No matter where our lives take us, I'll always have a place in my
heart -- and elsewhere -- for this man. Somehow he touched a part of a
young college girl who'd travel miles to experience his tenderness.
Given the chance, I do it again -- even now. He's truly one who always
tempts me -- even without trying.
***
When I was in college, I had a huge crush on a family friend. He
was older. Had long blonde hair, was a musician -- but of course, was
married.
During one of his weekend jaunts, he skipped the hotel and stayed with me in a modest loft apartment.
The loft area -- the brochure dubbed it a townhouse -- was just
barely large enough for a double bed, night stand and set of drawers.
What I loved most about the layout was the skylight and the view from
the top.
I remember how excited I was that weekend. I was giddy. I was ready to make this the weekend I let him know how I felt. Or, better yet, the one when we felt each other.
Before now, it was mainly flirting and the occasional kiss -- but nothing more.
I expected nothing more than our usual
companionship -- lunch, conversations, laughs -- but hoped he would
leave the wedding band in the glove box and I could take full advantage
of the seven-year itch some couples experience.
I have to admit, I was so nervous. Why
was I? I'd laid several men before who were 'off limits.' I conquered
who I thought were challenges and had some of the best flings in my
young life.
He's different. There's more to this relationship than random sex. I wanted this time to be love making.
My first ploy was the shower. I
deliberately walked around in my robe half undone. I left the door
unlocked hoping he would feel an urge. I spent extra time making sure
the body wash was all over and peeked through the half-opened curtain
in the bathroom mirror to see if I had an audience. He refrained. [I learned years later he did peek (or was it peak?).]
On to plan No. 2. Bedtime attire. I
didn't want to seem too eager or slutty so I simply opted for the tank
shirt and short set -- sans panties, of course.
I really wanted to pull out the
lingerie -- the silky gowns that hugged every curve (I had great
breasts then) -- but didn't want to shatter the trust.
I, too, didn't have the nerve to share
his shower. Instead, I waited with hands between my legs in
anticipation. I was shaking I was so nervous.
Not sure what happened after that, but when we finally made it up to the loft the tension was so thick.
As the night progressed we laid together,
made out like horny teens (I was barely legal) but stayed away from
what we both really wanted. At one point I was so untrusting of my
intentions I walked downstairs and opted for sleeping on an overstuffed
chair that oddly enough faced the bathroom door. (I had hopes he
would come to fetch me ... lift me off the chair with his strong arms
and carry me to the nearest surface for a good old-fashioned romp.)
Instead, he leaned over the loft and
called to me. My heart jumped. My legs quivered and there were certain
twinges between my legs. I was still moist from earlier, but couldn't
wait to feel what I know his fingers could do. All I wanted to do
was dash upstairs. I was torn. Do I play coy? Do I assume the role of
vixen? Where was the middle ground?
To be continued...
--Always Tempted
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