|
Missed
This material is Copyright, 2003, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission. If you have any comments or requests, please E-mail them to me at anon584c@nyx.net. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. |
|
Missed
|
|
On the other hand, she might have met someone else, someone to whom she had made a commitment. And the November letter had said that she'd be graduating in December. She would send him her new address. So there was no way he could get in contact with her; God knew how many of his previous letters she had received -- none after she'd graduated, probably. Out of sight was probably out of mind. Sylvia was a lovely girl with an active sex drive. She could do better than an anthro grad student on another continent. For that matter, could she do worse? She was probably telling her current lover (fiance? husband?) right that minute about the stuffy grad student she'd thought she'd liked before she met her real love. Well, the expedition had wrapped up. The plane would get to Boston in an hour or two. Then he would at least know his fate. When he got to Boston, though, he still didn't know anything. He called from the airport, but got only dead ends. Her old dorm hadn't the foggiest idea -- former resident? did he know how many former residents a dorm had? did he know how few staff were around in August? The alum office might know -- since policy was against giving out any such information, the secretary he reached didn't see the point in trying to look it up. He needed to get more coins by then. The coffee shop would sell him a roll of nickels if he bought something. The Danish was stale and tasted ungodly sweet after his diet in the village, but the nickels worked. Directory assistance had four 'Sylvia Jennings' listed in Boston. If she didn't have an unlisted phone, if she wasn't living in one of the suburbs (or another part of the country!), if her phone wasn't in her new husband's name, one of those numbers should be hers. He tried them. The third one got her. "Sylvia?" he asked. "George! Sorry. I hope I didn't deafen you." She didn't need to apologize. That response was a delight after all his worries. "Where are you?" "Logan. The first booth I could find. I had to try directory assistance. What happened?" "I graduated in midyear. You knew I would. I wrote you all about it as soon as I knew my new address." "Never got it. I got your November letter last month. Look, has anything else changed? I mean are you married or anything?" He crossed his fingers. "Nothing like that. Do you want me to pick you up?" Did he want that? On the one hand, he wanted that more than anything else. On the other hand, he was hardly presentable right then. "Dunno. I'm filthy. And I caught a cold in Santiago." "I'm coming. I have a car, now." That was fine. That she wanted to see him was wonderful. "I'll be waiting out front. You'll know me by the coat I'm carrying. It ain't just chilly in Chile; it's damn-well freezing." He bought two small packages of Kleenex. The expense was incredible after the price structure of the village. Then he stood outside and let the sun bake a little of the cold out of him. Sylvia drove up and popped the trunk before getting out. "Well," he said, "you're looking great." And she was. This girl had starred in his wet dreams for a year, and she looked better -- even clothed. "So are you. Is this all you have?" "With me. All the important stuff was shipped by the expedition. Gave some of my clothes to people there who'd been great helps. When you've worn three pairs of jeans for a year, sometimes wading streams and never seeing a washing machine, they aren't worth carrying back. So, you're an affluent teacher now? Car and everything." "Calling a new substitute teacher 'affluent' wouldn't endear you to the union," she said as they stood on the sidewalk. He felt awkward -- he badly wanted to kiss her, but he had a cold and was dirty. Besides, what claim did he still have? "And I only got half a year in," she continued. "We're making subsistence wage at best. I'm waiting tables again this summer. That's where the real money lies." "Haven't shifted my point of view yet. These clothes I'm wearing, not even counting the coat. (People were staring at me for carrying a coat in August.)" Maybe they were staring at him for being dressed the way he was. All the other travelers looked like businessmen. Maybe they could smell the coat. It hadn't been tanned very well. "These clothes would be considered significant wealth in the village. Gonna be a shame to throw them away. Goodwill wouldn't take them?" "Throw the coat in the trunk?" he asked. The smell might offend her as well. On the other hand, he could smell the stink of the traffic even with his nose stuffed up. Living in Boston might kill one's sense of smell. She had an 'Impeach LBJ' sticker on the fender. "Can't believe I voted for that mother," he said. "Had to. If Goldwater had got in, American troops would be fighting