtney's cunt was also loosening and tightening around me as I thrust into her. It felt like her insides were literally trying to milk my dick. I knew I wasn't going to be able to take this for long. I quickly began moaning and thrusting faster, harder, and deeper into Courtney.
Feeling my balls tightening, I announced, “I'm going to cum!”
I had looked straight down at Courtney as I said this. Her eyes had been closed, her mouth hanging open, beads of sweat visible on her forehead.
But as soon as I said that, Courtney instantaneously opened her eyes and looked straight at me, immediately responding, “Meghan wants a brother.”
And that was it.
I felt my first burst of cum as if it was a rocket lifting off from my cock.
Then the second.
And the third.
And while I was cumming, I couldn't stop thrusting into her, shooting more of my seed into her fertile belly with each thrust.
And I just kept cumming.
I don't know how long I was going off for. It felt like hours to me, though I'm sure it was less than a minute. However, after my balls had emptied and I had shot all I had into her, it was like my dick didn't want to stop. I kept thrusting, and I could feel my dick trying to shoot more cum out despite the fact that my reserves were dry. I simply kept thrusting, experiencing the longest, most incredible orgasm of my life. The only time I had felt anything even close to that was that fateful morning with Courtney some eleven years ago or so. But even that had nothing on what I was feeling right then.
Once again, I have no idea how long it went on for. Eventually I came down, but as opposed to my prior experiences with sex, instead of abruptly stopping, my thrusts simply slowed until I was at a complete stop, still buried to the hilt inside of her.
I caught my breath as I felt my dick slowly soften inside of Courtney. Soon, I had some control over my breathing and opened my eyes. I saw Courtney staring up at me. She wrapped her legs around my back, holding me tight into her and said, “Help me off the table.”
The necessity with which she said it made me react immediately. I tried to pull out, but Courtney's legs were holding me into her.
Courtney must've felt my movement and clarified. “No, don't pull out, just twist around so I can lean onto the floor while you're still standing and inside of me.”
Again, Courtney was very insistent in how she said it. For whatever reason, I didn't question her demand and just did as she asked. I twisted my body as Courtney slid herself over towards the edge of the table. She then pushed a chair out of the way, and slid half her body off the table, leaning one hand down and against the floor. Then she slid off completely, catching herself with her other arm, then settled down against the floor. I held her hips up to give her some extra support.
She ended up with her shoulders and head rested against the floor a foot and a half or so in front of my feet with her body angled straight up at me and her legs, which were wrapped around my hips, now wrapped around my back, keeping her body angled. Looking down, I could see my slightly softened dick bent downwards and into her spread pussy lips. Further down, I could see her beautiful boobs hanging out and down over the bottom of her face, raising and lowering slightly with each breath she took. I could just make out her mouth between her boobs. It was slightly open, taking in and letting out her breaths. Her eyes were closed, as if in concentration.
I simply took in the sight for a bit. It was an extremely sexy sight, even if we weren't really having sex at that point – I was just resting my half-limp dick in her up-turned cunt. But eventually, my curiosity got the better of me.
“What's with the position?”
Courtney opened her eyes and smiled at me through her boobs. “This is supposed to help someone get pregnant. It creates easier travel for the sperm, or something like that.”
I chuckled. “You really wanted to get pregnant again, huh?”
Courtney laughed. “Actually, it was the last thing on my mind coming into this meeting today. I've been telling Meghan for awhile that I couldn't give her a brother. But when you said you were going to cum, her request suddenly burst into my mind, and it seemed like the right thing to do.”
I smiled, but gave her a confused look, asking, “If you weren't planning on getting pregnant again, how'd you know about this position?”
Courtney laughed again. “You learn a lot when you raise a little girl. When I took Meghan to daycare when she was two or three, I would get to talk to some of the other parents, and some loved to talk about either what they did to get pregnant, or what they were doing at the time trying to get pregnant again. I guess it's hard for a lot of women.” She paused here and laughed some more. “I guess it's not for me. That first time just kind of fell in my lap. I figured it wasn't worth taking any chances now though. One of the things a lot of the women said they did was turn their bodies upside down after their man ejaculated in them. So I thought I'd try it.”
