16 comments/ 25390 views/ 3 favorites Do You Remember? By: Goldeniangel author's note: This is not meant to antagonize anyone or in offense. This is my memory of where I was, what I was doing, and how it happened for me. It is a re-telling, nothing more and nothing less. I realize that this would perhaps be more appropriate closer to Sept 11, but it's hard to judge exactly when each submission will come out. And so I'm submitting it now, and it will be here when Sept 11 is too. ----------------------- I was sitting in my U.S. History class, waiting for it to start. There was something going on with the professor’s at the head of the room, they were talking to each other and running in and out of the classroom. Although this wasn’t a particularly large class, I didn’t know anyone in it and so I just sat there, looking around at the cheerful talking people around me and wishing that I had someone to talk to. But I was shy, and there wasn’t anyone sitting by me that was also alone. So I just watched as the Professors wheeled in some kind of screen and put it up onto the projector. It looked like some kind of news report, only strange... smoke was billowing in the background and it looked like New York or something... then the picture flashed to what looked like the Pentagon, also burning... Was this some kind of strange movie? Like “Independence Day”? Or an old movie, I tried to remember if there was any time that the Pentagon had been burning... “On today, September 11, 2001, two planes have been flown into the Twin Towers in New York City, another one has hit the Pentagon...” The newswoman’s voice was slowly trickling throughout the room as my numb brain tried to figure out why she was saying today’s date. The entire room slowly got very, very quiet as it flashed back to the Twin Towers, where it was still smoking. It was as though my entire head was buzzing, I couldn’t hear anything... the words coming out of the TV seemed somehow muted. It wasn’t that the room was loud, there was absolutely no noise coming from anyone anymore... we’d all realized that it wasn’t a movie, it wasn’t part of the history lesson. It was part of today’s history, our generation’s history... it was happening right now, in front of us, and we were watching it live. Every thing happening at this second. Small screens in the corner showed the actual plane crashing into the second tower, described the attacks on both the Pentagon and the World Trade Center. We were numb, muted, completely caught in a frozen moment of horror that seemed both surreal and dangerous. Part of me was completely numb, while the back part of my mind was going a mile a minute. Attacks... attacks on U.S. soil... Pearl Harbor... Day of Infamy... war... war... the Pentagon... the draft?... death... my grandfather - would he be in Washington today? My Aunt was due home from Boston this morning, what flight? What flight? Why couldn’t I remember the flight? Why had I been so arrogant as to think that the flight number wouldn’t matter? Suddenly it all mattered, it all mattered quite a lot. I was shaking in my seat, watching as the firefighters tried to put out the fires at the Pentagon, as the screen went back to the World Trade Center and they described the efforts of the men inside, trying to get everyone out. Numbly I stared at the buildings, looking at the plane that was lodged into it and wondering how anyone in the floors above it was possibly going to make it out of the building alive... It was a point that was moot as suddenly screams erupted out of the TV, a collective scream that the classroom echoed as the tower began to crumble. It was like watching a pile of dirt or sand that had been built up too high suddenly start to fall... it collapsed where the plane was and slowly just fell down from there, the upper most part of the building staying the most intact... Horrifyingly slow, almost as though we might be able to reach out our hands and stop it... that teeny tiny building on the screen that was falling... falling... The TV showed every heart-wrenching second of it as the woman on the screen went silent, screams from all sides echoed through the TV... hers? Maybe. Definitely the people around her... Us? We were silent again. Mute in horror, not knowing what to do, having the sudden urge, the need, to be there, to help to do something, ANYTHING... And suddenly I realized what it meant. That simple falling building, that silly looking toy building that was so small on the screen. That building was full of people, people who were trying to get out, people who were trying to get others out... there were so many people in that building. It wasn’t just the tragedy of the people that had been on the plane, but inside that small building that I had wanted to keep from falling, much as a child wants to keep its sand castle from being swept away, were hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives. A sob ripped through the room as one girl suddenly ran out, and then there were tears pouring from my eyes as I wondered how many people I had just watched die. Watched die in front of me, and irrationally I felt as though I should have been able to help them... if I had just been able to do something then everything would have been different... We watched. For the whole hour of our class we watched, watched every horrifying detail, heard every description, we were glued to it. At the end of the hour there was nothing more. Such a short time span... and it was packed with so much. I wandered across the campus, back to my room where I turned on my own TV and kept watching. My roommate came back, all she’d heard was rumors about it... I called my boyfriend and tried to talk to him, he knew even less than my roommate had. I felt so alone then... I had been too far away to help, and yet too close... One hour. Just one short hour on 9/11. *************************** I wrote