By Strickland83
We arrived at the home of my parents late that night. Laura had already fallen asleep but I couldn�t sleep on the drive, tortured by my guilty memories. Getting out and hugging my parents was a welcome relief.
We were back where I had grown up, inside familiar walls. I had been a child here, grown up to womanhood, gone off to school, and met Tim. That last thought made me feel an icy grip on my heart. The visit to that camp had been torture for me, a torture I couldn�t escape. Finally seeing that place was almost too much to bear. All these years, I had kept the secret, the old vow. Now I felt a need burning inside me to confess.
I made it through the night, trying to stop myself from tossing and turning so I wouldn�t wake Tim. It was strange sleeping in my old bed with him. All those years being good, trying to stay chaste until marriage, to now be back in my room, in my bed, with a man. My man.
It wasn�t that I doubted Tim would still love me. We had something really special. In many ways, our love for each other was better than our friends had in their marriages. I knew Tim loved me as much as I loved him. I just worried how he would react to my confession.
I drew in a deep breath and came to the decision. Tomorrow. Actually, it was today. The sky was just beginning to tint with the impending dawn. I would face my demon, for good or bad. In a way, I was relieved once I had made the decision.
After breakfast, I cornered my mother in the kitchen while Tim and my dad were taking Laura out to see the cows.
�What�s bothering you, dear?� my mother asked.
She used that tone. I knew she knew something was wrong. There was no denying it. She knew me too well. I tried to steel myself. If I started to cry, I was afraid I wouldn�t be able to pull this off.
�Mom, I need to take Tim out for a talk, just the two of us. I was thinking of a picnic over the hill. Can you take care of Laura for a few hours?�
My mother was listening to me as she peeled potatoes at the sink. She smiled and nodded.
�We can bake cookies for after dinner,� she said, never questioning what the problem was. God bless you, Mom.
�There�s some sandwich stuff in the fridge, and some fruit. Do you want to bring a bottle of wine?� she offered.
I nodded before going down to the basement to retrieve the big wicker picnic basket. It was old and dusty now, not as I remembered it fresher and newer from my childhood.
Back in the kitchen, I wiped off the dust. Mom was already starting to make sandwiches. She knew me so well, knew both of us so well. She was trimming the crusts off my bread, and putting provolone cheese on Tim�s sandwich. I smiled at that. She knew my husband almost as well as I knew him.
We were just about finished when I looked through the window over the sink and saw the men returning, each holding one of Laura�s hands and gently swinging her between them. She was giggling with delight. They came in and Laura was bursting with things to tell me. Mom stopped her and told her to go wash her hands first.
Tim saw the picnic basket and raised an eyebrow at me in silent question. I swallowed hard and tried to keep my voice steady, but I was starting to sweat.
�I thought you and I would go on a picnic for lunch. A little alone time,� I said, managing to keep my voice under control.
�Just the two of us?� he asked as he saw the bottle of white Zinfandel sticking out of the basket.
I managed a smile as I said, �Yeah, just the two of us. Mom�s going to keep Laura and they�re going to bake cookies while we�re gone.�
Tim walked over and put his arms around my waist, sneaking in a kiss just below my earlobe, the way I really liked. I felt my heart race at the touch of his lips.
�Sounds romantic,� he whispered.
God, I hope he still thinks so later.
Mom convinced Laura that baking cookies would be better than a picnic so she didn�t mind that we weren�t taking her along. Dad had wandered off to do one of those things that always seemed to need doing on a farm.
Tim picked up the basket and took my hand.
�See you later this afternoon,� he told Mom.
He bent down and gave Laura a kiss as he passed her, already hard at work at the table.
�Be good for Grandma,� he told her.
�I�ll make a special cookie for you, Daddy. Heart shaped.�
Then we were gone. The back door closed behind us with finality. I had closed the door on the secrecy. Ahead of us, a glorious day beckoned. It was about a ten minute walk to the spot I had in mind and in that time I felt like I aged ten years. Tim, bless him, didn�t ask what was on my mind though I knew he could tell something was bothering me.
When we crested the hill, we passed out of sight of the house. There was a pasture ahead of us and not a person in sight. In the distance, a few cows had gathered around a tree. Our destination was another shady spot, this one just above the stream that ran though the pasture. I used to come here to think when I was a teenager. It was where I had tried to work through all the angst that goes along with growing up. I had spent many lazy afternoons out here, with a book or just my thoughts for company.
I stopped beneath the old tree. Tim, taking the cue from me, put the basket down. I opened it and took out the ancient red checkered blanket. I spread it out and knelt. Opening the basket, I started taking things out and arranging them. I needed to arrange things. When the basket was empty, I finally looked up to see Tim watching me.
�What�s wrong?� he finally asked. �Did I do something to upset you?�
His tenderness, his concern that he had caused my pain, broke through my fa�ade. As I tried to say, �No, of course not,� the dam holding back the tears finally gave way.