I again gave her a questioning look through my smile. “And they did that with their man still inside them?”
Courtney smiled up at me. “No, no they didn't. I just am not ready to feel you taken out of me yet.”
I couldn't help but laugh, asking, “And how long do you need to stay in this position for?”
Courtney laughed for a bit, then feigned a thinking face, saying, “Ummmmm... I don't know, but longer than this.”
And then we both had a good laugh, which was slightly awkward in the position we were in, but that just made us laugh harder.
After some time, we began talking, though still not letting up in our position.
“So you're okay with me trying to get pregnant again?”
“Well, I missed the first decade of my first kid's life, I'd love to be around to experience that for another kid.”
“So you really want to spent your life with me?”
“I really, truly do.” I took a deep breath. “I'll be honest with you. Had someone asked if I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you yesterday, I most certainly would have said no. But you've cleared up a lot today. As much time as we spent together, I never really knew you. I thought I was just a tool to you, someone you took advantage of to get what they wanted. I didn't know about all your problems in high school. I didn't know you had sex with me because you thought I wanted it. I didn't know you had gone through rehab. I didn't know you had chased after Jess to try and get her to come back to me. I definitely didn't know that I had a ten year old daughter whose life I had missed out on. And I certainly never knew at any point in my life that you actually loved me. I always thought it was a one-sided affair. Knowing all of this now, yes, I truly want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Courtney was beaming at me from below through most of this monologue. Towards the end though, she frowned. “I'm sorry I never told you about Meghan.”
“There's nothing to apologize for. How could you know what would've happened? In some respects, I think you made the right decision. If you had told me about her in those first few years after she was conceived, I was mired in such a deep depression and held such contempt for you that I may have run off. I don't think I would have wanted anything to do with you then. After I started coaching and teaching, who knows, maybe it would've been different. If you had told me all of what you told me today then, maybe I wouldn't have accepted it in the same way. I might have needed more time and experience in life to be able to deal with it as I did today. Then again, maybe I would have fully accepted it and we could've started a life together earlier. Who knows? All that matters is that it's all in the past. It probably could've been better, but it also probably could've been worse. Just like with everything else in life. All I know is that in the present, from this day forward, I want to spend my life with you, to have more kids with you, and to be a father to my kids.”
Courtney smiled up at me. “I would like that too.”
For awhile, we said nothing. I simply stood there, holding Courtney's hips as she hung onto the floor below me. I couldn't help but admire Courtney's beauty. She truly was, at least in my eyes, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I had loved her since I was a kid, and now I was going to be with her forever. So I kept staring down at her beautiful face, at her large hanging breasts, at her flat stomach arched slightly backwards, at her shiny-from-wetness pussy lips surrounding my shaft...
I felt my dick jump inside her.
The limp guy was coming to life.
Courtney obviously felt it too, giggling, and saying, “I guess I should get down from here now. If I get you all worked up again, I don't know if I'll have the time to get you off again. Meghan's been waiting outside for an awfully long time now, I don't know how much longer I can keep her waiting.”
I couldn't help but laugh. At no point had I forgotten about Meghan waiting outside, but I certainly did recognize how long she had been out there. “Okay,” I said in a fake-sad tone, “If you insist.” Then, before we started to separate, added, “You are turning kind of red down there.”
Courtney gave a chuckle, but shot back, “You think I look red, you can't imagine what I feel like. It's like all the blood in my body is currently pooled in my head!”
I laughed as Courtney unhooked her legs from behind my back. I pulled back a bit, letting my now semi-hard dick pop out of her and settle into a position pointing almost straight across the room. Slowly, I lowered her hips to the ground. Once on the ground, Courtney sat up on her knees, grabbing her head and closing her eyes as she regained her sense of balance. I stood just in front of her, ready to offer her a hand when she was ready to stand up.
Finally, Courtney opened her eyes and let her hands fall to her sides, seemingly recovered from her many minutes spent upside down. I put my hand out to help her up. Courtney looked up at me and gave me one of her signature smirks, something I hadn't seen since elementary school. I knew something was up. And I soon found out what.
