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Nineteen years ago, I graduated from high school. We had a small class – only 154 graduates. One hundred fifty three of us marched down the aisle in the school auditorium on that day in early June. The 154th graduate was pregnant and the administration kept her from marching with the rest of us. That was one example of the prevailing culture in the small south New Jersey Township I lived in at the time. I escaped to California to attend college on an academic scholarship and into a very different culture. I haven’t left.

While there I met, married, and had a son with Mary. I found employment in a prominent high tech company where, within five years, I was in management. Between the salary, bonuses and stock options I was able to create an unusually good life in a very challenging environment. In those nineteen years I never strayed, or even thought of straying, on my wife and family – until last week.

About six months ago, I received an invitation to the 20th class reunion of my high school. For no reason, I was homesick for my old friends. I began to wonder where and how they all were. My thoughts returned frequently to the girl I almost married. I wondered what she was doing. I really wanted to go to the reunion.

Mary and I discussed attending the reunion at length. She had no desire to go. She didn’t know any of the people I graduated with and she couldn’t imagine what it might be like 2500 miles away from California. She had been born in California, raised in California, graduated high school and college in California, married in California and never wanted to leave California. She left little doubt that if I wanted to go to New Jersey, I would have to go alone.

On the other hand, I didn’t want to go alone. I wanted Mary along as a buffer between my old colleagues and me. I needed Mary with me to help fill the hours between the scheduled events and I wanted her to learn more about who I was before I met her.

She was adamant. She was not going. She didn’t trust anyone from the east coast. It was cold on the east coast. If I wanted to go, I should go, and go alone. She got that it was important to me even if she didn’t understand why. Eventually, she wore me down and made me promise to go without her.

The event was well organized. It was to be a three-day event. Friday evening was an informal gathering in a local watering hole where we could reconnect and update each other. Saturday included a tour of our old high school, including lunch, and a dinner dance at the nearby country club. Sunday included a joint church service, a luncheon and an afternoon ball game in Philadelphia. It seemed there was enough to fill my time so I, reluctantly, sent in my reservation with a check to cover all the events.

The reunion committee had also arranged for a block of rooms in the local Holiday Inn. I called and made a reservation for three nights, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I went on-line and arranged to fly to Philadelphia on Friday morning with a return Monday morning. Finally, I arranged for a rental car and time off on Friday and Monday. I was all set.

Mary seemed happy that I was going to the reunion. While it had no appeal for her she knew it did for me. She assured me she would be fine while I was gone. She said it was just like any other business trip I took except it would be over a weekend.

Thursday I packed casual clothing and one business suit for the dinner. Before dawn on Friday I reluctantly left the house, got into the airport limo, and went to San Jose for my flight. Including the connection in Chicago, I spent almost 8 hours flying to Philadelphia. I arrived just after five pm, picked up my luggage, rented a car and drove an hour to the Holiday Inn. After freshening up a little, I drove to the gin mill where the reunion was to begin.

I arrived at the bar about seven-thirty. There were already a few folks that could have been my classmates, present. The place brought back a few memories. Back in the day, we would hang out in the restaurant, ordering hamburgers, fries and cokes. On occasion, if the right bartender was working, we might also score a beer or two. It was also the place I would go with Carol for a bite to eat after a movie at the theater just around the corner.

I maneuvered up to the bar and ordered a bottle of Yuengling. I got the beer, left a twenty on the bar in front of me, and turned around to face the room. I realized I was standing next to Jimmy Calhoun. Jimmy had been our fall quarterback and outstanding spring pitcher. He had been good enough at both sports to play varsity in sophomore year. Several colleges and one major league baseball team had scouted him. The expected scholarship never materialized and finances prevented him from going to college. Before I left for California, I heard he had gone to work at the local lumberyard.

I tapped him on the shoulder and introduced myself. “Hi Jimmy, remember me? Jack Olsen.”

It was clear he didn’t. casino siteleri We exchanged a few polite words but it was also clear his interest was on an over sexed blonde seated at a nearby table. After a minute or two, I said, “Take it easy Jimmy. I’m going to wander around a little and see who’s here.” I picked up my change, left two dollars for the bartender, and moved around the bar and into the room.