this poem on September 11, 2002 A Moment Of Silence One moment of silence above the flames and the screams the sobbing of millions the dying of dreams one moment of silence as the plane flew overhead to remember the crash the wounded, the dead. one moment of silence as heros rushed up destined to go down they still could not stop. one moment of silence a plane ended their calls they gave their lives so only two towers would fall. a moment of silence on a day of remembrance. Do You Remember? Jay - We haven't spoken in awhile, and maybe that's my fault. Maybe it's yours; I don't really know. After receiving no response whatsoever when I told you that yes, I am still wildly attracted to you, I assumed that I wasn't what you wanted anymore, and decided to go on about my business. It's not that I wanted to stop talking to you or seeing you, but you've made it obvious that you simply aren't attracted to me anymore. While we were seeing each other, if you want to call it that, there were only a few times that you initiated any sexual activities whatsoever. Were you ever truly attracted to me, or was I merely a distraction from your loneliness, an oasis in your desert of celibacy? I'll never know the truth; you and I can't have these discussions face-to-face, remember? I want to talk to you specifically about the first time we had sex. Since you have such a shitty memory to begin with, I want to know if you remember what happened that night. I do, and I think about it often. So often lately, in fact, that it's kept me up nights, my own hands tracing the path that I remember yours taking. It's kept me up thinking to the point that I'm now writing this letter. This whole thing started when you invited me to hang out at your place. I think it was a Friday night. It was cold out, I remember, but wanting to impress you, I wore a low cut v-neck shirt under a snug fitting hoodie. I figured it really wouldn't matter, seeing as how you live just three doors down from me. You opened the door, looking sexy as usual. You are still the only boy I know who can make sweatpants and a t-shirt look so good. I sat in your living room while you tinkered around in the kitchen, fixing us drinks. You gave me a tumbler full of something, I don't remember what exactly, and we sipped and talked, occasionally watching the TV in the background. After two of those tumblers, I remember getting very warm and taking off my hoodie. Then I remember you saying you were playing ball earlier. "I really fucked up my shoulder this time," you told me. "Poor baby," I purred at you, "What can I do to help?" You grinned at me, dimples deepening in your cheeks. "Give me a back rub." I sat in your chair, with you sitting between my legs, and started to knead your back. First over your shirt, but eventually I worked my hands underneath and started rubbing your bare flesh, tracing my fingers up and down your spine, rubbing the base of your neck, massaging the hollow spots behind your ears. While I did this, I remember you rubbing my calves with your hands. Leaning forward, you ran your hands up and down my legs, making my heart race. This was probably the least erotic thing a man had ever done for me, rubbing the bottom of my legs outside my jeans, but since it was you, and any touch you give me is fare game, I was instantly turned on. I finished your massage with a light kiss to the back of your neck. After a few minutes, you went to your bedroom and grabbed the comforter and two pillows, and announced you were going to lie down. It was getting late, so I lay down with you, and you pulled me close to your body. Emboldened by the alcohol, I'm certain, I started to rub your abdomen and chest. I remember (vividly) how your shirt rose over the defined muscles and lay in the valleys between. Your body always amazed me; you are an athletic guy, that's for sure, and evident in the definition and tone of your body. When I fantasize at night, it's your body that I imagine holding mine. At this point, my memory does get a little fuzzy as to the events. I do remember you sliding my body on top of you, running your hands all over me. I remember you kissing my violently, and me being able to taste the alcohol on your lips. At one point, you ripped the shirt from my body and started kissing my chest, moving your mouth back and forth, licking and sucking on each of my breasts. Then I remember you turning and pinning me to the floor. With one hand, you clasped mine together, over my head. The other you slid down my body and unbuttoned my jeans. I tried to move my hands to pull them down, but you held firm. Instead of pulling them off me, you slid your hand inside and started to play. I remember you stroking my clit, softly at first, then more rapidly. You started tugging on it, moving it up and down with your fingers. At this point, you let my hands go, and I grabbed at your head, the floor, the carpet. You continued your assault with kisses to my chest and my stomach. Tracing your tongue along the lines of my abs, my tattoo, and circling around my navel ring. You finally pulled off my jeans and continued the journey to my thighs, swirling your tongue around, and leaving little hickies on the softest parts of my inner thighs, like a brand. I remember you stopping, and leading me into your bedroom. I remember us both naked, lying in your bed. You moved between my legs, and let your dick slide inside me. You started moving very slow at first, in and out of me, but you soon started pumping harder and faster, either from the excitement of the situation, or because you hadn't gotten laid in awhile, I'm not sure. We switched positions a few times. Once I was on top of you, riding you, and then you were behind me, hands tight around my waist, pumping in and out. I think you liked this position the best, because you grabbed my ass, my hair, and my breasts. It seemed like you had eight pairs