I tried to be honest with my husband, I really had. But how do I tell him how devastated I was when Alan accepted that scholarship to Georgia instead of Washington State? How, now, thirty-one years after I’d last seen him, I’m still so in love with him.
It was why I hadn’t wanted to dredge up the memories when Robert started asking me about ‘my first time’. I’d stored it all in the far, inaccessible recesses of my mind, and that was where I had intended it to stay. Forever. I hadn’t lied when I told him what a wonderful life we’ve had together. And I think that when I said I wasn’t ‘that girl’ anymore, I was trying to convince myself as much as him. Maybe even more.
I’d put my memories of that year with Alan in the dark recesses of my mind, where they belonged, hoping they’d stay there forever. And then that night, that weird, incredible, impossible night. I hadn’t thought too much about it when those hours just seemed to disappear. I’d been out with my best friend, Jenny, drinking a little; not much, but I’m not used to alcohol so when those hours disappeared, I just assumed I’d drunk a little more than I thought. Earlier in the evening, Jen and I had even reminisced a little about that night, that it was the thirty-second anniversary of our senior homecoming, when she was a princess and I was queen. I never told her about me and Alan – after the dance, but I think she guessed. Especially, later, when I couldn’t keep it from her that Alan and I were sleeping together.
But then Robert started telling me what he’d seen that night… and the memories came rushing back.
And the fear. The fear of myself. Of those memories.
Now, we’re on a plane heading toward Tampa… and toward what, I have no idea. I know that Alan still has feelings for me. I also know that neither of us can act on those feelings. Why my husband wants to do this, I have no idea. I think he has some weird fantasy that I have no intention of fulfilling. I just can’t.
I’ve been nervous and scared about this trip ever since Robert convinced me to send that message to Alan. I didn’t want to do this. I DON’T want to do it! The simple reason I don’t is that I want to so badly. Does that make sense? I don’t want to because I do want to. I haven’t wanted anything so badly for a long, long time as seeing Alan Ryder again. That’s why this trip is such a huge mistake. I know how hard it’s going to be to resist him, but I have to. There’s no other alternative. And from reading between the lines of his messages, he’s not going to make it easy. He never came out and said it, but I know he wants me.
Well, actually, he did say it… almost. One of his first messages, I remember it, ‘that’s why I’m still single. No one could ever come to the standard you set.’
He’s still single… because of me!
My husband is beside me, smiling, eyes closed, probably trying to get a little sleep. I probably should, too, but I’m too nervous. Last night, should I say, was ‘energetic’. Ever since Alan’s come back into our lives, our sex life has been… suffice it to say, that it was late before we went to sleep.
I know I should wake him up and tell him that we need to just turn around and go home once we get there. But it’s too close, I just can’t. I told Alan that we’d see him at his restaurant tomorrow at seven, not before.
I also didn’t pack anything that’s even remotely sexy for dinner; just Fruit-of-the-Loom underwear and padded bra, slacks, and a sweater. Pretty, but not sexy, loose-fitting to not show anything that a man could misconstrue. It would have been fun, but I sure don’t need that distraction when we see him. And if I don’t have anything with me, I won’t be tempted. Alan will see nothing but a mildly frumpy, middle-aged woman, not the sexy siren of thirty-one years ago. I didn’t even bring makeup or perfume.
I tried to think of everything before making this trip. Badly as I want to see Alan, I don’t want to have anything physical with him; well, I do, but just can’t. The only time we’ll see him will be at his restaurant in public, then the next day we’re flying home. Robert wanted to stay until Monday since it was a holiday, but I convinced him that I had too much schoolwork that needed done Monday. I don’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.
I closed my eyes, trying to get a little sleep, but those visions from so long ago, the back of his pickup truck and others just won’t go away. The same as they haven’t the last months, ever since ‘that night’. I’m pretty sure they haven’t left Robert’s mind, either. What I haven’t told him was just how much I enjoyed just being with Alan. He was funny, polite (except when we were fucking), and constantly flirting, making me feel perpetually sexy. Before he accepted the Georgia scholarship, I expected that we’d probably marry. Then he couldn’t even come back summers with his football schedule.