�Darling, what did I�� he started to ask but I stopped him with a finger across his lips. He pursed his lips and kissed that finger. I felt so in love with him at that moment. I also felt so rotten inside.
�Tim,� I started, �I have to tell you something. Please just listen. I�ll explain it all. I should have told you this a long time ago. I�m sorry that I kept it from you for so long.�
I could tell by the look on his face that he desperately wanted to ask a question but he didn�t. He was waiting for me to speak. It was hurting me so much to see him so concerned. I was causing him pain over something I had done. I steeled myself for the next sentence as I took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and spoke. The words came out in a rush as I spoke too fast to let myself start crying and not be able to finish.
�I know all about Camp Kisatchie. All of it. I know about Patrice, and the canoe trips, Abby, skinny-dipping in the pool, and I know why that summer was so special for Patrice. I know you were her first.�
I looked at him, waiting for a reaction, an explosion. He was stunned. I could see the unspoken word How? forming on his lips but he waited for me to continue. He wasn�t angry. Of course he wasn�t. Our love was so strong. Strong enough even to weather this�I hoped. He was being so patient with me. I knew that I was in too deep to stop now so I began the story I had kept to myself for too many years.
In the fall of 1982, when I returned to school, my roommate had transferred to another school so I got a new one. She was my age, pretty and pleasant, and we quickly became good friends. She told me about her new boyfriend and I hung on every word. I didn�t have a boyfriend at that time, though I desperately wanted one. I was in love with the idea of being in love. She described him as the most wonderful, caring and sexiest guy in the world. As the semester progressed, however, I could tell that the distance was wearing on her and on the relationship. We talked about how she had worked at a summer camp and about her friend from the camp who had broken up with her boyfriend over the summer.
In the fall, I went on that trip for the competition and that is where I met my Prince Charming�the answer to my prayers. Torrid would not begin to describe the long weekend as I fell into his arms, already determined to meet that special someone. He was all that to me and so much more. I was in love almost from the first moment. I could tell that he was looking for something like that, too.
When I came back to school, I had a story to tell my roommate. We compared notes, as girls will do, even intimate ones. We shared our encounters and how special they were. We still hadn�t mentioned any names, feeling that keeping our lovers nameless made it alright to be talking about the sex. This went on for about two weeks as he and I exchanged letters, and I kept begging him to send a picture.
Then, there was that day when the picture came in the mail. I had gone down to check my post office box after my last class. When I saw the stiff envelope folded into the tiny box, my heart leapt. I tore it open right there and lovingly took out the photograph. I went right to the bookstore and bought a frame for it. Returning to my dorm room, I put it in the frame and set it on my desk. I was so silly, adjusting the position until I had a perfect view of it when I was lying in bed.
I was there, admiring the picture when she came in from her last class. She could see I was excited about something. I told her about the picture and pointed to it. She looked at it, wanting to share my excitement. Then, her expression changed. Her face fell. It was fear, or betrayal, or maybe hate�something very bad. She slowly sat down on her bed never taking her eyes off the picture of my new boyfriend.
�What�s wrong?� I asked with alarm, having no idea what could shake her up so much.
�It�s him,� she finally managed to say, fighting tears. �It�s Tim.�
Patrice put her face in her hands and cried. I still didn�t get it. I got up and sat next to her on her bed, putting my arm around her.
�Yes, it�s Tim, the guy I met in Louisiana,� I said, still clueless. Then, like a bolt of lighting, it hit me. �How did you know his name?�
�How do you think?� Patrice asked through tears and sobs. �He is my boyfriend, who I gave my virginity to,� she explained, unable to say anything more as she whimpered.
No! I wanted to shout, to scream. It can�t be! But I didn�t say anything. I just looked at the picture, the picture of my boyfriend, the picture of her boyfriend. I felt what it was like for dreams to be shattered. I felt my life unraveling.
�Patrice, I had no idea. He never said anything. I would have never��
�He wouldn�t have. I never told you, but I knew the distance thing wasn�t working out for us. I needed someone here, someone to hold me, touch me. As much as I didn�t want to admit it, I knew it was coming to an end. We were talking about that in our letters, but I never told you. I had built him up so much that I was ashamed to tell you my perfect love was falling to pieces.�
�But if I had known, I would never have done what I did,� I said, the reality of that last phrase weighing heavily on my heart.
I had done those things, and I couldn�t take them back. I don�t think it would have mattered even if I had known. I was in love with that guy. I had found my perfect someone.
At the same time, I felt like I was taking something precious from my best friend. I hadn�t known Patrice all that long, I reasoned. I had known Tim for even less time. But I was in love with Tim.
Patrice finally lifted her head to speak.
�What should we do?� she asked me.
I knew what was the right thing to do, but I didn�t want to do that. I wanted Tim.