As I threaded my way around the room, I greeted a half dozen of my former classmates. Most didn’t have a clue as to who I was, and the last remembered me as “that geek who screwed up the grading curve.” None of them made me glad I had come to the reunion. However, I was determined to stick it out. I was there for a reason even if I didn’t know what it was.

I eventually bumped into Roger Moore. He was another high school geek and we had something in common. We competed in most of the advanced math classes and were friends the rest of the time. Roger and I spent time together because few others wanted to spend time with us. We weren’t close, but we were what we had. For most of high school, it had been Roger, Kim and I. We were all in the advanced classes and we were all not part of the “in” groups. Of the three of us, I was the only one with a love interest. When we were together, they ribbed me about it. Twenty years later Roger shared that, he had envied me for my romantic relationship.

Roger and I talked for a while and then I moved on. Eventually, after renewing strained relationships with several other classmates, I wandered past a table on the way to the restroom. I pondered over the identity of the woman sitting alone at the table as I stood in front of the urinal. On the way back I remembered her. It was Kim Booth. The same Kim Booth that Roger and I hung with in high school. The Kim Booth I knew was a little overweight, had short unkempt hair, and wore baggy clothes, black sneakers and oversized black framed glasses. This Kim Booth was strikingly beautiful. Long, scapula length, auburn hair, little black dress covering a slender body, magnificent breasts and obscenely perfect legs ending in black pumps. As I passed the table, I questioned, “Kim?”


“I almost didn’t recognize you. You look fantastic. If I had known twenty years ago that underneath the baggy clothes there was a real swan I’d have made a move on you.”

“If you had made a move on me I would have jumped at the chance. I envied your relationship with Carol and fantasized me in her place.”

I sat at the table with her. We discussed our relationship twenty years ago. We had a common characteristic that kept us together. We were overly bright. We couldn’t hide it and it made us outcasts. What brought us together also kept us apart. We daren’t risk the fragile bond we had.

We didn’t flaunt it but others noticed we were somehow different and treated us like lepers. Only Carol defied convention. My relationship with her bothered some people and angered others. No matter what they thought, or how they acted, she persisted. She told them I was just a regular guy. She told me she loved me. Eventually, they cautiously allowed her to join their activities, but never with me. Carol existed in two worlds, theirs and mine.

Inevitably, Kim inquired about my relationship with Carol and how it continued after graduation. I told her we didn’t make it to the end of that summer. When she pressed for more detail, I explained that Carol had gotten pregnant. Once I’d said that the rest came quickly. “I believed the baby to be mine and asked her to marry me. She declined, saying she knew I was destined for great things and she didn’t want to be a distraction. She insisted that marriage and a child would derail me from further education and a good job. She thought that, over time, I would resent her and the baby and it would end badly for everyone. I pressed the issue all summer, until August, when I had to leave for college in California. We couldn’t sustain a long distance relationship. When I came home for Thanksgiving, I discovered Carol had put the baby up for adoption and disappeared. I tried to find her but, eventually, the pressure of school and the distance limited my ability to track her down. By the beginning of my sophomore year, I stopped looking for her and by junior year, stopped thinking about her. When I got the invitation to the reunion, I was drawn to come. I didn’t know why. I rationalized that seeing Carol again was the reason. I was wrong. I had to come to see you, Kim.”

“Dave, I’m so sorry. I really thought you and Carol had something real. And, I’m flattered that you wanted to see me.”

“Honestly, I’m delighted to see you. It just hit me now that you’re the only reason I came to the reunion. Something deep inside me been hidden for twenty years and now it’s out. Tell me more about who you’ve become and what you’ve been doing for two decades.”

Kim quickly filled me in. She’d attended MIT and earned canlı casino masters in theoretical mathematics and a doctorate in physics. She was a full professor at Princeton. She was deeply involved in her research and never married. “I only came to this reunion because I hoped to meet you.”