I know I should feel regret, maybe shame for that year, but I don’t. I was only eighteen and in love with my man. Not just with the sex, but the man. Circumstances interfered and I have had a wonderful life with the man I subsequently chose. No regrets.
It's why I can’t spend time with him. It would be so easy to get caught up in those old emotions and go too far, way too far, sparking those emotions back into a raging torrent. And then I don’t know if I could quell them again.
I justified myself not telling my husband all this. I knew that we’d have a quick hug for old times sake, dinner, then Robert and I back to our room and home the next morning, no harm no foul. Except for those reawakened memories that I’d eventually put back where they belong. I was a woman, not a young girl anymore. I had all the power to prevent anything happening.
We got to the Meridian in the rental car a little after nine and were taken aback with it. Not exactly what we’d expected. Beautiful, high-rise, different than anything we’d stayed in before. It’s horseshoe-shaped, with a big outdoor swim pool in the middle. The clerk told us our room was ready as soon as Robert gave her our name. She didn’t even ask for our credit card, which we both thought was strange.
We were on the fourteenth floor. In the hallway, there’s one place with a big picture window overlooking the beautiful pool. I drooled a little, wanting to go for a swim, but unfortunately, we hadn’t brought any suits. It’s February – outdoor pool. We didn’t take into consideration that it’s also Florida.
Our room had a beautiful view of the bay from the balcony, the city lights reflecting off the water. We both stood on the balcony gazing out, transfixed at the beautiful scene. We are not used to high-seventies late at night in the middle of February. And we discovered a bar in our room, stocked with several different wines, mixers, and very expensive looking alcohol. There was a note on top, ‘Hope you enjoy, A’, signed in the flourish that I remembered from his cards to me way back when. Another memory dredged out.
We laughed a little about what Alan had done, not realizing that neither of us drink hardly at all.
When we talked about going swimming in the pool, we were disappointed that we hadn’t thought to bring swimsuits. Robert suggested with a laugh that maybe we didn’t need one.
“Don’t think management would approve,” I told him.
“But you do want to swim?” he asked me.
“If I had a suit, love to, it’s such a pretty pool.”
He called the front desk, asked if there was someplace close we could buy a suit. When he got off the phone, he told me, “There’s a store about a half-mile. She said to stop at the desk and she’d give me a map. But if it’s closed, they have a few that had been left behind and one might fit.”
About a half-hour later, he was back, carrying a sack. “The store was closed,” he said, “but…” he took a man’s suit out and handed me the bag, “they only had one that was anywhere close to your size,” with a bit of a red face.
I took it and pulled out a tiny bikini, a freakin’ bright orange thong. “I can’t wear this!” I told him, a little frustrated. I guess it wasn’t his fault that they only had this one. But he got the brunt of my frustration. I really had wanted to go swimming in that beautiful pool. Besides, the thing wasn’t even lined! It would show every curve and bump.
“Why not? No one here knows us. We’ll never see any of them again.”
He’s right, why not? Other than the fact that I don’t do naked in front of strangers. I’ve never in my life worn anything like that out in public. My suit at home that I didn’t bring is a one-piece with a little skirt around the waist because I don’t like to show off too much of my hips.
“I’ll put it on. Maybe,” I told him.
So, here I was, in the bathroom, taking my clothes off for these little orange triangles held together by string. No wonder someone left it. It felt weird when I pulled the bottoms tight and tied the strings on both sides of my hips. Besides feeling naked and having that thong-string in my ass, I realized that If I was going to wear it, I had to trim pubic hairs.
I opened the door just a crack, I didn’t want Robert to see yet. “Hon, can I borrow your shaver?” I asked him. So, while I was watching, he plopped his suitcase on one of the beds and dug out his shaving kit, handing it to me.
I closed the door again and pulled the little triangle aside, trimming those stray hairs that had been poking out on both sides. I keep myself trimmed, but not to the extent that I had to be with this thing on.