a war in Vietnam by now." He was tempted to treat her as if the previous year hadn't happened. He glanced down at her thigh every time she accelerated away from a stop. He could see the muscles flexing under that old denim, and his hand ached to caress them, at least hold her leg. But the year had intervened. She had been in his thoughts, in his wet dreams; he had no reason to believe she had thought of him. Well, she had welcomed his return; that was something. She had a room in a rooming house. When they got there and the door was closed on the hall, she came into his arms for a kiss. That was heavenly, but he felt filthy. "I'm dirty," he said. "Question is," she replied, "are you hungry? Spaghetti?" "Your spaghetti? I ate on the plane, but it wasn't your spaghetti." "Are you finished?" she asked at the end of the meal. He realized that he'd eaten much less than he would have eaten before the expedition. "I've gotten out of the habit. They had some good stuff -- some stomach-turning stuff, too -- but their good stuff didn't match your standards." She put her glasses on the table, and he put his glasses beside them. She came around the table for a kiss. "I'm dirty," he warned her. "For God's sake. Take a shower. Not yet. You need to visit the drugstore." "Drugstore?" A shower would help a lot more than deodorant. "I went off the pill." He hadn't dreamed that they would start back again, certainly not so suddenly. Well, he'd dreamed that all right, but he'd not believed it for a minute when he was awake. But going off the pill suggested a medical reason. He should at least voice some concern. "Problems?" he asked. "Nothing medical. It's just that I didn't need it anymore." That sounded even better. "Do you have money?" "Enough for that. I should buy a toothbrush, too. Can I use your toothpaste?" "Sure. I've got it here. You can take it with you to the bathroom." When he got back, she outfitted him completely -- robe, towel, soap, toothpaste, shampoo. She stood outside the door while he showered and used the other stuff. He put on her robe, which rode indecently high on him. He'd hate putting on his clothes again, but they'd look better than this. She brought him back to the room, and he dumped his clothes in a corner when she came into his arms for a kiss. "I've got a cold," he warned her. She wasn't deterred, and -- truth to tell -- he would have been disappointed if she had been. The kiss was sweet and deep, her tongue meeting his. Still, with the cold, he had to breathe through his mouth. When he left her mouth, he trailed kisses over her face and down her neck towards her breasts. When he'd got the blouse unbuttoned, she stepped back. Why had she asked him to buy the Trojans then? "Faster this way," she said. When she'd got her top half bare, he kissed her breasts reverently. "Missed these," he said. "Missed you." She let him kiss those delightful globes, running her hands through his hair as she did. He resisted the nipples as long as he could, which wasn't long. When he fumbled with the snap of her jeans, she stopped him. "You can't do those; hardly can myself." She stepped back. "First the bed," she said. That was a great idea. She went to the closet, a large closet for such a small room. When she opened it up, there was some sort of a contraption inside. She pulled it down, and -- after a brief appearance as a threat -- it turned into a double bed. Meanwhile, she was moving and exerting herself with her breasts swinging free. The sight was delightful. When she was less busy, he had to pay tribute to them. He kissed each one, and when she turned around, held them. Meanwhile, she removed her jeans. She probably could have done that faster without his interference, but he'd been denied those breasts for more than a year. When she was down to her panties, she took her robe off him. Except for the necessary moments of pulling his arms through the sleeves, his hands were never off her. He had a year's deficit of touch to make up. "Let me look at you," she said and pushed him back. He let her look, but he still felt her breasts. She lay down on the top sheet. "Come here." That was an invitation he wasn't about to refuse. He lay down beside her and kissed her while his hands returned to her breasts. Soon, touching wasn't enough; he kissed them all over before concentrating on the nipples. He stroked down to her legs. He fondled her thighs, then ran his fingers over her panty-clad mound. The last impediment was easily removed. Her vulva was delightful to feel, and he could tell that she was becoming aroused as well. She grasped his cock, then stopped. "Damn!" she said. Was there a problem? "Could you get the rubber?" That was a problem easily dealt with. Actually, it turned out to be less easy than he had thought. His clothes were in a pile in the corner, and the box was in the left trouser pocket. He put on the condom and returned to the bed. He was prepared to start all over again, if he could last that long without