Lost Days Make for Memories and Souvenirs

"I wish I had more. I need the practice. I'd like to do that with my boyfriend when I get home."

Apologizing for the mention of Eric, I leaned forward and placed my lips against his, kissing him, kissing him hard, forcing my tongue into his mouth. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he kissed me back, a bit tentative at first, but responding quickly. I broke the kiss and looked at him.

"If I've offended you...?"

"Lady, you couldn't offend me if you farted in my lap!"

Laughing, I pressed my lips against his and his arms pulled me tight. I guess it could have been the pot, could have been a lot of things, I guess, but I was burning hot and I wanted this man. My hands roamed his broad shoulders and his explored my body as well. We had just started yanking at each other's clothing when Kevin pulled away

"No!" I protested.

He picked me up. He picked me up like a bride and carried me across to the bed and put me down. He was so strong, shockingly strong for a man his age. He came down atop me and soon had me naked above the waist. I practically writhed out of my clothes. I did writhe when he attacked my naked breasts with his demanding lips; his trapped erection against my leg made it hard to think. Every touch left a tingling on my skin. Between us we got me down to my panties and him down to his boxer shorts. His hand slipped into my panties as mine went in through the front closure of his shorts and grasped his waiting cock. He groaned, and I moaned with him.

"Get my panties off!" I gasped. Too late, I wrenched them off myself. Then I pushed him flat on his back and yanked his boxer shorts down around his thighs. His glorious cock was free and I gaped at it wonderingly, wanting it in my mouth but not having the patience to wait an instant longer. I scrambled atop him, placing myself in position, guiding him into me with my right hand while my left kept my balance. I grunted, and then gasped as I slid myself down him.

"Oh, my God," I moaned. I just sat there a moment, letting the feel of him inside me fill my mind. His hands cupped my breasts and I could feel my hardened nipples against his palms. He felt them also, because he took them between his fingertips and gently turned them back and forth. He fingered the gold bar in my left nipple. My back arched, thrusting my chest forward in response. I began to fuck him.

I went slowly at first; rising up and gently settling myself back down. I was embarrassingly wet. I fingered my clit and rubbed it against his pubic hair, grinding into him on the down-stroke, letting the sparks of pleasure consume me entirely. I began to shudder as my legs and hands lifted me and lowered me back down in a desperately accelerating rhythm. I ground on him and writhed and panted; he responded by thrusting up on my down-stroke, clutching my waist, using my hips to thrust me back down. I cried out, his erection spearing my cervix and stretching me painfully inside. I would be sore in the morning; I knew that. The harder I fucked him, the harder my breasts flopped up and down. We became frenzied.

When he came, I cried out and arched my back and slammed myself down atop him. I held myself there—he held me there—as spurt after spurt rocketed up from his scrotum and into my cunt. I could feel its hot presence trying to burn through me like lava. Not satisfied as we were, Kevin flipped me onto my back and lanced me with his sword, driving into me like a Knight of the Round Table gutting an enemy. I cried out in pain and agony—an agony of ecstasy as his bitters continued to fill my chalice, to overflowing.

"Oh, my God, Kevin!" I cried, as my second orgasm was unleashed. I buried my face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder and tried to remain conscious as his steel-hard cock continued to gore me like a spike. I continued to orgasm, not believing he could stay hard so long after his ejaculation. It was just impossible. And then he proved me wrong by exploding in me again. All I could do was moan, "Oh, my God, Oh, my God," over and over again.

Finally, we lay panting, soaked in sweat. I breathed through my mouth, beads of salt water rolling down my face and out of my hairline. I whispered in his ear: "Nobody's ever fucked me like that before. God, how you fucked me." His only response was to chuckle breathlessly.

I don't know how long we lay there. I realized I was cold and opened my eyes to find Kevin staring down at me, lust in his eyes. Lust...and a question. He wanted me again. He was asking permission.

"I'm cold," I said. "Why don't we shower and see what fun we can get up to there?"