Then the top, the string behind my back, I tied it in front and turned the top around, then the knot behind my neck and it was done.
When I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe that I was going to do this. The woman in the mirror… she wasn’t me. That woman might even enjoy the camel toe that had already appeared in her swimsuit. But me? I felt completely naked.
But as I was looking, I thought that I’d love for Alan to see me like this, discover what he lost by leaving that fall. I’ve always worked hard, gone to a gym to keep my body in shape. Tight tummy, nice hips, tits still more than firm, especially for a forty-nine-year-old woman. I was proud of my body. I knew I could pass for ten years younger.
That sexy woman in the mirror was me. And she still looked naked!
Too bad all he’ll see is a body safely hidden behind a loose-fitting sweater and slacks.
I noticed my hair; long, dark-brown, lustrous. I’ve always been blessed with beautiful hair. Alan loved running his fingers through my hair. I loved it, too. It looked good falling over my bare shoulders, down my back.
And, my nipples were hard and pointy through the thin material, probably that way because it was just then that I realized I’m actually in the same city as Alan, the first time in thirty-one years. Knowing that I’m seeing him tomorrow… suffice it to say that it’s going to be a long twenty-two hours. Well, that and knowing that I’m going out in public ninety-nine-percent naked. I giggled, realizing how much it was turning me on.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, my husband saw me, and his face instantly went into ‘Holy crap’ mode All he could say was “Wow,” followed up a moment later by, “I like it!”
He would. He’s a man. He’s perfectly covered in a long, baggy swimsuit. I’m the one mostly naked. Speaking of which, I realized I didn’t have anything for a coverup to wear between our room and the pool.
He wrapped his arms around me, hands down to my butt cheeks, massaging them for a moment, “You need to wear this at home!” as his hand worked its way around to the front, between my legs. “I really, really like it!”
I slapped his hand away. I wanted to swim. Then…
“You bring anything I could wear over this?” I asked him. I knew I hadn’t. We went through his suitcase and didn’t find anything that would look decent, so I settled for tying a towel around my waist. “Guess I’m ready,” I told him.
It was fine until the lobby. Seeing the knowing smile on the girl’s face behind the counter and the older couple watching me. She knew what was under the towel and gave me a thumbs-up along with the smile. The man, probably in his seventies, was staring at me and his wife was glaring, intermittently between me and her husband. I nearly died with embarrassment, feeling the blush in my face.
I knew how the girl in the ‘Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini’ must have felt. I would have happily worn this swimsuit when I was eighteen, if it had even existed, which it hadn’t, but NOT as a forty-nine-year-old woman.
I was certain that every eye in the pool area was fixed on me when I stepped down in the water, peeled off the towel, and tossed it up on the pool’s deck. Except I missed and it landed in the water, right at the edge, getting instantly soaked. Crap! Now what? I won’t be able to wear a soaked towel back to our room. I looked around, hoping there were loose towels but didn’t see any. Apparently, everyone just brought towels from their room.
Robert and I swam out to the middle and I stood in about four feet of water. He got a big smile on his face and motioned, “Uhh, sweetheart, you might want to check it out,” pointing at my body. I looked down and was mortified all over again. Not only was the thing little, but it had turned totally transparent in the water, sticking to my skin, almost like it wasn’t there. I hadn’t even thought about that when I saw that it was unlined. Carol or Susan or whatever her name is at the front counter must have known. She’s probably in there laughing her head off right now!
I didn’t know what to do. Swimming on my tummy, my bare butt was out; on my back or standing, my virtually naked tits. At least for the moment, I tread water, in up to my neck. This had been a BAD idea!
Robert was encouraging me, mentioning again that we’d never see anyone here again, dog-paddling around me, closer and closer, until I felt a hand underneath the water, slipping under the front of the suit, “No one’s here that knows us,” he said again, trying to justify what he was doing to me. Okay, I’ll admit, it was turning me on, too.
“Hon, stop it, people will see!” And they were looking, at the nearly fifty-year-old woman with the thong and nasty, horny husband.