of hands, and they were all touching, caressing, grabbing my body. I remember you moaning, almost growling softly, in my ear as you came. A few seconds later, I came too, my whole body going into convulsions, and screaming your name. I stayed with you that night, and for a few nights after. In the morning, you made me breakfast, and we joked around like we were still just friends. Like nothing had changed. Maybe for you, it hadn't. I'd like to think that I was more than some random piece of ass for you, but I'll never really know. The great thing about this site is that I know you'll never see it, so I can say whatever I like. What I guess I'm trying to say is that I remember what it was like, when we were still close. I hope you do to. With love and much respect, Rae Do You Remember? The club was packed that night, dancers swarmed the small floor, drinks were being spilled as bodies collided and the floor was sticky with alcohol, mixers, juices and who knows what else. The music was loud and thumping, the bass pounding through people close enough to the speakers to feel the vibrations, deep in their chests. I slipped through the crowds as best as I could, trying to avoid being stepped on, my short frame often causing me problems as people just didn't see me. Having already been in the club for the last few hours there was enough alcohol coursing through my blood stream to make me slightly more carefree than I would usually be. Reaching the center of the dance floor, I glanced around at the people surrounding me, subconsciously comparing myself to them. I was surrounded by an abundance of tall, blonde haired, model perfect girls, tight skirts, tiny tops, you must know the type. Compared to them I thought no one would notice little old me, short, brunette, brown eyed and far from perfect. You obviously disagreed with my own analysis though, perhaps you are attracted to shorter women, perhaps you prefer brunettes to blondes. Or perhaps I won you over with my smile, the way my eyes light up when I'm happy, and how I just didn't care, I was just having a good time. Dancing to the heavy bass music I was almost in my own world, oblivious to everyone around me, I just wanted to dance, wanted to forget the nightmare week I had been having. Fifty two hours at work, and with mum being away I'd had to take care of my younger siblings for a few days, dragging them to work with me as it was the school holidays. And work was a drag, too many customers and not enough staff to take care of them, just like every year. One day my manager will learn. So there I was, lost in my own forgetting, until you came along. I wasn't sure you actually wanted to be dancing with me at first, but when you showed no signs of moving I guess I had to assume you did. I'm so glad you chose me, the odds are no one else would have been daring enough to do what we did that night. Do you still remember? There I was in my black skirt and shirt, just above knee length that skirt was before we started, hip hugging and classy I thought, you told me it was sexy, that you loved the way it showed off my body. I must admit, that shirt wasn't a lot better really was it? I didn't realize just how low cut it was until you trailed your fingers along it. You didn't look too bad yourself I must say, almost too casual for the club dress code, but you carried it off well, it was a look that suited you. Your standard denim jeans, cut just right to show off that perfect ass, tight and wonderful. And a slightly off-white T-shirt, like you never quite washed it properly. That too looked like it was cut just for you, enhancing the natural beauty of your stomach and abs. You looked spectacular under the flashing lights (and just as brilliant away from them.) Your dark hair, long enough for me to run my fingers through, but short enough to definitely be masculine, and your wide eyes. I couldn't tell what color they were under those lights. It was only when we left that I saw they were a dark blue. They were using the smoke machine that night, so the air was thick with mist and the smell of heated bodies. Too many people packed into one small space, all forgetting, all hunting for someone to spend the night with. I wasn't really expecting to go home with anyone that night, just goes to show that sometimes you need to stop looking before you can find what you want. But back to us, you were pressed tight against me, mirroring my moves, keeping yourself in line with me. I could feel you through my skirt, it didn't really offer me all that much resistance. Our bodies moving together in one fluid motion, you never said a word, but then again I guess neither did I. Our bodies seemed to fit so well together that night, do you remember? My ass pressing back into you, you felt so good right there against me, so natural. There were people knocking us around as they fought for a space on the dance floor, but we just didn't seem to care. In fact, it just put us closer together. When I spun around to face, you pressing the front of our bodies together, I can only imagine what you saw in my eyes. You were hard against me, even through your jeans I could feel you, hitting just the right spots. I wanted you then, but it took me a few more songs to pluck up the courage to ask, instead we just played with each other. Your hands came down around my waist for a while, slipping up under my shirt, your thumbs coming to rest just under my breasts, stroking the material of my bra. Slowly moving upwards, ever so discreet, you tried not to draw attention to us. I kept grinding against you, feeling myself growing wetter by the minute, I didn't even know who you were, but that didn't matter in the slightest. I gasped slightly as your hands slid around my back, finding the clasp of my bra, undoing it easily. You smiled as you realized it was strapless and quickly drew it away from my body. I saw you tuck