Grinning, he rolled off me, struggled to his feet and then picked me up off the bed. He shook this time under my weight, but was plenty strong enough to get me into the bathroom and sit me down on the commode. I nibbled his ear as he carried me, which got me a hug of appreciation. He started the shower while I gathered the shampoo, conditioner and unwrapped a bar of soap. He made the water hot enough to billow great clouds of steam into the room. I climbed in, taking refuge behind his stout body as he adjusted the temperature away from scalding. Then he turned around and took me in his arms and captured my mouth. I surrendered, letting him do with me as he pleased. His pleasure was to do things to me that couldn't be done in bed without soap and water and a fine sense of humor.

He didn't so much wash me, as abrade me clean. Out of the shower he allowed the minimum possible time to towel my hair and body, and then it was back to bed, carried once again in his arms. This time, I was not gripped by desperation. He put me on my back and inserted his erection in my mouth and spread my legs apart and he showed me what his mouth could do. I closed my eyes and concentrated on nothing but the cock in my mouth and the tongue between my legs. I could not spread my legs wide enough. I wanted him deeper in me. I moved my head up and down his shaft, while he inserted a finger up me, and then two, and then three, freeing his lips and tongue for my clitoris. Oh, my God, what he did to me. Oh, my God, what he made me body do reacting to his ministrations. I began to moan in a continuous paroxysm of enjoyment. He made my moaning grow louder and louder until I thought I'd humiliate myself with the neighboring guests. He'd remove his fingers and replace them with his tongue, only to refill me with his fingers again. Soon I was beyond caring what the neighbors thought.

"Oh, my God," I moaned again. Kevin had just slid his middle finger up my behind. I began to come and continued to come as he fucked me in my forbidden zone, working another finger up me as I began to acclimate. I cupped his balls in my hand and massaged them energetically, urging them on; convincing them my mouth was ready for their come. God, it was so ready! I used my free hand to insert two fingers of my own into the depths of his exposed anus, and that's all it took. An instant later he went rigid and life-giving sperm pumped out of him into my waiting mouth. I swallowed greedily, unwilling to waste so much as a single drop. He pumped and pumped, and I swallowed and swallowed. I had never wanted come in my stomach so much. I had never wanted come in my stomach before at all, always considering it a service expected of me. This time I wanted it all.

The sex was taking a toll on us both. Kevin remained atop me for the longest time, though he supported his weight rather than let it crush be into the bed. I could have laid there forever like that, his penis at my lips, his scrotum dangling above my eyes. Finally he got off and struggled to lay down beside me.

"Hello," he said, smiling wearily.

"Hello," I said back to him. His mouth was crusted with my drying vaginal juices and I leaned in and licked at them, enjoying my own taste. He laughed, and turned his face this way and that to allow me full access. I felt like a puppy-dog, licking her master's face. When I was done he put my mouth to better use, tasting, I'm sure the residual taste of his own sperm. If he minded, he didn't complain. I fell asleep in his arms, feeling warm and protected and loved. He still held me when I awoke in the morning.

"I had hoped you would stay," I said, smiling and yawning. "I want more of you."

His blue eyes smiled back at me. "Let's order breakfast. I'm famished."

I let him order while I started the shower and saw to my bodily needs. He joined me and I stepped into the tub to allow him privacy to take care of his. My hair was a tangled, knotted mess. I worked it out with my brush while water cascaded down my front, tossing the hairbrush onto the sink when Kevin joined me. He shampooed my hair, washed me down thoroughly with his hands, inside and out, and then conditioned my hair. I let the conditioner soak in while I washed every bit of his with inquisitive fingers. We didn't talk, speaking only as a matter of last resort. It was a very erotic, if relatively chaste shower.

Breakfast arrived and Kevin tipped the boy and set out the plates while I brushed my hair and quickly dried it with the Sheraton's blow drier. I removed my complimentary robe as I sat down; wanting to afford Kevin the best possible scenery to enjoy with his breakfast. He seemed to appreciate this, proved unable to remove his eyes from my breasts. I was unable to finish my coffee as suddenly he decided dessert was in order and returned me to bed.