”Don’t worry about it. You’re beautiful, enjoy it.” Then he kissed me, one more grope, almost pushing the suit off and took my two hands from behind and tugged me over on my back, floating. “Close your eyes, relax, enjoy the water.” This is something we’ve always done in a pool, floating, letting him tug me around. Just not… naked.
And it did feel good. I even started to enjoy the freedom of my body. As long as my eyes were closed, there was no one else there, no one looking at me. Except Alan. I imagined him there, watching, caressing my tits, his lips wrapping around a nipple. I remembered from so long ago how it had felt, his lips sucking my nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them. I smiled, knowing that my husband would love to see that. Too bad he’s not going to. I’d love it again, too. He has talented lips.
Alan’s remembered tongue lazily traveled down my tummy, briefly tickling my belly-button, then lower. I let my legs float apart, feeling his hands on my ass, holding me up while his tongue worked its magic on my pussy and clit. My body began to clench, and I groaned, the unexpected orgasm ripping its way through my body.
When I calmed and came back to the present, I was on my knees in shallower water, breathing hard, appalled at what had just happened, in a public swim pool! It was exactly the reason I couldn’t be alone with Alan, not even for an instant.
“What was that?” Robert asked, an incredulous look on his face.
“We have to get out of here, back to the room,” I told him. I needed him, badly. And not in public.
I felt like I was naked, getting out of the pool. And I might as well have been. But at that point, I didn’t care. I liked the look. I knew that the orange material was stuck to my body and I could have been competing in a ‘wet t-shirt’ contest – top and bottom. I took Robert’s towel and wrapped it around my waist, leaving my wet tits totally exposed.
I smiled and waved to whats-her-name at the desk on the way past. She gave me another thumbs-up, seeing the effect of the water on the suit she’d loaned us.
The minute or so those fourteen floors took on the elevator seemed like an eternity. Once we were alone in our room, I grabbed Robert and crushed my lips to his, at the same time unzipping his pants and pushing them down. He was fully engorged and every bit as frantic as I was. He pressed me against the door and I wrapped my legs around his waist. the only thing I could think of was the night Alan had done this same thing.
It was prom night, 1988. I smiled to myself, suddenly even remembering the date, May 14th. I’d bought the sexiest dress I thought my parents would let me wear, silky, slinky, spaghetti straps over my shoulders, long with a slit up one side to my hip, matching lace bra and panties. Both our parents took lots of pictures. I’d forgotten those, have to look for them when we get home. Show them to Robert.
On the way to the dance, Alan and I stopped in Columbia Park and spent a good half-hour making out. I was on fire. He unsnapped my bra, took it off, and put it in the pickup’s glove compartment. Then sucked my nipple, his fingers in my pussy. I’d even sucked him. Just enough to tease, not for either of us to come. He pulled up his pants, I straightened my dress, now braless… and took off my panties, giving them to Alan and we went to the dance.
Once there, we both tried to pretend nothing had happened. It made both of us hotter, especially that he had my panties in his pocket. If I moved wrong, the slit in my dress showed my bare hip, that there weren’t any panties underneath. A couple of times, we snuck outside for a few minutes, kissed and he mauled my tits, his hands inside my dress… and inside my pussy.
How a thirty-plus-year-old memory can be so vivid and so powerful I’ll never know. All this was going through my mind when Robert was doing the same. He pushed the bikini top up off my tits and his mouth was on them, first one, then the other, biting and sucking, a hand between our waists pressing fingers in my hot pussy.
Our groans drowned each other out, but I didn’t know if mine were from that night or the other. When Robert pushed the swimsuit aside and pressed inside me, I screamed, remembering that prom.
There was a room in another part of the Community Center that we found. Both Alan and I had gone past the point of no return. He pushed me, face first, against the wall, supporting myself with my hands, legs spread apart. We were teenage kids, so hot for each other and in love.