Instead of getting all the way up, Courtney got up on her knees, leaned forward, and took my dick all the way in her mouth. It was only there for an instant though, as she quickly took it out, and moving it around with her hand, she carefully licked clean every millimeter of my dick, from the base of the shaft to the tip of the head.
By the time Courtney finished, my dick was nearly as hard as it got.
“Sorry,” she said, looking up at me, “I suddenly felt the need to taste myself on you. But we definitely don't have the time to take care of that bad boy again. When you go home, think of me when you take care of it.”
I smiled at Courtney as she began standing up. “Don't you worry, I'll definitely be thinking about you when it's being taken care of.”
We both had a quick laugh as we took the few quick steps over to where our clothes were scattered about. I grabbed my boxers as Courtney reached into her pants to get her panties.
As she pulled out her panties and was getting ready to put them on, I dropped my boxers on the ground. I looked at the panties Courtney was holding, and asked, “Can I see those?”
Courtney gave me a weird look, but held out the panties for me. I grabbed them and spread them out before me.
They were sky blue panties. Satin. With a little lace design in front just over the crotch area.
In a tone of disbelief, I quietly said, “I have these panties.”
“Is there something I need to know about you?”
I took my eyes off the panties to look at Courtney, who was giving me a jokingly questionable look.
“You were wearing them the last time I saw you,” I continued.
Courtney was clearly thinking for a second, then looked back at me. “Yeah, I guess I was. They were my favorite panties. I bought another pair when I left the ones at your house...” Courtney's voice trailed off towards the end of that statement, as she put together what I had said. After a brief pause, she asked in shock, “Wait, you still have those?”
I handed the panties back to Courtney. She grabbed them and just held them, staring at me. “Yeah,” I answered, “and your shoes, dress, and sweater also.”
Courtney just stared at me for a moment. I felt myself blush as she stared. Finally, she asked, “Why?”
“I don't know,” I answered honestly. “I had packed them in with Jess's lingerie and brought them back to my apartment with me the next day. I threw them all in the back of a closet. Years later, when I was moving back to this area, I found them. I threw out all of Jess's stuff. But for whatever reason, I brought yours with me. I think it's all in the back of a closet in my house as we speak.”
I had honestly forgotten about that until I saw her panties. They were buried in the back of a closet I rarely went through. I probably had not seen them since I threw them there. I really could not remember why I had brought them back.
Then another thought crossed my mind. “I still have those white panties you left for me after we first had sex in eighth grade.”
There was a long silence as both of us processed what I had just said. I abruptly ended the silence saying, as much to myself as to Courtney, “I don't know, Courtney. Maybe I have kept feelings for you all these years. Maybe I really did still love you and tried to bury that love with hate. I feel like I don't know how else to explain why I kept all of that.”
Courtney ran up and hugged me. She didn't kiss me, she just wrapped her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her too, resting my head against hers, enjoying the feeling of her naked body against mine – not in a sexual way, but in a loving way.
For a little while, we stayed in that hug. It wasn't sexual. In fact, I think my dick became more limp as I stood hugging her there. But it was the most loving feeling I had ever experienced in my life.
The hug finally ended when we heard a knock at the door.
“Are you done in there yet mommy?”
I jumped, but it was nothing compared to Courtney jumping in my arms.
She raised her voice, answering, “Just a few more minutes darling.”
Courtney turned back to me and whispered, “If only she knew what I was done doing!”
Both of us gave a nervous laugh as we rushed over to our clothes and started getting dressed.
I spoke the thought that had been on both our minds. “Do you think she heard us? I mean, we heard her pretty clearly through the door.”
“I don't know,” came Courtney's rushed response. “I don't think so. I tried to stay quiet...”
“I did too,” I added quickly.
“But I don't know. I thought we were quiet enough, but I don't know. I think she would have come in if she had heard the noises we were making, worried something was wrong. And she didn't come in. I guess we'll find out soon enough.”
Courtney was fully dressed and straightening out her clothes as I buttoned up my shirt. I asked the next obvious question. “What do we tell Meghan?”
Courtney again quickly responded, “I don't know. Do you think we should tell her you're her dad? Should we tell her we want to date? Or that we're trying to give her a brother?”