�What do you mean?� I answered with another question.
She grimaced as she said, �I mean about Tim. Who gets him?�
I felt a pang in my stomach. It wasn�t the honorable thing to do, but I said it.
�I thought you said your relationship was coming apart. Do you still want him?�
There. I did it. This wasn�t a ball on the playground that we were arguing over. It was love. Patrice gave a very deep sigh.
�I still love him, but I just can�t see us surviving. As much as I want him, I want what�s best for him. Do you think you could make it work? The two of you?�
Was she really giving in that easily? I wondered. He was her first, after all. I knew how she felt about that. All girls felt that way about the first person they made love with. I still remembered my first time. I wasn�t in love with him anymore, but I�d always feel love for him. I thought about that. True, my first time was a few years ago, not a few months ago. If I really wanted Tim, I�d have to be assertive even if it hurt Patrice. And I wanted Tim. God, how I wanted Tim!
�Yes.�
There, I said it. I staked my claim. I marked my territory.
�I expected you to say that,� she responded without emotion. Saying it that way actually conveyed emotion. Emotion I didn�t want to hear.
That made me feel guilty. She was right, of course. When someone points out your fault and you know they�re right, it hurts even more. I didn�t know how to respond to her. Fortunately, I didn�t have to.
�I wanted this to work,� she said, morosely. �I wanted us to last, I wanted to marry him and have his children. I wanted it all. Being at this school sucks!�
Her last words rang in an echo against the painted cinderblock walls. I wasn�t sure if she was giving up or just getting ready to fight. I waited.
�He�s a wonderful guy, but you know that, after your weekend.�
Patrice sounded almost spiteful that time.
�I had him for the whole summer.�
After saying that, she studied the picture intently.
�I can�t believe we both fell for the same guy,� she said softly. Then, �Yes, I can. He�s perfect. He�s funny, caring, sensitive, loving, and so fine.�
Forgetting my fear, I spoke up before I even realized I voiced that thought out loud.
�He has the cutest bubble butt.�
Patrice smiled at my comment and nodded.
�And he can eat pussy to make your toes curl,� she added.
We continued like we had before, comparing boyfriends. Only, this time, we knew we were comparing the same boyfriend. We listed all of his good qualities, all of his prowess in bed. We covered him from head to toe. It was almost surreal. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Patrice seemed almost ethereal, like she wasn�t really there or she was discussing a fictional character. None of it seemed real. Well, nothing except the picture staring back at us.
After dinner, we were back in the room discussing Tim. We never reached a decision. After the light was turned out, we kept on talking in the dark until we fell asleep.
In the morning when I woke up, the thoughts of the previous afternoon came rushing back to me. I looked at the picture I had so carefully placed on the desk. Tim�s face was smiling back at me. When I had opened the envelope, I was so happy. Now, I wasn�t sure. Was I stealing Patrice�s boyfriend?
I lay in that state between sleep and awake, reliving the weekend we had met. A smile delicately brushed my face as I remembered how we met. How he watched me from the side as we both ordered at the Burger King counter. When he heard me order and say to someone with me that I loved extra ketchup, he changed his order. He told that cashier that if it was good enough for me, it was worth trying.
I gave him a smile and a raised eyebrow. When we took our seats, he guided his friends to the booth opposite ours, sitting where he could watch me. I kept looking up shyly at him. Finally, after what felt like years, he came over and introduced himself. I just about melted. He asked if he could sit next to me and I couldn�t think how to respond. When he asked if that was a no, I came to my senses and scooted over, patting the seat next to me. He sat down, the smell of his aftershave making my heart pound.
�Fran, you awake?� Patrice called softly.
�Yes,� I answered.
Patrice was quiet. She got up and went to the bathroom. When she came back, she sat on her bed and looked first at Tim�s picture then at me.
�You�re right. I can�t make this long distance thing work. I need more. I need a boyfriend who is here. If you think you can make him happy, then you should try.�
Her tone was even, without inflection. It was like a judge delivering a death sentence.
I had what I wanted but now I only felt worse. All I could think about was how I was taking away her dream. She had been telling me about her boyfriend for months. I had listened eagerly about how wonderful he was and I had wished I�d meet someone like him someday. Now I had. Why didn�t I feel good about that?
�Are you giving up?� I asked Patrice.
�I don�t think that�s what I�m doing. I think it�s already over. I want the best for Tim. If I can�t give it to him, I want someone else to.�
Patrice�s words shocked me. I was overjoyed that she was willing to step aside and not be any competition to me, that I had a clear shot at Tim, but I still felt wrong about it. I felt like I was taking advantage of her. My silence as I thought that over spurred her to continue.
�Do you realize what I�m saying? I�m giving up. Tim is all yours.�
�Patrice, I�hell, I�m not sure what I want.�
�Don�t you want him?� she asked, a little agitated.