There were other memories, too. Memories I had no right to after so long; His hard, muscular body, probably much softer now; the look of adoration in his eyes when he was with me, the desire before we made love; how stretched and full I felt when he entered me; how his neck muscles bulged and his face twisted with pleasure when he was thrusting; the taste of his salty skin afterward.
The memories were nearly driving me mad!
Robert fucked me in our hotel room that night. I don’t know if he was thinking about what I’d been telling him about Alan, Tevin, or that night he’d seen us our first time. But I know what I was thinking about: Alan’s big cock slamming in and out of my cunt, how fucking good he had felt. How incredibly good it felt EVERY time we fucked. Or made love. We made love a lot. He could do that, too, be so sensitive to my emotional needs.
My orgasm that night with Alan. It was just… There are no words.
Robert, too. I know how much he loves me. He shows it almost every day. He was showing it again that night. He knew I needed to be fucked and he was doing it. I just don’t think he understood exactly why. There was the thong bikini, but that was only such a tiny part of it. It was only the ignition for the real explosion inside me. My memories.
Robert and I both came hard. Maybe harder than any other time we’d had sex.
Afterward, when we had both collapsed on the floor, leaning together against the wall, the vivid memories of Alan washed through my brain like it had only been yesterday. After the prom, that had been the inaugural night for the mattress in the back of his pickup.
I was more certain than I’d ever been of anything in my life: I HAD to stay away from Alan Ryder!
I rinsed out the swimsuits, put them both back in the plastic bag Robert brought them in and took them downstairs to the Meridian desk clerk. I wanted to that night, to take them to the same girl who’d loaned them. I thanked her profusely for the loan and suggested, “Better have it laundered, there might be cum on it.”
She’s probably early thirties, quite a bit younger than me, slim, pretty. She laughed and said it wasn’t the first time. Then she showed me their stash of ‘lost’ swimsuits. “Pretty sure there are several in there just your size.” We both burst out laughing.
I never told Robert about their stash that he never knew about. Or maybe he did. Hmmm.
The next morning after our complimentary breakfast, we discussed how to spend the day. There were some sights we wanted to see from my earlier research: The 9/11 Fallen Heroes Memorial, for obvious reasons. Not something we could miss while we were here; The Sunshine Skyway Bridge, just because of the grandeur of driving across it; The Riverwalk with the Bay Mercantile. It’s pretty and sounds fascinating with all the little shops kind of like the Pike Place Market in Seattle. I LOVE shopping; and of course, something we couldn’t miss – the Raymond James Stadium where Alan Ryder played so many games with the Bucs.
It was going to be a busy day, our only mostly free day in Tampa. Home tomorrow. Busy, partly because I wanted to not think about that night. About seeing Alan the first time in thirty-one years.
The day was every bit as fun as we’d hoped; somber at the memorial, made me cry reading some of the tragedies and heroic stories engraved in the marble slabs. We’ve never seen a football stadium, other than high school and the Buc’s stadium was a little different than Kennewick High or any of the others in the area. There are no words, just incredible – huge! I wished we had come to a game, just once.
We saved the Riverwalk for last to be there at sunset. By then we were getting a little tired but knew we still had that dinner, the reason we’d come to Tampa. Alan’s grand opening.
By sunset, I’d completely forgotten that it was why we’d gone there last. Something else happened that completely took my mind off it. Robert too, I think. We’d been to several of the little markets and were about to head back to the spot where we’d decided to be at sunset when we went in one last store, a clothing store, similar to what I’d imagine Fredericks of Hollywood to be. Sexy everything.
I’d vowed we were buying NOTHING in that store, for obvious reasons. After a few minutes of browsing, when Robert asked what I was wearing to dinner. I told him, slacks and a sweater. He grinned and held up a dress, “What about this, instead?”
My mouth gaped open, “NO,” I told him, “I have something.”
It was a black, flowery dress, thin that just seemed to flow over his hand when he held it up. Backless with a halter tie around the neck, the only thing holding it on. Short, probably mid-thigh.