raping her or exploding. But, when he kissed her breast again, she spread her legs in an unmistakable -- and irresistible -- invitation. He climbed between her legs and put his cock where it belonged. "Oh, Sylvia," he said. It had been so long. He slid into that warmth, that clasp, that welcome. "Oh George," she said. She pulled his head against hers and kissed him. He pushed his tongue between her lips to meet hers. But he couldn't stop there. He pulled out and pressed all the way back. This felt so good that he did it again, faster. He gave up on controlling his speed. He was thrusting into her faster and faster, but she was responding to him -- fucking him back. The pressure built. It had been so long. As it overtook him, he pressed all the way into her and erupted. His last thought was that he was too heavy on her. When he tried to move off, though, she held him. Gratefully, he relaxed into that softness. But, as his cock softened and shrank, it was leaving the condom in her. He lifted his torso to grasp it around him. When he pulled out, she let him go. Now where to put the condom. "Wastebasket okay?" "Sure." He should wash the last sperm off before pushing it against her again. But the bathroom required both of them, and they had only one robe. Besides, the bed was too attractive. He returned and held her close. Sylvia! He was back, really back. He'd missed this. Missed the other, sure -- he'd been deprived of that for so long he felt he could go again right now. But he'd missed the lying together afterwards, too. He was in heaven, and he wouldn't think that he'd have to go back to the temporary housing in the dorm. Instead, he'd enjoy the warm skin next to his. Then Sylvia got up and dressed. He'd have to do that, too. But when could they have another session? She probably had restrictions; other residents had odds and ends in the bathroom, all of them feminine. Could he sneak her into the dorm? He hadn't seen it yet. Then she tossed cold water on all his plans. "Don't look for this to be repeated," she said. She did have a new boyfriend. But she went on. "But I will take your clothes to the laundromat this time." Well, he wouldn't mind if that wasn't repeated. Right now, though, he didn't have clothes to wear while those were in the machine. "That would be kind of you." He cleaned out the pockets of his shirt and jeans. She held out a grocery bag to take all the clothes. She left with that bag and another folded one. If she took detergent, he didn't see it. Wandering around her room naked was somewhat arousing. He kept out of her drawers but did look in the closets after the bookshelves. Even in her absence, she was present in her things. And other girls were present just outside the walls. He heard their voices and their footsteps. He climbed into bed, where the sheet could give a little warmth. Soon, he drifted off. He awoke from a dream of Sylvia to the reality of Sylvia. She was kissing him. "Sorry. Thought I'd got all that out of my system on the plane." "Nothing to be sorry about. Just what I always wanted, a naked man sleeping in my bed." She removed the sheet. "And a good looking one, too. Chile agreed with you." She was fully dressed, and his cock was beginning to harden. He wasn't sure he liked their relative positions. Still, he'd ogled enough; it was fair to let her ogle. And it was sexy in a strange way. Then she did more than ogle. "And what is that?" she asked pointing at his cock. "You'd think you're glad to see me again." "I am glad to see you," he said. "I missed this -- missed you." "Well, let me get out of my clothes. This bed's so hard to get down, don't want to waste its availability," She stripped -- his turn to ogle. When she got into bed beside him, he leaned over to kiss her. He touched her everywhere, and she made not the slightest objection. Soon, his mouth was following his hands. Her neck tasted salty; she'd been working in a hot laundromat, doing his work. He couldn't keep away from her breasts for long, though. He sucked on them and stroked up between her legs. She was juicy, nice and juicy. He spread the juice around. He had to remember to change breasts. On the way, he visited her mouth once more. It was sweet. He needed more mouths to kiss everywhere he wanted to, mouth, throat, breasts. And there was a tempting navel he hadn't visited at all. She was obviously getting closer. He caressed her vulva, stroking the clit occasionally. He kept sucking on her luscious breast. She came, came quite obviously. When she stopped responding, he removed both hand and mouth. He wanted to taste those breasts some more, but he knew that would have to wait. He hugged her, scrupulously avoiding sensitive skin and any interference with her breathing. This was Sylvia; this was his darling. "George?" she asked. "Who did you think was hugging you?" "Could you find another rubber?" "Right here," he said. He wasn't quite firm, yet, but there was enough rigidity to allow him to get the condom on. He