I tried to think. I wanted to say tell Meghan everything. I wanted to start being her father as soon as possible. But the more I thought about it, the worse it seemed for Meghan. I figured it was probably best she not learn I was her father while I was teaching her.
“It would probably be best for Meghan if we didn't tell her anything until the end of the school year.”
Courtney looked at me aghast. “But that's six months away!”
I cringed. That was a long time. But I forced myself to stick with my answer. “I really do think it'll be best for her if she didn't know until then.”
Courtney stared for a few seconds more in shock, then dropped her head a little. “Yeah, you're right. We should let the year play out, then figure it out from there.”
I nodded, having just finished tucking in my shirt and buckling my belt. I sat down in a chair to put my shoes on.
“So when will I get to see you again?”
I looked up at Courtney after she asked the question. She looked almost totally professional, though her hair was kind of messed up. She smoothed it out as much as possible, but she just couldn't make it perfect. She was staring at me with a worried look on her face. I went back to putting on my shoes as I answered.
“I don't know if I can honestly answer that. Hopefully soon. What I can tell you is that I will call you tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. Then we can figure out when we can meet, maybe on weekends, and figure out how to do it without letting Meghan know.”
I finished tying my shoes and looked up at Courtney at about the same time I finished talking. She simply smiled, and nodded in acknowledgement.
I stood up, walked over to Courtney, and then the two of us walked to the door. As I put my hand on the door knob, Courtney whispered in my ear, “I love you.”
I whispered back in hers, “I love you too.”
Then Courtney leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the lips and backed up as I opened the door.
The exclamation from Meghan made both Courtney and I jump. She started putting a book she had been reading into her backpack.
“You guys were in there for a long time.”
“Well,” Courtney began, “Jo–” She quickly caught and corrected herself. “Mr. Taylor and I had a lot to talk about.”
Meghan looked up worried. “About me?”
I crouched down in front of Meghan. Without thinking, I took her hand in mine. “Some of it was about you, Meghan. But there were other things I needed to talk to your mom about too. What I can tell you though, is that school is going to be a lot better for you starting tomorrow. I promise I will do everything I can to make this the best school year ever for you.”
Meghan got a huge smile on her face. “Okay Mr. Taylor!”
I let go of Meghan's hand and stood up as Courtney announced, “Time to go darling.”
Meghan threw her backpack over her shoulders and announced, “Okay!”
Courtney then grabbed her – our! – daughter's hand and turned to walk away.
Looking back at me, Meghan announced, “Bye Mr. Taylor!”
I waved at her and, smiling, said, “Bye Meghan!”
Courtney then looked over her shoulder and said, “Bye Mr. Taylor,” winking at me as she said it.
I laughed, responding, “Bye Cou–,” stopping myself. Then quickly correcting myself, I finished, “Goodbye Ms. Arnold.”
They both then turned and walked away.
Just before they turned, the corner at the end of the hall, I heard Meghan ask, “Why's your hair all messy, mommy?”
I thought I could hear Courtney shush her daughter from around the corner.
And then they were gone.
We didn't even make two months.
It just felt wrong, and it made things so much harder.
So shortly after a month later we told Meghan everything. I was her real father. I wanted to become a father to her. I loved her mother. Her mother was pregnant again.
Meghan was ecstatic. She started jumping up and down and told me how happy she was that I was her daddy and how excited she was that she was going to finally have a brother. She even climbed up on my lap and started kissing my cheeks, announcing with each kiss, “I love you daddy!” When she was done with me, she climbed up on Courtney and did the same to her.
We told Meghan she had to keep it a secret at school, at least until the end of the year, otherwise things might not work out and I might get in trouble. She said she would.
I moved in with them the next day.