“Do you have this in a size four?” he asked the salesgirl, interrupting my complaint that I’m too old to wear something like that. Besides the simple fact that there was no way I could with Alan.
He didn’t understand. Why would he, I hadn’t told him. Regretting it now.
She rummaged through the rack, pulling out the same dress in a smaller size and held it up in front of me. “You’d be so beautiful in this! And no, you’re not too old,” having heard my cut-off complaint about my age.
I tried to tell her again that I couldn’t when she shushed me and led me to a dressing room. “You’re so lucky, your body will look so good in this. Wish I could wear something like it,” she said. She was younger, but a little on the chunky side, just enough that she wouldn’t be able to wear the dress.
Okay, I’ll admit it. The thought of Alan seeing me in something like that made my panties wet. And I was a big girl, I could control myself. Alan knew I was married and he’d be on his best behavior, too, so…
I tried on the dress, had to take my bra off first as there was no way to wear one with it, picturing myself walking into Alan’s restaurant. His eyes as he saw me.
It was a tight-fitting dress, supposed to be that way. My first thought about how thin it looked when Robert first showed me was right, too. She said it wasn’t silk, but some microfiber, incredibly thin and light, but completely opaque. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a sexy young woman looking back, not a forty-nine-year-old. It was tight enough to hold my tits up, even though they didn’t need much, but that tightness showed off every curve, almost like a second skin. It came about halfway between my knees and hips.
She smoothed it down over my hips and said that I’d need different panties that wouldn’t show a panty line, then looked up with a gleam in her eyes, “Or no panties?”
No, I couldn’t do that. I shook my head, “I can’t wear this,” I told her. I almost wanted to explain that I couldn’t because of the same reason I hadn’t wanted to come to Tampa in the first place. It looked so good on me and I wanted it. To wear for Alan.
She wasn’t listening to my objections any more than I was meaning them.
I turned away from the mirror, looking at the back. It almost showed side boob, except for fitting around them as tight as it did, the edge right at the swell of my breast. But the back – it was completely bare down to just about where my ass-crack started. I didn’t even know if I could wear panties with it.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she told me, “wait here just a minute, I know exactly what it needs.”
She was back a couple of minutes later with a pair of black, sheer panties, sheer and low cut so they’d fit low on the hips. I pulled them on, loving how they felt. They fit low on my hips, barely there, and out of sight. Sexy, oh so sexy.
“A little advice,” she said when she saw how much I liked them, “you might want to shave down there. They’ll feel sooo much better… and your husband will love it.”
It wasn’t my husband I was thinking about.
I wished I could. I started to tell her when she told me that she wouldn’t recommend any stockings but I’d need shoes. Another minute later, she was back with a pair of pink heels that I loved, to match the pink flowers. They had about four-inch heels and with diagonal ankle straps. “These will highlight your legs,” she said, “you have beautiful, slim legs. You need to show them off.”
We walked out of the store with a dress, panties, shoes, blush, eyeliner, an exotic shade of lipstick – almost black, but not, “It’ll be perfect with the dress,” she said, then under her breath, “sooo sexy!” And a new perfume that she said would drive both me and my man crazy with lust. If only she knew! My brief sniff had confirmed her assessment. It was more an aphrodisiac than perfume. My willpower was sorely going to be tested.
The woman was a sales master. But with an impeccable judge of sexy! I had never even dreamed how sexy ‘sexy’ could be.
Like I said, after that, we’d both forgotten about the sunset.
Two hours later, we were in a limousine, ordered by Alan Ryder, headed to dinner.
I was wearing a dress unlike anything I’d ever worn before; my pussy freshly shaved and baby-smooth (she was right about how good those panties would feel on my naked pussy); makeup like I’d never used before; and that perfume, she hadn’t exaggerated about that, either. When I squirted it on, I closed my eyes, just inhaling the intoxicating odor. It made me feel… I can’t even describe.
Robert and I were in the back seat of the limousine, him nibbling on my neck, me feeling sexy like I hadn’t even known existed and lusting for a man like I never had before, that I knew I could never again have. Alan Ryder!
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