it into your pocket, I couldn't tell if anyone saw what you did, and at the time I just didn't care. You reached up under my shirt against, stroking and squeezing my freed breasts, finger tips finding my nipples, circling them gently, occasionally pinching lightly, making me moan softly, and press harder against you. My hand coming down between us, we were so close together I doubt anyone would have noticed, cupping your hardness through your jeans. You felt so good just like that, and I wanted more, I wanted to see you, taste you, have you inside me. "Fuck me?" I asked, standing up on tiptoes to whisper in your ear. At first I didn't think you had heard me, you just carried on as if nothing had happened, still playing with my breasts, my nipples hard as you flattened your palms against them. You pulled away and I thought I'd scared you off. That I had come onto strong that you didn't want me like I wanted you. But you only reached for my hand, still never saying a word, and you dragged me away from the crowded dance floor. Toward the back of the club we went, where there were less people, the music was quieter, and where we were less likely to get caught. There is always going to be a risk, isn't there? If you chose to fuck in public places, but it only added to the desire, the adrenaline running through me as you pressed me up against the back wall. Grinding your crotch against mine, looking down at me slightly, trapping me against that wall with your taller body. I could have melted right there before you. Your hand easily reached under my skirt, lifting it up, bunching it around my waist, giving you completely unhindered access to my soaking pussy. Not wanting to ruin the line of my skirt I'd left off my panties, not a ususal habit of mine, but it certainly made you smile as your fingers brushed against me, coming away slick with my juices. Your very first touch had me pressing forward against your fingers, I'd never wanted anyone like I wanted you right then. Was it the alcohol? Or the risk? Knowing that any one of the hundreds of people in the club that night could watch us, that we could get caught by the security team and thrown out. As your fingers slipped inside me it was all I could do to stay standing, you just smiled, you still hadn't said a word to me. I remember gasping as you pressed two fingers deep inside me, I was already so well lubricated for you, your thumb found my clit, gently teasing it while your free hand moved up under my shirt again. Pinching and stroking, always surprising me, alternating between breasts, I couldn't tell what you were going to do next. I must have said something or done something to tell you how close I was, your skilled fingers, and my own arousal quickly sped me toward orgasm, but you didn't stop. Even as I wrapped my arms around your shoulders, my nails digging into your back as you held me right on the edge of orgasm. I could feel my body shaking, but it wasn't quite enough and you laughed. "Cum for me." You whispered in my ear, your fingers curling up inside me and pressing hard, finally pushing me over the edge. That was the first thing you had said to me all night, and it turned me into a quivering mess in your arms, clinging onto you to avoid my knees giving way. My breathing was hard as I rested my head against your shoulder for a few moments. You gave me the time I needed, you were so patient that night, almost as if you were afraid of scaring me away. I was scared to keep you waiting, scared of wanting you as badly as I did. Once I'd caught my breath and trusted my knees again, I stood up unaided, deciding it was time to try and evoke a better reaction from you. You'd been so calm, the only sign that told me you were enjoying the experience was the obvious bulge in the front of your jeans. So with my skirt still wrapped up around my hips, it was too tight to fall back into place, I knelt on the sticky floor in front of you and slowly unzipped your jeans. Looking up at you, making sure my eyes never left yours I slowly let them fall down over your hips, your hands came to rest on my head, freeing my hair from its pony tail so you could run your fingers through it. I smiled up at you as I stroked and squeezed you through your underwear, leaning in to press my cheek against it, nudging against it, getting used to the feel of it against my skin, even if it was through the material. You gasped, and I felt you tense slightly, the first outward sign of anything all night, so I kept going. Carefully easing your underwear down and over you, freeing your erection, my hand wrapping around it. I was trying to gauge the size, automatically comparing you to my last partner. You left him in the dark completely, my stomach tightened with anticipation, I couldn't wait to have you inside me, but I knew I must, I needed to know you wanted it to. Your grip tightened in my hair slightly, pushing my head forward a little, silently telling me to hurry up, and I was more than willing to oblige. Teasingly I leant in, you must have been able to feel my breath against your hardness, tickling warmth against it, before my lips brushed against the head. The lightest of touches, a mere kiss before I pulled away again, my hands cupping your balls, caressing and teasing. Slowly I lowered my head against, licking this time, still feather light, determined to tease, I licked from tip to base and back up again, not missing an inch, loving the feel of you, and the way you gripped my hair trying to urge me on. At least now I knew you wanted me too. As I reached the head again, I parted my lips, taking you into my mouth, one hand still caressing your balls, the other wrapping around what remained outside of my mouth as I gently drew more of you into me. Licking and sucking gently, increasing the pressure slightly as you involuntarily thrust your hips forward, still my eyes never left yours. Did