�Of course I do. He�s wonderful, he�s handsome, loving� but then you know all that,� I said.
�Yes, I do. And I really want you to have him.�
She was really giving up without a fight. I wasn�t sure what to do. Have you ever gotten exactly what you wanted and felt terrible about it?
�Aren�t you happy, Fran?� Patrice asked me, sounding concerned now.
�Yes. I think I am. I�m glad about Tim, but I feel like I�m stealing something from you.�
�So what should we do? Arm wrestle for him?� Patrice asked, and she laughed.
I laughed too, but uneasily. This wasn�t right. It felt all wrong somehow.
�I�m confused. You have been talking about how much you loved Tim, and now you�re willing to step aside and let me have him. What is this all about?�
�Isn�t that what you want?� she asked. �Don�t you want Tim?�
�Of course, but it sounded like you two had something really special.�
�Look, I�m trying to give you what you want. Do the honorable thing and all that shit. The long distance thing isn�t working out for us so I want you to try. He is a really special guy and he deserves someone who can love him and make it work. I�m doing it for him as much as for you,� she explained.
I should have said something. I should have offered to back out. I just couldn�t, though. I had been looking for someone like Tim and when I found him, I just couldn�t let go. I held on, even though it felt wrong. I let my heart guide my actions instead of my head. I ignored what Patrice was doing. I didn�t question her. I guess I was afraid she�d change her mind.
Patrice began planning our strategy. It was a little weird how she suddenly seemed so detached from the guy who held her heart just a few days ago, the guy she had willingly surrendered her virginity to only a few months before.
�I�ll write him and tell him that it is just not working out for us. I�ll let him off the hook so he will feel free to pursue you.�
�Do you think that will work?� I asked, hopefully. I wanted Tim so desperately that I was overlooking things that should have put up alarms.
�He knows how difficult long distance relationships are. He has been hinting in his letters that it isn�t going to work for us. I�ve been ignoring it, but now I�ll write back and agree. If I have to, I�ll even tell him that I met someone else.�
Then Patrice looked very serious. She leaned forward and spoke directly to my face. �You have to make this work. I want your solemn promise that you will do whatever you have to so Tim is happy. Will you do that for me?�
I thought about her words. I didn�t think about what her real motive would be. I didn�t want to try to figure it out. I just wanted Tim.
�Yes, I promise,� I whispered.
�Say it,� she practically ordered.
�I give you my word that I will do whatever I have to do to make this work.�
That seemed to satisfy her. She looked almost relieved that she had just agreed to break up with Tim. But there was more.
�Tim must never know about our agreement. You can�t ever tell him. Not that you know about me, or that you even know he was dating someone else when he met you. That�s part of the bargain. Alright?�
I was so far into this that I blindly agreed, not wanting to take a chance of losing the guy I had found. I nodded.
�You�re a lucky girl, Fran. Don�t ever forget that.�
I guess looking back that I should have felt like I had just made a deal with the devil. I didn�t realize at the time how hard it would be to keep that promise. It hurts to keep something like that from the person I love so deeply. As the years progressed, it became harder but also more difficult to explain why I hadn�t said something earlier.
I was coming back from class a maybe a week or two later when Miriam, the RA on my floor, stopped me as I passed her room.
�Fran, we need to talk.�
�What�s the matter?� I asked. I couldn�t recall any rules I had broken lately.
�Patrice moved out. She found a new roommate in another dorm.�
�What? She�s gone already? Did she say why?�
�No, I was hoping you could tell me something. Did you two have a fight or something?�
�Not that I can think of,� I lied, the first of many.
�I�ll look for a roommate for you, but for now you�re alone.�
I walked back to my room in a daze. When I opened the door, I felt the shock all over again as I saw that Patrice�s side of the room was entirely bare. It was as if she had never been there.
I tried tracking her down, tried talking to her. She avoided me. Eventually, my attempts to get in touch with her earned me a card in the mail from her. It said simply, �Remember your promise.� Nothing more.
I stopped trying to talk to her after that. Eventually, I heard that she transferred to another university and I lost touch with her. I pursued my relationship with Tim, as much for myself as to honor my promise to Patrice.
I was blinking back tears as I drew myself back to the present, to my husband, to Tim.
�I�m so sorry. I�m sorry I kept that from you all those years. At first, I felt I had to do it to keep you. After that, I couldn�t imagine how I�d explain not telling you sooner. Then, yesterday, when you stopped at that camp, it all came back. It was overwhelming, facing those ghosts from my past, from our past. I feel like our love is based on lies. You have to believe me, Tim. I always loved you from the very first time we met.�
Then I broke down into sobs. I had done it. After all those years, I had finally broken my vow of silence and come clean. I had no idea how my husband would react and that thought terrified me to my very soul. My greatest fear was to lose Tim. To lose him to that memory of Patrice which I took from him. We had a wonderful, loving life together. I didn�t want to lose that� and I didn�t want to take that away from Tim. Yet, I knew I deserved whatever happened next.