It was our first slow, passionate lovemaking. We kissed and licked each other in slow and determined manner, each touch re-igniting the flames of passion that had started the night before. No drugs or alcohol fueled this fire and when Kevin entered me, I gasped and levered myself wide and thrust my hips up and into him. We danced a slow tango that morning, the bed our dance floor, the music our passion. When we came it was deep and rewarding. His cock jumped inside me as he filled me with cum, my legs wrapped around his middle as I came with him.

Later, we took a walk in the still falling snow, knowing we'd have another day together, maybe two or three. Like newlyweds we left the room for only short periods. We never had another drink or smoked any more pot. We were the only drugs each other needed. By the time we parted, my insides were nearly raw, but I felt a glow inside that I knew would always be there. Our last day, as we languished in bed, sweaty from lovemaking, I said:

"This week has been just wonderful, Kevin. I've never had such a good time. In some ways, it would be nice to think this could go on and on forever, that we could find a way to meet again, find a way to make this more then a memory. But I have someone at home I love, and while I may endure some guilt over this time with you, I will never, ever regret it."

He smiled and kissed my nose. "I can't tell you how completely satisfied I feel, and how much I've enjoyed our time together, Ang. But you're right; we've got our lives to return to. I want you to have my number, and no, I won't take yours. It's not that I wouldn't want to call you in a second; but I have to let this go right now. Having your number would be too much temptation. I'd be forced to use it; I wouldn't be able to help myself. You should list me by my company name, so Eric need never know. It makes me feel better knowing you can reach me if you need me. But I don't expect to resume this, no matter how much I wish otherwise."

While Kevin dressed, he hummed a familiar tune. I sat there in bed, the covers wrapped around me, wondering what it was, where I'd heard it before. Finally I asked.

"It's and old tune by Harry Chapin, who passed away in a car accident many years ago. It's called Taxi, and tells the story of—"

"Old lovers," I broke in, remembering. "He picks her up at the airport one night, or from somewhere, I don't remember, and drives her home to her house."

"They thought they'd be rich and famous," he said, grinning. "She'd be an actress, and he'd learn to fly airplanes." He began to recite the words, his voice a passable imitation of Harry Chapin's own:

"She was gonna be an actress, and I was goon learn to fly. She took off to find the footlights; I took off for the sky. We both had gotten what we asked for, such a long, long time ago, She took off for the footlights, I took off for the sky. Now she's acting happy, inside her fancy home, and me I'm flying in my taxi, taking tips, and getting stoned."

He smiled sadly, crossed to the bed and kissed me. "Go home to your footlights, Angie and I'll go find my stars."

I kept his number, of course, and our memories. I felt very little guilt over the relationship. It was only a few lost days, after all. So I told myself.

When I did contact Kevin three months later, he sounded as though he was expecting my call. "Sorry," he said, before I could tell him the reason for calling.

"Why are you sorry," I asked, surprised.

"I have a knack for knowing things that I can't explain how or why I know, just that I do. I'm here for you, Angie, whatever you choose."

I had lost my boyfriend shortly after the trip, but that was to be expected, I guess. Whether he suspected anything, I don't know; perhaps my mood was different, perhaps compared to the days prior to my West Virginia trip the passion and excitement weren't there. Whatever the reason, it wasn't long before he and I drifted apart. The last I saw him he was escorting a pretty redhead into the local Red Lobster.

A week after he left I discovered I had a life growing inside me. I knew it wasn't Eric's: Eric had never had me unprotected. When I was sure, after visiting an OB/GYN, I called Kevin. I wasn't sure yet that I wanted him, but I wanted him to know.

"Kevin, really I'll call back again. I'm just not sure how involved we should be in this. I need to think."

So here I sit, thinking.

I've always wanted to be a mom, but I'd never considered doing that job alone. I'm not sure that I want to be a wife though. I do miss Kevin; I could see us together, but all I know of him and I is a couple of hot wonderful days in a motel room during a snowstorm. I want to be a mom I do know I won't end this pregnancy prematurely. It's single mom, adoption or a partner.

The smart thing to do would be to go and see if Kevin and I are more than a memory of good times, see if what the storm brought together was more than a few days of pleasure.

I reached for the phone.