you like that? Looking into my eyes as I sucked on you? The way my mouth stretched around you, determined to please you? Really, I don't need to ask, I know you did. Your soft moans and the way you pushed my head forward, making me take you deeper was enough of a sign. Do you remember? Do you remember the girl who stood and watched? You had your back to her, but I saw her, she looked lonely, and waved at me slightly. I smiled, you thought I was smiling at you, I was partly, but she looked to be enjoying our show. I watched as her nipples hardened under her thin white top, clear as day they were, two dark circles under that tiny top. I just let her watch, you needed my attention more than she did. I don't know how long I knelt on that floor in front of you, I guess time became irrelevant, I just wanted to please you. I must have succeeded, and I got my reward as you came in my mouth, watching me intently as I swallowed every last drop for you. Taking my time after you'd finished, making sure to clean you up, making you hard again, I wanted you inside me. The only question was, would you be willing to take the risk? Would you do it, here, in a crowded night club? I stood up slowly watching your face for a sign, you were good at hiding your thoughts, your face was almost blank. I didn't think you would go through with it as you reached down and tugged my skirt down slightly, offering me some cover. But suddenly you roughly pulled me close to you, your lips found mine and our tongues battled, I was almost convinced I would have bruises in the morning, your hand gripped my upper arm so tightly. You growled low in your throat as I bit on your bottom lip, and you pushed me up against the wall once more. "You want me to fuck you?" You asked me. "Right here and now, in front of these people, who could see us at any minute?" There was a dangerous edge to your voice, a menacing tone, that when combined with your hands on my breasts again only made my want greater. "Oh hell yes." I told you, reaching down and wrapping my hand around you, once again, hard cock, guiding you toward me. Brushing your hardness against me I felt you swell in my hand and myself grow wetter. "As you wish." You whispered in my ear as you drove yourself into me without a second thought or a warning. Slamming me back against the wall, driving up deep inside me over and over again, as I wrapped my arms around your neck to hold on and stop my head hitting the brick behind me. It didn't take us long to attract a bit of a crowd, we were hardly being subtle anymore. I think we were both too caught up in what we were doing to care really, but it was exciting to see the men watching, seeing the way they responded. Our small audience did their best not to attract attention to us, they were discreet, wanting to avoid a scene where we would get caught by security, thrown out and barred. I couldn't care less, you felt so right inside me. As I said earlier, you'd put my ex-boyfriend to shame, you're longer, thicker than he was, and you were stretching me, filling me right up. Did it feel good to you? Do you remember the way my pussy clamped around your cock, gripping it tight as you thrust into me again and again. You had one hand against the wall for support, the other cradling my head, stroking my hair as you kissed me, fierce and possessive, like you knew about the people watching and wanted them to know I was yours, to show them how to do this properly. And you were good, very good. After your first few minutes of hard thrusting, you slowed the pace slightly, taking more time to hold me, tell me how you felt, how I felt wrapped around you. Kissing me, teasing my breasts, even letting your hand wander to my clit from time to time. Delightfully speeding me toward orgasm, and from the look on your face and your erratic thrusting it was clear to me you were getting close too. I could feel my pussy clamping around you, all my inner muscles contracting and jerking as you pushed yourself in and out of me. Do you remember how I felt? You came first, your hot seed spilling inside me, but you kept going, fingertips on my clit, you wanted me to cum as well, you weren't going to stop until I did. It didn't take long. I raked my nails down your back that night, if you hadn't been wearing that T-shirt I would have broken skin and drawn blood. You held me tight, supporting yourself against the wall with one arm, pinning me against it as my legs shook, and we both trembled in mutual delight. You were everything I wanted you to be that night, and as we both finally gained a greater sense of reality as our orgasms waned we both had the sense to straighten our clothes. Still panting we together turned to face the small crowd that had gathered. Do You Remember? It was the time of year Mother Nature breaks out her pallet of colors and repaints the Ohio landscape in brilliant Technicolor. A time of year that brings out the crispness of a fading year—summer is gone—winter's just around the corner. She wrapped her hand around his arm, and he pulled her closer as they walked down a quiet gravel road. A slow meandering river bubbled and gurgled as they walked by. Its water muddy from the slit it carried. "It's nice out today isn't?" he asked. "Yes, reminds me of years gone by." Do you remember? "Our first date?" she asked. "Oh hell yes. I sure do. Damn that was something. I recall it was about this time of year, too. It was our homecoming football game. Yeah, that's right. And of course we lost as usual. "Todd Candle and I picked you up. I was just sixteen and couldn't drive yet. It was our first date all right. I got in the front seat with Todd and left you sitting in the backseat by yourself. Todd looked at me as though I was from another planet. He had to remind me to go sit back there with you. Oh God. That was a night," he said. "I don't know how you managed to talk Miss Bailey into