Tim, that wonderful man, had sat there quietly listening. He had let me speak, confess my deepest darkest sin. He didn�t interrupt. Now it was his turn to speak. I thought it would actually be a relief if he yelled at me.
�I�m stunned,� he started. My heart pounded and I trembled as I waited to hear what he�d say next. �Honey, you�re trembling,� he said, putting his arms on my shoulders and pulling me to him. I never enjoyed his embrace so much as at that moment. I wondered if my confession would drive him away, if I�d ever feel his touch again, and he was hugging me. I sobbed uncontrollably, completely unable to speak, grateful for his touch yet feeling so undeserving of it.
�What�s the matter? Do you think that could make any difference in how much I love you? I�m shocked that you knew about all that and you never said anything.� He paused to think about something. �It says a lot about your character that you would keep a promise like that for so long.�
I had to try several times to get my crying under control enough to speak. �Can you forgive me?� I asked, not sure if he could even understand me through my tears.
�Forgive you? For what? For keeping a secret? For loving me enough to choose me over your friend? If that is what you want forgiveness for, then yes, my love. I forgive you� and I love you.�
I didn�t even try to speak. I was crying now out of relief. I just held onto him and cried. He, for his part, held me and that is just what I needed most at that moment.
In time, the tears dried up. I felt more in love with my husband than ever before. I also felt an immense sense of relief over finally telling him what I had kept from him ever since we had met. I guess I finally felt worthy, fully worthy, of his love. I can�t describe the feeling. I just wanted to hold him and be held.
I thought about where we were. I remembered a place not far from here, just inside the stand of trees, where I used to go as a girl to be alone.
�Tim?�
�Yes, dear,� he answered.
�Make love to me. Here, now.�
�Right here?� he asked, sounding a little surprised.
I finally loosened my grip on my husband enough to look at his face. I smiled, remembering the stories I had heard of things he had done with Patrice that summer.
�There is a place, just inside the trees, that is very private. No one can see us from there. Let�s go in there and make love. We can bring the blanket.�
Tim smiled. He looked delighted at my suggestion. �We�ve never done anything like that before.�
�I know. I wish we had. We can change that. Right now.�
In answer, he stood up and held out his hand. I took it and stood, the warm strong feeling of his touch burning a memory into my brain. He picked up the blanket and put it over his arm.
�Lead the way,� he said, grinning.
I wasn�t nervous. I was relieved. I felt freer than I had ever felt with him since that talk with Patrice. I led him to the special place I had not been to since I was a teenager. It was like we were trying to make up for the years when I could never let myself go completely with him.
The spot under the trees was just as I had remembered it. A few big trees concealed the spot from anyone on top of the hill. I spread out my arms and turned around. Tim took the hint and spread the blanket on the ground. I giggled like a carefree college student again as I undid the buttons on my sundress.
As a girl, I had done this a few times in the summer. In this private place, I had taken off my clothes and played naked in the outdoors. If my mother or, God forbid my father, had every caught me, I doubt I would have lived to marry Tim. In those times long ago, I sometimes dreamed about the man I would marry. I would think about how he�d hold me and my hand would drift lower, down there.
Lost in my reverie, my pace fell behind Tim�s. By the time I was letting my dress fall at my feet, Tim was removing his underwear. His erection was angling up from his body, a sight that never ceases to fascinate me. I hurried to catch up, a little embarrassed that he was stroking himself while he watched me remove my underwear. It�s funny to me that I am more ashamed by him watching me than by taking my clothes off out here.
As my panties joined the rest of my clothes on the ground, Tim pulled me into his arms. The hard warmth of his dick lodged itself between us, a feeling that made me feel like I was melting inside. Maybe I felt like I was melting because I started to feel it oozing out of my lips. I used to be bothered by that, but now that I know how much he likes to clean me up there with his tongue it doesn�t bother me anymore.
Even after giving birth to Laura, he still tells me I am beautiful. I am very aware of the changes in my body but he doesn�t seem to notice. Seeing the love in his eyes, especially on that day, made me so happy that I married him.
As he took me in his arms, he pulled me to him with such force that my breath was knocked from my lungs. I didn�t mind. The feel of his strength made me giddy with love� and lust. We kissed and he picked me up by my waist. With my feet off the ground he turned us around and I felt like I was flying. The breeze came along under the trees and blew through my hair, and I felt so in love with my husband.
I started crying because I was so relieved that he understood. He still loved me in spite of the secret that I kept from him all those years. He still loved me in spite of the fact that I took him away from Patrice. He stopped kissing me and asked me why I was crying.