How was I supposed to react to that? I brought her up to date about me. “I received a Masters in Computer Technology. Both hardware engineering and software design.” I told her I was working for a tech startup with enormous potential, I was financially better off than anyone ever deserved to be and, finally, I was married with a son. “I’m amazed to know we were looking for each other even if I didn’t know it until just this minute.”

The rest of the evening was magical. It was if we had never parted. We talked and laughed as if we were the only ones in the room, until we were. As we left, I inquired about where she was staying. She told me she was going home since she was just a few minutes up the road. Neither of us had a partner for the Saturday dinner-dance so we decided to go as a couple. We cheek kissed good-bye and headed for our own vehicles. At the hotel, I didn’t sleep well that night. I kept asking myself what the hell I was doing? I was a married man swooning over another woman as if I was a teenager.

Saturday morning I went to the old high school for the scheduled tour. Kim didn’t show. I tried not to show my disappointment. We met a few of the teachers who were still there. Mr. Swanson, the math teacher, remembered me and we had a short discussion about how I’d turned out. We toured the new addition, now nine years old. The playing field and track were still there and still in mediocre condition. My only original thought was that it appeared they had lowered the water fountains. I didn’t remember having to bend so low to drink.

After the tour, we went to the cafeteria for lunch. It was still the same. Same Formica tables. Same plastic chairs. We waited in line for chicken fingers, raw carrots and an eight-ounce carton of milk. I took my tray and gravitated to the same table I ate at for four years so long ago. Roger was already there. It was just the two of us. Nothing had changed. Back then, it had only been the three of us.

Roger shared that he had attended Rutgers in New Brunswick and now a manager for an insurance company in Philadelphia. He had married a girl from Edison he met at Rutgers and had two kids, one girl and one boy, a home, two cars, garden and white picket fence. He felt he had built the American dream. I minimized my education and employment. I shared I was married, had a son and was living in California. I didn’t mention Kim.

After lunch, I returned to the Holiday Inn for a nap and to get ready for the dinner at the country club. I was just straightening my tie when the room phone rang. When I picked it up it was Kim. She confirmed we were going as a couple to the dinner and then told me she was in the lobby waiting for me. I grabbed my jacket and met Kim in the lobby. We drove to the country club together. Kim drove.

The dinner was exceptionally good. There were approximately ninety graduates in attendance. About half of them had brought their spouses, significant others or a date. The class officers reminded us of who they were and took bows for organizing the weekend. Surprisingly, the conversation at our table was polite and even a little humorous. We were seated together, after Kim exchanged the seating card with a person at a nearby table. Mr. Swanson was seated with us, as was Roger. The other four people at the table were among the few who occasionally spoke to us in school and were even friendlier than I expected. The conversation was animated, except for Roger who, after he realized who Kim was, became somewhat antisocial.

When the band arrived and the music started, Kim took my hand and let me to the dance floor. The band’s repertoire was mostly twenty years old dance music mixed with a reasonable number of slow numbers. Kim and I stayed on the floor for the entire first set. Remembering the steps for the old dances was a challenge and the slow dances even a greater challenge. Holding Kim close, moving slowly to the music, awakened sleeping desires in me. I took advantage of every opportunity to hold her tighter and more closely. By the end of the last dance, I could feel her breath on my neck and I was fighting to keep my erection a secret.

When we returned to the table, Roger was gone, as were two of the others. I got us each a drink and some water and we recuperated while the band took its break. We danced the second set in its entirety. It was nearly ten o’clock when it was over and we returned to an empty table. We took that as a hint and we headed for Kim’s car.

She drove me back to the hotel. I got out of the car. So did Kim. When I looked at her questioningly, she said, “The night’s still young. I thought we might have a night cap together.”

The kaçak casino Holliday Inn didn’t have a lounge, so we walked next door to an Irish bar. The atmosphere was dark with deep walnut paneling, nice booths and a friendly waitress. Kim ordered a snifter of brandy and I changed my order to match hers. I also ordered some nachos to snack on. Imagine that, nachos in an Irish bar. Over time, the conversation got progressively more personal. Kim moved over to my side of the booth so our legs were touching and we could talk, and touch, in privacy. After three snifters each it was near midnight. I asked for the check and left twice the tip I should have.