kissed her again, then progressed to her breasts, which seemed extra responsive to his licks. The sensitivity of her vulva, on the other hand, wasn't the good kind of sensitivity. He went back to stroking her less sensitive regions. When she grasped his cock, however, he figured she was ready. He got into position. The lips of her vulva felt divine on his cockhead, even through the latex. "Sylvia!" he said. He felt her surrounding him, first the cockhead, then the shaft. She was warm and tight. He moved so he could hold her breasts while in that position. The feel of her nipples against his palms was as exciting as her warm clasp around his cock. He settled into the old, familiar, delightful, rhythm. The noise of the bedsprings kept time, but if that bothered Sylvia she didn't mention it. She was responding to him, moving up when he entered her. He loved this, but it was too soon after the last time. His excitement was at a high plane, but it wasn't getting any higher. Still, the sensations were delightful. Life couldn't be any better than this. And then it got better. Sylvia clasped his butt with both hands. Soon she was clasping his cock with her vulva. The feeling was exquisite. He was becoming more excited, but the demand which preceded coming was nowhere evident. He kept moving in and out of Sylvia's pulsing vulva. When the tight clasps eased for a moment, he thought she was finished. Then she started again. This time, her walls' clasp on his cock excited him the final bit more. "Oh God!" he said, and poured out into her. And poured, and poured. He collapsed onto her softness. When he could, he moved off. He should be hugging her but couldn't find the energy. Where had that come from? He should have been drained the first time. "Wow," he said. "Wow, yourself. You can't stay here. I wish you could, but you can't." He could see that. "I wouldn't be any good to you for days, anyway. I need to use the plumbing, and I don't think I can get up to do that." When he did get up, he removed the condom. It had felt like gallons pumping out of him. It looked like almost nothing in the condom. He put on the clothes she had washed and staggered out to the toilet. While he was standing there, he heard another voice berating her. "Miss Jennings!" "Mrs. Lorenzo," Sylvia responded. "You'll have to use the other bathroom; I have a visitor, and he's using this one." "I know you have a visitor, Miss Jennings. And your lease says very specifically 'single occupancy.'" "He's not staying here. I know he can't. He was just...." "I know what he was doing." Uh-oh. He had called out when he came. Well, she had been so damn sexy. Still, she would see that he was at fault, and he couldn't argue with that. "The entire building knows what he was doing, maybe the entire block. I can't condone promiscuity, but -- if you have to do it -- discretion is still advisable." "Were you working your way up to giving notice?" It might not be the right time for Sylvia to ask that question. "That will have to wait until tomorrow. I don't have the forms here." Ouch! When she was in the car driving him to Harvard, he said "Sorry about that. I heard what she said. I wasn't thinking when I yelled." He couldn't really feel sorry about shouting; it had felt so good. But he did feel sorry about the consequences. "That's okay. Well, I've got to look for a new apartment...." There was a long pause while he tried not to stare at her. "Should I look for an apartment for one or an apartment for two?" "For two?" Was she suggesting what he thought? Or was he just dreaming. "You mean like for Sylvia and George?" "That's what I mean." "With our own bathroom and everything?" he asked. "Without a landlady listening at the keyhole? Sounds great." And then reality intruded. "That was a 'yes.' But I can't come up with my share of the rent until maybe the tenth of September." "That's no sweat." There was a long pause while he considered having Sylvia in his arms every night. "You want to see the places?" she asked finally. "Just what you select. I'm sure it will be fine. This is a great idea." They were at his temporary dorm -- more temporary than he had thought when getting off the plane. "I missed you all year." Well, 'missed' was a good euphemism. He'd imagined her. "And I missed you, too." That deserved a kiss. Kiss? that deserved flowers, but they would have to wait until he was solvent. He retrieved his coat from the trunk. He'd have to do something about the smell if he was going to be sharing space with Sylvia. Sharing space, sharing a life, with Sylvia -- that would be his dream tonight. |
The End Missed Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net 2003/05/26 Thanks to Denny for editing this. These same events from Sylvia's perspective, can be read in: Sylvia's Experience Some further adventures of George with Sylvia: "Monopoly" Another story in which a couple gets together is: "Trust" The index to almost all my stories is: Index to Uther Pendragon's website |