I shook my head as I said, �It�s not important. I�m just so happy to be here with you.�
He laughed. �I�ll never understand that,� he said, �but I�m happy to be here, too.�
�Thank you, Tim. Thanks for understanding, for forgiving, and especially for loving me.�
�There is nothing to forgive. I am so glad things worked out this way. My life with you has made me the happiest man alive. I can�t imagine my life being this happy with anyone else.�
�Do you really mean that?� I asked him with tear-filled eyes.
�Yes, I do,� he said, and his words reminded me of our wedding day.
�Make love to me, Tim. Make love to me right here under the trees,� I told him.
He shifted his arms and I ended up being carried in his arms, his big strong arms that enveloped me. He laid me gently upon the blanket and delicately kissed my lips. My other lips were wetter than they ever were when I had been here alone.
Tim kissed below my earlobes, a place that he knows turns me on. I wanted to gasp, to cry out even, but I saved that for later. I knew he would make me cry out. He kissed his way down to my breasts, maybe a little faster than I would have wanted, but I was still pleased at his haste. Knowing that my body could still drive him to such passion gave me a plush warm feeling deep inside.
He sucked on my nipples and that sent a thrill down my stomach to my pussy. I could feel myself becoming even wetter. My body was preparing itself for him, to be taken by him. I breathed deeper and had an almost subconscious urge to open my legs for him. Again too soon, his lips left my nipples to head south. I can never get him to slow down for this part of the journey. He can�t wait to get between my legs. I know that once he is there he will make me forget ever wanting him to go slower.
Sure enough, I soon felt his fingers pulling on my lips, the breeze gently caressing me in a place it couldn�t reach a moment ago. I lifted myself up on my forearms to watch but I knew that as soon as his tongue touched me there I�ll fall back and just sigh.
It happened that way. His tongue touched me in that special place and a warm surge moved through my body. I was powerless to do anything but look up at the tree branches overhead with unfocused eyes. My hands moved to my breasts of their own accord. I could still feel his saliva on the nipples and the memory of him being there only added to the overwhelming sensations.
I felt his tongue moving along my slit, a feeling that I can never duplicate with my finger. I heard a moan and realized an instant later that I made the sound in response to the way he was stimulating me. The pleasure was just barely below what I can stand. The tip of his tongue brushed my clit and I squeezed my nipples hard in response. One hand left a breast and I felt my fingers running through his hair, pulling his face harder to me. I can never make myself come this quickly when I play with myself, but he can always do this to me. With one hand still tugging on an erect nipple and the other pulling his head harder against my pussy, I felt the wave crashing over me. My legs wrapped around him lest he try to move away from me.
There was no world, no one else but the two of us. I felt the tingling spreading through every part of my body and I cried out. I screamed, not words but just sounds. The sounds of love, the sounds of pleasure. My entire universe had shrunk to what my wonderful husband was doing with his mouth to the space between my legs.
After the wave crashed, as the water flowed away, I became aware again of the sunlight through the leaves and the sound of the breeze in the trees. I licked my lips, aware that my mouth had become dry from my crying out. I looked down to find Tim looking at me and grinning. I could see that my juices were on his cheeks, a reminder of what he had just done to me that made me tingle a little again.
I was ready to return the favor, but Tim had other ideas. He moved over me, his erection dangling between our bodies. I smiled as I realized what was going to happen, what he was going to do to me. He pressed his lips to mine and I drew in a deep breath through my nose. I felt his right hand fumbling around until he found my opening. His other hand was guiding himself to it. I felt that hand around the shaft as he entered me.
When he began to penetrate, I felt a warmth surge through my whole body, like I was melting inside. I was taking him into me, we were joining in the most intimate way. My arms went around his back of their own accord. I felt his strong muscles beneath my hands, I smelled the scent of his body, I felt his weight descend upon me, and I felt his hardness enter me.
His lips moved from mine as he bottomed out and started pulling away. My mouth now free, I groaned out loud, embarrassed that I made such a sound. I was even more ashamed that I did it out here, where someone could overhear. I knew there was no danger of that; I had chosen this place because I knew we wouldn�t be disturbed. I made another sound, louder, as I enjoyed that I could vocalize without fear.
Once I had made the decision to tell him, and even on the walk out here, I worried that we�d never be this close again. That was what I had feared the most�losing this closeness. That was so foolish of me. There was no doubt now how much he loved me, that he could forgive me anything and I would not lose him. I suppose that is what made me give myself to him so completely. It was definitely one of the less inhibited episodes of lovemaking we had ever experienced, and it was taking place under the trees at my parents� farm.
I had already enjoyed my orgasm so it wasn�t as necessary for me to have another. I focused on giving him one, though he never failed to have one. Deep within me was this need to give him pleasure, to thank him for his forgiveness, to give thanks for the relief of having this burden lifted from my soul.