Back at Kim’s car in the hotel parking lot, we paused. Kim gave all the signals and I leaned in and kissed her. Between the brandy and the kiss, I think my feet came off the ground. I had never experienced a kiss that gentle and that erotic. A moment later, when we both opened our eyes, Kim asked, “I don’t think I should drive. Do you care if I bunk with you tonight?”

The idea had occurred more that once to me during the evening but I was chicken to raise the subject and here was Kim, as always, taking the initiative.

“I thought you’d never ask.

“I thought you’d never offer.

“I wouldn’t have. Just like old times. But, now that you mention it, I think it would be an excellent idea. You being unable to drive and all.”

“Aren’t you the romantic?

“Not in the parking lot. Let’s go upstairs and see if I can muster up a more appropriate response.”

We entered the hotel lobby holding hands as if we were still high schoolers. Our smiles and demeanor must have been infectious since the receptionist gave us a wide smile as well. In the elevator we kissed quickly, as if we were being watched and might get caught. At my room, I opened the door and held it open for Kim to enter first. Once inside I tossed my jacket on a nearby chair and turned to face Kim.

Kim took my face in her hands and planted a passionate and erotic kiss on me. The kiss had want and desire all over it. Her body language was expressive and I struggled to understand what she wanted. When I reached behind her neck and found the top of the zipper of her dress she relaxed. I knew I had interpreted her want correctly and gave myself a small pat on the back. I moved the zipper slowly down her spine, prolonging the kiss, until I reached the top of her cheeks. I pulled the top of her dress sideways off her shoulders and she shrugged the top of the dress down. When we separated a little the dress fell completely to the floor and she stepped out of it. I reluctantly broke the kiss and took a step backward. Kim was wearing only a black bra, black bikini panties and black high heels. I stepped back to her and kissed her again. I was hoping my body language adequately conveyed my approval.

As we kissed again, Kim reached behind her back and unclipped her bra. Only the pressure of our bodies as we kissed kept the bra from falling to the floor with her dress. This time, Kim took a step back and the bra fell free. I was speechless. I couldn’t imagine more perfect breasts. They were large, firm and round with perfect, erect rose colored nipples. I stepped up and took her right nipple in my mouth.

At that point, everything happened in high gear. I seconds Kim undressed me, moved me to the bed, kicked off her heels, pulled her panties off and climbed on top of me. There was no waiting. I was ready. She lowered herself onto me and we began another dance that I hoped would never end.

But end it did. As Kim lay breathing heavily beside me, I turned and kissed her again. This time it was the kiss of satisfied lovers. A long, happy kiss full of the promise of more to come. Kim took a quick bathroom break and returned to lie beside me. I kissed her forehead, ears, nose, lips, chin and neck. As I kissed down her chest I lingered for a time on her breasts. When I continued lower I could feel her anticipation. When I reached her neatly trimmed triangle, I ran my fingers, and then my nose, through the curls. I continued down as Kim moved her legs further apart and raised her knees.

Oral stimulation of a willing woman is one of the most delightful activities I can imagine. It is the only activity that simultaneously involves all five senses. The sight of a woman’s genitals invokes many images, beginning with the tight pucker of her rectal sphincter. Above there is the rose pink of her outer labia that, when unfolded, reveal the deeper pink of her inner labia. Beyond the inner labia is the bright pink of her vaginal lining. Further up is the flesh colored hood covering her darker clitoris. And, it’s all crowned with the dark triangle of curly hair. It is truly a magnificent sight.

Touching her soft fleshy folds is an experience not found anywhere else. From the tightness of her sphincter, to the hardness of her clitoris and everything in between there are many gifts for the sensitive lover. The feel of her labia as you gently separate them and reach the warm dampness of the inner woman is beyond description. You can feel her pulse as you explore her womanhood. You cannot forget the moment you first touch a woman.

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