giving me the largest flower for my corsage. I remember you were afraid to pin it on me," she said. "You were afraid to touch me. I also recall your leaving me sit up there in the stands by myself while you took photos of the football game for the yearbook." "Yeah, that's true. But, you know at the time photography was my main interest. I thought I'd make a good living shooting film. I always wanted to be a National Geographic photographer. Travel around the world, visiting dangerous places, taking risks to get the perfect shot." He shook his head slightly in disgust with his lack of ambition. Photography was something he always wanted to do. "Oh well, guess that dream didn't come true did it?" he said. "No, but you got me instead," she said. "Not a bad trade I suppose." They stopped in the middle of the road and looked each other in the eyes. "You know you're just as beautiful now as you were in 1975," he said. Do you remember? "Our first kiss?" he asked. "Sure. We were at Molly's party. Your dad picked me up, this time you got into the back seat with me. I recall you tried and tried to kiss me at the party, and I wouldn't let you. I'd never kissed a boy before, let alone in front of a group of my friends. I wasn't sure I'd like it. Heck I wasn't even sure how you did it." "If nothing else, you can't say I wasn't persistent." "I'll give you that," she said. "I gave up at the party. But then, when my dad dropped you off at your place and I walked you to your door, there in the shadows under the grape arbor you kissed me," he said. "I did, didn't I?" "It was something like this?" He placed his hands around her face and ever so gently placed a warm kiss on her lips. "I don't remember it being quite like that. It was much quicker, and a little bit sloppy." "I got better though." "You sure did. Henry, you were a good kisser. Your kisses got me in a lot of trouble." "Like when, Helen?" Do you remember? "That old car of yours?" Helen asked. "Oh God yes, a 1964 American Rambler, but what's that got to do with kissing you?" "That old Rambler you drove took us to so many places. It seemed you always managed to relive me of most of my clothes. I sat many a night in the drive-in undressed in the dark. We used to neck in your parents' driveway at night, and before too long my shirt and bra would be on the back seat. Good thing you lived in the country. Many a night the only thing that kept me from being totally naked in your car was a pair of very wet panties and my pantyhose." "I remember you were the first girl that allowed me to take her shirt off. Those bra clasps are nearly impossible to undo when you're never done it before. I damn near died when I lowered your bra from your breasts for the first time. But oh, your breasts were so soft, so warm, and so tender. I can still remember how they just felt so perfect in my hand. I'd never touched a breast before yet alone kissed one. Ah, Jesus your nipples grew hard and red in my fingers. I thought I would explode in my pants—" "You did. All over the front of my skirt." "No I didn't." "You sure did. I had to walk into my house with my sweater wrapped around my waist to hide the stain. I had to wash my skirt in the bathroom sink so mom didn't see it. "You were the first boy, and I might add the only boy since, whose cock I've ever touched. It was something we girls would giggle about in gym class. I'd hear the bad girls, you know the loose ones, talk about it, but never thought I'd touch one. Holding that hard cock in my hand, I just couldn't imagine how that was going to fit inside me. "I guess the best part of it was knowing I was the one that made that pecker of yours rock hard. I could do it to you just by raising my skirt up. I'd let you slide you hand up under my skirt when we'd go out to dinner. A few minutes later you were shifting about in your chair. I knew I had that cock of yours hard. Those days were fun. Oh that old Rambler..." Helen said. Henry dropped his hand down onto Helen's butt and gave it a slight pinch. "I always wondered why you never put up much of a fight when we went to the drive in. I always thought you enjoyed yourself as much as I did, maybe even more so. Damn, we surely did steam up the windows in that old car didn't we? "Ah yeah, the Rambler. My dad painted it big bad green in my grandfather's chicken coop. He never painted a car in his life. Hell he even painted the wheels and the tires that damn green color. Took me a week to get the paint off the tires. The damn thing looked like a ripening lemon when it went down the street. As a matter of fact, your sister called it the ripening Rambler. May it rest in peace. They walked a bit more in silence. The only noise was the loose gravel under their shoes. Henry held her hand tighter. "We're getting old you know?" he said. "Yeah, I guess so. A lot more aches and pains now. But, it wasn't that long ago," Helen said, "I use to be a 34B and now I'm a 36 long. I've added a few more pounds here and there, too" "Never heard any complaints from me have you?" "Nary a one." Do you remember? "Going to the Brown Derby and watching the guys trying to dance like John Travolta?" Helen asked. "The Brown Derby inside the Marriot was the better of the two," Henry said, "The dance floor had the lights under your feet. Besides, I thought the food was better there, too." "You always remember the food don't you?" "I remember that super-short-green-silky-knit outfit I got for you at the time. God, seeing you in that made my dick harder than a bag full of jawbreakers. I'm surprised your dad let you out of the house with that on." "Jesus that was short wasn't it? Heck, it was barely long enough to cover my butt—" "Oh yeah that was great. I didn't have to worry about pushing that skirt up your thighs, it was already there when you sat down," Henry added. "And then you brought me the green pantyhose to match it. I don't know