Shortly after I had first moved in with Courtney and Meghan, Courtney and I sat down with both my parents and hers and explained everything to them – and I do mean everything! From Courtney's drug problems and social issues in high school (that Courtney's mom had never talked to my mom about, and even Courtney's parents didn't know the full extent of) to her sneaking through my bedroom window at night (which apparently both our parents really never caught on to) to the reason why Jess left me (which my parents were very curious to finally learn) to introducing our daughter to my parents (though my parents actually already knew her, as my mom was still good friends with Courtney's mom and had met Meghan before, but they didn't know she was really my daughter and Courtney never told anyone who the father was, so it was a shock – and relief – to both her parents and mine to learn that minor detail) to how we reconnected when Meghan entered my class and that Courtney was pregnant again (which my mom especially was happy to hear, she had been slightly disappointed when she realized she had missed out on helping to raise my now ten year old daughter, but was overjoyed to hear that a new baby was on the way). Let me tell you, that was a long and eye-opening conversation!
True to her word, Meghan never said anything about me and her mother to any of her friends, or even mentioned anything about it at school. We made it through the rest of the year fine.
Towards the end of the summer, nine months after I had reconnected with Courtney, Meghan... did not get a little brother.
She got a little sister.
The two were inseparable. Meghan loved her sister and spent all the time she could with her. Nonetheless, she told her mother and I, “You need to keep trying to have a boy!”
My eyes went wide as Courtney burst out laughing, promising her daughter that we would “keep trying,” She finished that statement with a wink to me.
Sure enough, just over a year and a half later, Meghan's baby brother was born.
A few months later, Courtney and I were officially married. The wedding was a blast. I can't explain in words how happy both Courtney's and my parents were.
Meghan's now a senior in high school. Courtney wouldn't let her do cheerleading in junior high, and I couldn't talk her into trying out for girl's soccer. However, Meghan is the star of the girl's volleyball team. She was disappointed when she ended up sixth overall in her class academically. She had wanted to be salutatorian (she knew she couldn't get valedictorian – that person was over two points ahead of her – but she only missed out on salutatorian by half a point, with three others just slightly above her). However, her grades, along with her volleyball skills, had gotten her a full scholarship to her first choice college next year. And thank god! Because Courtney and I needed all the money we could to raise Meghan's sister and brother, now in second grade and kindergarten respectively, and to save for them to go to college. Both her younger siblings are much more work than Meghan ever was. I guess that means I'm a bad influence on them, as her mother did fine alone on Meghan for a decade! Meghan's college is an eight hour drive away. But she promised on her own, with no urging from myself or her mother, to come back and visit at least once a month, hopefully more. She loved her siblings, and in some ways acted more motherly to them than sisterly. She was devastated to be leaving them behind, but she really wanted to go to the college she got into and, as she told us, she trusted her mother and I to take care of them. How nice of her!
As for Courtney and I – we are doing great. Better than any other married couple I've ever known. The only time we argue is over the pettiest little things – and we usually end up laughing by the end of it. We have just been through so much together that any of the problems or challenges that arise just seem insignificant in comparison. I still have my job teaching, though there was some crafty maneuvering on my part to clear up any misunderstandings about marrying one of my students' mothers (they usually look down on that in schools!). Courtney still has her job as a secretary for her dad's friend. And believe it or not, she now makes more than me! She didn't when I first moved in, but I guess secretaries get bigger raises than teachers (I'll try to hold back from making any social commentaries about that). Our sex life is great, though it has dropped off in recent years. But by dropped off, I mean that we do take an occasional night or two off each week – raising three kids is just too exhausting!And I haven't even mentioned our house! It's not huge, but it's a beautiful house. It looked horrible when we first bought it, but we got it for really cheap because of all the problems with it. I think Courtney thought I was crazy when I suggested the house. But she doesn't now! Over the next several years, we took care of the problems, one at a time. Now the house looks completely different, totally personalized. It is definitely our own house.
So everything is going good. I guess Courtney and I aren't really extraordinary in any way. We're not famous. We're not rich. But we don't want to be. We have everything we want.
And after everything we've been through, we are finally happy, and have been for years.
I'm sure some people would disagree with the fact that I got back together with Courtney, who think we should've gone our separate ways, that I shouldn't have taken her back or that it shows weakness that I never could get over her. Well, to those people, I'm sorry. Not for getting together with Courtney. No, I'm sorry that you will never get to experience the type of love that bonds two people together for a life time. Through all problems, troubles, and insecurities. An unbreakable connection between two people, come what may. Yes, I'm sorry you do not know what true love is.