I squeezed my vaginal muscles, massaging his cock as it moved within me. I could feel it as it moved, giving me thrills that made me cry out again, though I was seeking his pleasure rather than my own. In a way, it was good that I was not seeking an orgasm because I could concentrate on his, on watching him experiencing pleasure that I was giving to him. I was enjoying watching him receive this gift from me.
I knew his orgasm was imminent before it happened. I felt his body tense up, felt his cock throb inside me, then he thrust deeply into me and held himself there. The warm spurts came and I enjoyed them, giving myself as a receptacle to him, knowing it gave him such pleasure. Though I didn�t cum, the enjoyment of that encounter was a pleasure I felt through my entire being.
He stayed on top of me after, supporting most of his weight on his arms. I liked feeling him on top of me as we cuddled and kissed. The closeness after was as important to me as the act itself. In time, we talked again, after the kissing.
�I can�t believe you knew,� he said, sounding almost sad.
I nodded. �Yes, I knew. It was so hard keeping that from you,� I said, starting to cry a little.
�Don�t,� he said. �You don�t have to do that. It�s all over now. We have each other and that is what matters. You are the one I want to be with. No one else.�
�I know, but I�m crying because I�m so relieved. You know, you forgive me, and you still love me.�
He laughed, the motion making his softened cock finish slipping free of my slick confines. �Of course I love you. Nothing can change that. You should know that.�
�I do,� I said, losing myself in his eyes, �I really do.�
And I did. Deep down inside, I knew that I�d never lose him. I felt silly for ever thinking that. We had so much between us that one secret could never change.
Our relationship deepened that day, out there on the picnic. We dressed and returned to the red checkered blanket where we shared wine and food. We talked and laughed about that summer of 1982, and that fall. He shared things he had never told me, things about his time with Patrice. There was really little I didn�t already know; she and I had discussed all the details in late night chats in our dorm room.
Something did change, though. As we talked, I found myself wondering about Patrice. I wondered what had happened to her. I wanted to know if she had ever found anyone else, if she had found the kind of happiness that I had found. The kind of happiness that I took away from her and kept for myself, I admitted.
Tim noticed the change by the look in my eyes and asked me what I was thinking. I started to tell him it was nothing, but stopped myself. I had decided to stop keeping secrets from him and I wasn�t going to break that vow. I told him how I was curious about Patrice.
�You really lost touch with her?� he asked, sounding surprised.
�Yes, she didn�t seem to want me around after� ,� I told him. �I missed her terribly. We had become so close. When she moved out so suddenly, I felt abandoned, empty. All I had left was you and you were so far away.�
I thought about what I was going to say next. I hoped it wouldn�t hurt Tim�or Patrice�but I knew I couldn�t keep it to myself. I had to know.
�I want to find her. I want to talk to her,� I proclaimed, as much to myself as to my husband.
Tim seemed to think about that for a few minutes before saying anything.
�Do you really think you can find her after so much time?�
�I�d like to try. Tim, would you mind if I try? If you don�t want me to, I won�t. I promise,� I said.
Tim, that great man, smiled and said, �Find her, Fran. If it means that much to you, then do whatever it takes to find her.� And then he kissed me, deeply and passionately. We made love a second time after that, and that time I did have an orgasm. Did I ever!
When we were ready to return to the house, it was a happy walk, much lighter than my journey out there. Instead of holding hands, we each held one of the handles on the old wicker picnic basket. If I could have, I would have skipped. My heart felt that light.
As we approached the house, I felt myself blushing. I just knew that my mother would take one look at the glow on my face and know what we had been doing. I only hoped Dad wasn�t there when we got back.
When we entered the house, Mom and Laura were still in the kitchen, now eating the cookies they had baked earlier in the day. Mom studied my face as we entered. Her own face showed relief when she saw how happy I was. She knew things had gone well. Whatever had been the problem, it was resolved.
We managed a few more picnics on that visit. We even took Laura on two of them. She was starting to ask what we were doing that she couldn�t come with us. Mom, to her credit, never did ask what my problem was. When it was time to pack up for home, as I kissed my mother goodbye, I whispered my thanks. She just smiled.
While Tim drove on the long ride home, my thoughts were elsewhere. I was trying to think about how I could find Patrice. I passed many hours that way. When we passed the remains of the Camp Kisatchie sign on the way home, I smiled. The sign on that side of the interstate was just as worn as the other one. I didn�t face it with dread this time. It was no longer a secret I was keeping from my husband. It was now a secret we shared and I felt a lot better about that.
Passing the sign was a kind of breakthrough for me. Ideas started to come together. By the time we reached home a few hours later, I had a plan. I put the plan into action the very next day.
I tried searching for Patrice�s name on the Internet but found too many hits. Not knowing where she was living made the puzzle almost impossible to solve. Almost. I remembered that she had lived in Shreveport. Digging through my college notes in the attic, I finally found an address and phone number. I only hoped her parents were still alive and hadn�t moved in the intervening years. With a trembling hand, I dialed the phone number. It rang, then again and again.