what you were thinking at the time, but I ended up looking like an intergalactic cheer leader." "Perhaps, but only the first time and only with the green hose. It seems to me that outfit always found itself on the back seat of the Rambler anyway," Henry said. "That it did. Along with my bra, hose, and sometimes even my panties. You know if we would have gotten caught my dad would have killed us both." "I know. That's why I asked him about you out in the garden one late evening." Helen stopped and tugged on Henry's arm. "What did you ask? You never mentioned this before?" "I asked him for his permission to marry you. I didn't want to get shot incase he thought I wasn't good enough for his daughter." "Dad always did have a way of reading people. He made a good decision didn't he?" Henry ran his hand down Helen's back and they slowed their walk down the road a few steps at a time. They could hear the water from the river rippling as the water broke over the rocks. Do you remember? "Wearing those short shorts? Henry asked. "You mean hot pants. Oh yeah... Dancing to the sounds of 'How deep is your love' by the Bee Gees while wearing white, hot pants, coffee colored pantyhose, platform shoes, and with my butt cheeks hanging out those pants—oh, and you had long sideburns, too. You looked like Cornelius from the Planets of the Apes. I sure wish we had some photographs of us back then, Helen said. Henry started to quietly sing, 'I know your eyes in the morning sun. I feel you touch me in the pouring rain. And the moment that you wander far from me, I wanna feel you in my arms again.' Helen stopped in her tracks. "Henry. You surprise me. You remember the words of that song from so many years ago?" "I remember falling in love with you at that moment. We've never been apart since." "Henry...you're going to make me cry." "I miss the miniskirts back then, too," Henry said as he wiped a tear from her cheek with is thumb. "Figures. I've long since gotten too old for those. You know that." "I'll be the judge of that," Henry said. Do you remember? "The night I picked you up at your first job. You had to wear a short skirt and black heels just to work at that pharmacy. Boy you were pissed." "That was stupid. I think the owner had a thing for young woman in skirts." "I had a good time that night," Henry said. "I know. I know. We found ourselves alone in the family room at your parents' house. Before the night was done, you had me absolutely butt naked and laying on some blankets on the floor. You were the first boy that ever got all my clothes off. Even in the driveway of your parent's house I always managed to keep something on. But not that night. I was excited, scared, and somewhat eager. God, if your parents would have just come down stairs," Helen said. "What else do you remember about that night?" Henry asked. "If I recall, you really had a good time. But, I guess it was those kisses of yours. I've never had my breasts kissed like that before. It was really odd to see how just being kissed would pop my nipples out, making them red and swollen just begging for more of you. "Then you put your head between my legs, I wasn't sure what you were doing down there, then you gave me my first orgasm—" "You weren't sure. Hell I had no idea what I was supposed to do either. Other than reading my old man's Penthouse magazines and the forum letters, I didn't have a clue," Henry added. Helen smiled. "We both thought something broke when I left such a large wet spot on the blanket. My mom never told me about such things." "I know damn sure she didn't tell you to jack me off on your boobs either." Henry could see Helen's face turn red. "You know back then, we didn't have the information like Jordan had when she was in school," Helen said. "True," Henry said. "I don't remember you refusing your first blow job either," Helen said. "I can still see that cock of yours. It was the largest cock I've ever seen." "You told me mine was the only one you've ever saw?" "It was, but just like you boys, we girls talked, too. Besides, there was always Julie's Playgirl magazines." "You enjoyed it didn't you?" Henry asked. "Yeah, I did. I like to watch you squirm and moan when you're about to let go of your load." Helen slipped her hand into his arm as they walked along the riverbank. She smiled then raised a brow. She wondered why she was so blessed with a husband like Henry. How it seemed all her girlfriends had divorced or where just living a lie with cheating husbands. How many wives have cheated on their husbands? She pulled herself in toward Henry. "Mom always said that sex was dirty and good girls didn't do it except for having babies. I've always enjoyed making out with you. Still do as a matter of fact. Sex with you has always been fun." "The only problem now is being interrupted by a grandchild," Henry said. Do you remember? "Our wedding?" Henry asked. "The guys at the shop would tease me when I told them I was getting married. They said 'Why buy the cow when you get the milk for free?' "What woman couldn't possibly forget her wedding day? It was picture perfect. A small white church in the country filled with all our families. I just didn't believe any woman on the planet could have been as happy as I was that day. You know, Henry, I married a good man. They're hard to come by nowadays." "I didn't make out too badly in the deal either. It's been thirty-five years and we're still in love. Can't beat that," Henry said. Do you remember? "How we didn't know what to do on our wedding night," Helen said. "Yeah, if that wasn't embarrassing. You would have thought after we both came so close to having sex all those times that we didn't know what to do," Henry said. "I think we were both afraid," Helen said, "I couldn't tell mom I wanted to go on the pill and you just couldn't buy condoms in the Walmart as you can today. "I know I was damn afraid of your dad. If