Tell me a story: My wife wants another...
Well, as I wrote in "My wife wants to read my stories" my lovely bride Heather recently found out about this site and my role in the filling of its stores of stories. She was cool about it, but turned things around-asking for more stories about me and my past.
Now, keep in mind-we have been married for nearly five years, and I've been with her for nearly eleven. She knows about my former girlfriends and relationships, et al. However, when she learned about this site and the stories on it, she became intrigued. She not only wanted to know more about my past-she wanted to read it-she totally fell in love with erotic stories, and as long as I stay her favorite author, I'm pretty OK with that.
She liked my last story, but she wanted something different. She wanted me to go back further. Back to high school. Back to that just before college time of my life that in its own way was something interesting. Back to the first love of my life. The girl I spent a year and a half with during high school. Heather, for the first time wanted to hear about Tammy.
I love my wife. I truly do-more than I can effectively express. That said, there is no one like your first love, and in all of the important ways, Tammy was that for me. Although she is not a part of my life now, there is still that young man of my past that cares very deeply for that young woman that she was then.
Tammy was older than me. Most of the time we dated, she was in college, and I was finishing up high school, but there were some very nice times while we were in school together. So the question was: what story do I tell her? Do I write about the time we lay on the dock at the county park in broad daylight while I put my hand up her shorts and made her cum? Would I write about the weekend when I visited her at college? That would have to be a several part story... Would I write about that afternoon where we snuck into the Guidance office at school and she went down on me while I sat in her counselor's chair? Or perhaps that time that we were exploring that construction site late at night on a Saturday, and she grabbed me and threw me down into the dirt in what was to become a local high school? What would I write about?
Maybe I should write about our one year anniversary.
Neither Tammy nor I had been with someone for longer than a year, so the one-year anniversary was a pretty big deal to us. She was at college, but conveniently, the date fell in line with her spring break. We made big plans-we spent time with some friends early in the day, and then went to dinner in a private room at a swanky restaurant that my pal Jamie's just happened to own. I arranged for the royal treatment in every way-we had a waiter who worked only for us, a room to ourselves, and a room at the adjoining hotel for the evening, should it be needed. As it turns out, it wasn't.
We had our dinner and took our damn sweet time with it. We had a number of courses, a violin showed up on occasion-not too often though were my instructions-after a while, it gets a bit awkward. It was an awesome night. After dinner, we got in the car and drove to a spot where we used to go and talk-Foley's Field. It was actually a baseball field utilized by the community baseball teams. I had a blanket in the back and a candle. We walked out to Center Field and I lay the blanket down, lit the candle and we watched the stars.
I held her in my arms and we reminisced about the past year. We had met in school, obviously, but did not get together until we went on a school trip to Germany. It was an amazing trip, and we really connected. In fact, when we landed, we introduced one another to our parents and caused quite a stir with them to say the least.
We talked and held and as the candle flickered, I moved to her and we kissed. It was the kind of kiss that one has with someone that provides that romantic security that you've dreamed of, but not yet tasted until that moment. That is what the first true love brings, and one must drink it up when it does.
She kissed me and we undressed-bit my bit-there was no rush-the stars weren't going anywhere and neither were we. Tammy was beautiful: she had long Strawberry Blond hair, her body a tall, curvaceous one that nearly matched my height. We felt each other and our breath mixed in that way that speaks only of the urgency of young passion.
I kissed her lips, her ear, her neck, and I worked my way down her body. I leaned over her and kissed my way to her breasts-full and soft, they responded to my mouth with pert attention. Her breath came in labored fashion and I continued lower-I kissed her belly. Her hips. Her thighs. One after the other I ran my tongue along them and worked my way towards her.