�Hello?� a woman�s voice said.
It wasn�t Patrice�s voice. I hoped it was her mother. I explained that I was trying to find an old friend from college. The woman, who told me she was in fact Patrice�s mother, was pleased that I was trying to find Patrice. I told her we had been roommates and had lost touch. She was very helpful, giving me her address and phone number in Dayton, Ohio. I wanted to pump the woman for more information but I didn�t want to call too much attention to my quest. If Patrice didn�t want to see me (which was very likely), I didn�t want her to know I was looking. It was probably an invasion of her privacy, but I was driven by the need to see her, to talk to her and see how her life turned out�after I took Tim away from her.
I didn�t call her. I probably should have, that would have been the easy thing to do, but I didn�t. I used my Internet skills instead to learn everything about her that I could. As I progressed in my quest, Tim took an interest.
One night after work, at an apparent dead end, I sighed loudly.
�Not going well?� he asked from beside me as he watched television.
�I think I�ve learned all I can about her from the Internet,� I explained, looking at my notebook screen again. �There just isn�t much here.�
Tim got up and stood behind the sofa, putting his strong hands on my shoulders and rubbing as he looked at the computer screen.
�You have her address, right?� he inquired.
�Yes, but that only tells me she lives in Dayton.�
Tim bent down closer to me, a sly grin on his face. �It can tell you a lot more, if you only know how to ask the right questions.�
He had my attention now.
�Go to Google Earth and put in the address. You can get an aerial photograph of her neighborhood.�
�So? It�s not likely she was out in the yard waving at the airplane when the picture was taken,� I retorted. I was doubting this would lead anywhere.
Tim kept smiling. �Seeing the houses around hers will tell you the kind of neighborhood it is. The lifestyle, the income levels of her neighbors. Are there swing sets in her backyard? Bicycles in the driveway? Does she have children? How many cars in the driveway? Is she married?�
�You are devious,� I said, now smiling along with him. �That�s good.�
I did as he suggested. He kissed my neck as I typed and, in a few minutes, we were studying an image of a quiet neighborhood across the street from a large park. Children played in that park, played baseball by the look of it.
She lived in a nice residential area, but the picture didn�t show any cars and the detail wasn�t quite good enough to show toys or play sets in the backyards.
�The picture must have been taken in the middle of the day,� Tim said. When I looked at him, he explained, �That�s why there are no cars in the driveways. Better lighting for the picture, though. It shows more detail.�
�How do you know all this?� I asked, a question I often posed to him.
�I read a lot,� he answered, his stock answer.
He came around to sit next to me and studied the picture, deep in thought.
�How much do you want to know?� he asked as he turned to face me.
�Tim, you know the answer to that,� I said.
He nodded. �Then it�s time for a road trip.�
�You mean �� I started to say.
�I mean, the only way you are going to get the answers to your questions is to go there and talk to her. Face to face.�
His suggestion caught me off guard. Could I face her after all these years? Would she even talk to me?
�What about Laura?� I asked, stalling.
�She can stay with my sister for a few days. We�ll drop off Laura on the way and drive up there to visit Patrice.�
Tim�s words hung in the air. I wanted to act on it, but did I dare? What if she wasn�t home? What if she slammed the door in my face?
Tim knew me too well. He could look at my face and know the internal battle I was having with myself.
�What if you have that chat with her that you should have had years ago and all of your fears turn out to be unfounded?� he asked.
I started to say something but stopped and thought about what he had said. I ended up laughing.
�Okay, let�s do it,� I said.
Once the decision was made, I started feeling better about it. We had a new plan.
It took a few weeks to work everything out with Tim�s sister and arrange for both of us to take a few days off work. We would drive to Memphis and leave Laura with Tim�s sister. On the next day, we would drive to Dayton to look for Patrice. I really appreciated Tim putting up with this for me. I�d make sure I showed him in bed how much I loved him.
The drive to Memphis was uneventful. Laura was used to long car trips and looked forward to visiting Aunt Sharon and Uncle Stan. The next day, a Friday, Tim and I kissed Laura goodbye and drove up to Dayton.
Leaving Kentucky behind us, we passed through Cincinnati on our way north. Tim pointed out the Great American Ballpark that was the home of the Cincinnati Reds and I tried to sound interested for his sake. As we entered Dayton, I had my turn to be interested when we saw the Dayton Mall just as we passed I-675. We had reservations at the Doubletree on South Ludlow downtown. We checked in and relaxed from the long drive. After a shared shower and dinner, we settled in for a night of just the two of us.
Though I did my best to make it good for Tim, I didn�t enjoy myself as much as I thought I would. Worries of what the next day might bring kept me feeling anxious even as I held onto my husband and made love to him with all my might.
To be concluded in Part III � The Truth
This story is Copyright � 2006 by Strickland83. All rights reserved.