I got you pregnant before we were married, they'd still be looking for my body." "Your dad was the same way. I remember him saying he wouldn't raise a bastard grandkid." "He always had a way with words didn't he?" "Then on our wedding night we both got naked, both got hot, and horny, and then we couldn't get the parts to fit," Henry said, "Tab 'A' just had to go inside slot 'B.'" Helen laughed. "It was fun trying," she said, "and we managed to figure it out." "I know that book we brought didn't help a lick." "You mean The Joy of Sex?" "Yeah, that's it. Christ, you'd have to be a contortionist to fuck as they showed in that book." "It was just a guide honey, not a how to book," Helen said. She wrapped her arms around his waist as they walked. Do you remember? "Our first car we brought together?" Henry asked. "The yellow Vega," Helen said. "Yeah, remember you called it the 'Flintstone' car because you could use your feet to make it go 'cause the floor had rusted out." "Why did we buy that in the first place?" Helen asked. "Because of the oil embargo and the price of gas went through the roof. I remember it hit almost a buck a gallon back then. "We got it at the Chevy dealership in Navarre. You told the guy all we had was twelve hundred bucks for a car. He said that was the exact price they wanted—" "That was stupid wasn't it?" Helen said. "It wasn't the brightest thing we ever did together. But we learned quickly. You know when it was rainy out you could sit beside that car and hear the rust eat it away." Do you remember? "Our daughter being born," Helen asked. "Saturday morning. It was a Saturday morning when your water broke, and I rushed you to the hospital. It had to be about ten as the Smurfs were on TV. The woman in the next room was in labor and was screaming and moaning. Your face was as blue as Poppa Smurf. The woman next to us wanted to go natural, and I recall how glad you were when the anesthesiologist came in there to give you your epidural. "Damn did she ever scream? It seems like yesterday. You missed the birth though." "I know. That's a regret I'll never be able to undo. I wasn't really my fault. The doctor told me that you'd deliver around seven that night and that I could go home. Instead, I went to pay our Montgomery Ward bill and decided to see how you were doing on the way back. I just walked onto the floor when I heard you tell our child 'welcome to the world.' You know that still hurts me. "Ten pounds three ounces. Proud as hell of our daughter Jordan," Henry said. "She's been a good daughter. A bit rambunctious at times and a bit boy crazy, but a fine daughter non the less," Helen said. Do you remember? "Telling Jordan when she turned sixteen she'd be double dating for two years?" Henry asked. "Yes I do. And you damn near made her cry when you told her it was you and I that she would double date with," Helen said. "Good thing they quit making Ramblers. I didn't want our daughter necking in the back seat with some guy running his hands all over her body." "The very same way your hands touched me?" Helen asked. "That was different." Helen smiled back at Henry. "It's no different now than it was back in our day." The road seemed to disappear into the woods. Henry stopped, but Helen took a few more steps. "Where're you going?" Henry asked. Helen looked over her shoulder then back at Henry. "I don't know, honey. I feel like I'm just a pebble trapped along the riverbank, held up by the current." Helen turned her head and watched the water slowly flow by. "The river of time moves continually; it never stops. It won't stop for me or for you." Henry stood unable to move. His feet seemed to be frozen to the ground. Helen took a few more steps, and he held her hands until their fingertips were just touching. "Helen, this afternoon, I didn't give you a good bye kiss. I didn't get to tell you I love you..." "Henry... you just did." Helen moved toward the woods, and she seemed to disappear like fairy dust in a windstorm. Henry stood and watched her fade into the emptiness. "Helen? Helen?" Henry called out... "Dad? Dad? Come on dad. You need to sign these papers." "Jordan...I ah...must have...Where's mom?" "Oh God, Dad, don't make this any more difficult than it already is. Mom's gone—" "No she's not. I was just walking with her. We were talking. Reminiscing. "Dad, look around you. You're in a hospital. Mom died in a car accident just a short while ago. They said she never knew what hit her. The doctors need your signature on the organ donor papers. They don't have much time left." Jordan's eyes were red and swollen with tears. "Dad, they need to harvest mom's organs. You've been sitting her beside her now for half an hour. Come on dad. I'm barely able to hold myself together. Mom's gone." The old man looked over his shoulder and saw his wife of thirty-five years lying in the bed next to him. A machine was whirling and pumping fluids through her motionless body. He looked up at his daughter. "No!" Henry said. "No!" His fists clinched tight. He pounded them on the edge of her bed. "What, why?" he asked. "The police said someone drove up the wrong way on the exit ramp, Dad. He hit her head on. She died instantly. Dad, I told you this already today. Don't you remember?" "No..." he said as he looked into his daughter's tear filled eyes. Jordan handed the paper to her dad. "You've got to sign these. They won't do her any good now. Someone else perhaps but not Mom." Henry shook as he signed his name to the paper. He stood and touched her cold hand. A single tear meandered down his face, wrinkled and cracked from age and hard work, and it fell onto her hand. He wiped his tear from her hand with his thumb then gave her fingers a warm squeeze. He lowered his face and kissed her lips one last time. Henry ran his fingers through her hair and smiled. Then he whispered into her ear. "I remember... Helen... I remember..."