Carry a Torch for Most of My Life

Obligatory Disclaimer: The people in this story are real, but their names have been changed. This is a work of fiction; I wrote it to purge myself of an unhealthy obsession. While there is sexual content, I view this as therapeutic writing first and foremost; I'm indulging a fantasy and letting go of it at the same time. The title and final lines of this story are taken from the song "Fever" by the band Starsailor.

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For over a year, I'd been dealing with a very serious addiction. It wasn't drugs, alcohol, or sex; it was a deep, sick obsession with a person who certainly did not remember ever knowing me. I couldn't tell him how attracted I was to him, how utterly perfect he was. Instead, I performed your basic childish activities, such as calling his apartment and hanging up, driving by his home, calling his workplace to see if he'd answer, etc. I did other things: I knocked over his trashcan to see what he'd thrown away. I wrote down his license plate number and emailed it to him. I sent various insane sexual emails. I sent anonymous email-cards on Halloween and his birthday. I left flowers on his car.

He was a graduate teaching assistant in the Philosophy department at my University; I had been his student over a year earlier. He wasn't that much older than me; I was 20 at the time, and he was 27, but he looked a little younger than that. He had dark blue eyes, dark blonde hair, and the sweetest smile imaginable. The moment I realized he was the TA for my class, I was in love. I participated a lot in class; I went to his office hours 4 times. I got an "A" for the course, and that would have been the end of it, but I couldn't let go, and I couldn't tell him how incredibly attracted I was to him. So a year passed, and still I was stalking him, without him having any idea who was leaving him strange gifts and sending him bizarre emails.

To make my stalking even easier, he just so happened to live one street away from me; I could walk to his apartment in 8 minutes. I also spent a lot of time in the building on campus where the Philosophy TA office was, sot here were frequent encounters which I was aware of, but he was not. He just thought I was another student sitting on the bench; he had no idea I would sit there for hours waiting to see him pass by. He apparently did not recognize me as a former student; I could do as I wished without being noticed.

There was a coffee shop less than a block from his apartment (and since I lived one street away from him, the coffee shop was within easy walking distance for me, as well). I had quite a penchant for mochas, so I spent a lot of time at the coffee shop. I would order a large mocha, and sit down to read, write, or people watch. I usually sat by the window, because then I could see if his car left his street, or if he was driving home from campus.

One summer, just a little over a year after I'd taken his class, I was sitting in the coffee shop on a particularly hot and nasty afternoon. I was drinking an extra large iced mocha and writing poetry in my notebook. For once, I was not paying attention to the cars driving outside; I was feeling rather pensive, and my only desire was to create something of worth from the weighty solitude clouding my head.

As I furiously scrawled some random lines about unrequited love, I heard a voice above me: "Excuse me; I'm sorry to bother you, but you look really familiar."

I jerked my head up in alarm, but felt no surprise, because I had recognized his voice. It was Eric, the target of my secret affections. I stared at him for a moment, stuck somewhere between fascinated adoration and frozen terror. I didn't know how to respond; I couldn't breathe. I ended up sitting at my table in silence, staring up at him with large eyes.

"I didn't mean for that to sound like pick-up line; sorry. You really do look familiar," he said with an air of embarrassment. He turned to leave.

"Wait," I whispered, my voice cracking. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but I couldn't let him walk away, not after all the time I'd spent covertly pursuing him."

"Yes?"

"Maybe I look familiar from campus," I sputtered. "Do you go to XSU?"

As if I didn't know the answer.

"I do," he smiled. "I'm a graduate student, but you look sort of young to be in graduate school. I teach in the Philosophy department, though; were you ever my student?"

My face grew extremely warm as I tried to decide how to answer his simple, innocent question. I didn't want to admit to having been his student; in one of the anonymous emails I had sent him, I told him that his stalker was one of his former students. On the other hand, if he actually did remember me being in his class, and I denied it, he would catch me in a lie. And why would I lie about having been his student unless I had something to hide?

I looked at him for a moment; there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. He was not trying to trap me into admitting anything; he was asking an honest, genuine question.

"No, I haven't taken any Philosophy classes yet," I lied quickly, before he could notice how much thought I had put into my answer.

He smiled. "That's not really surprising; most students aren't very eager to take Philosophy classes."

"I like Philosophy," I said, desperate to please him (and it wasn't a lie, either; I planned to declare a major in Philosophy eventually, for reasons that had nothing to do with him).

Eric smiled again, and there was an uncomfortable pause. I was still sitting in my chair, notebook open, iced mocha partially gone. Eric stood across the table from me, a fruit smoothie in his hand. I took a deep breath...

"Do you want to sit down?" I asked meekly.

Such a beautiful smile! "Thank you." He sat down across from me.

Another awkward moment of silence. I forced myself to drink a sip of my mocha, despite the butterflies assaulting my entrails. Eric played with the straw in his glass for what seemed like centuries, before breaking the silence.

"My name's Eric."

It was hard not to laugh at how utterly unaware he was.

"I'm Sophie."

"From there, our conversation grew warm and friendly. We talked about life at XSU, future career goals, movies, literature, and social issues. I couldn't believe this was happening; I was having coffee and talking with the TA I'd been stalking for over a year, and he had no idea who I was. I was in Heaven.

A couple of hours later, silence fell upon us again. Eric leaned across the table a little, his voice even quieter than usual; his words melted my insides.

"I don't usually do things like this, but my apartment is right across the street. Do you want to come over?"

I stifled a giggle; the irony and pathos of this whole sorry mess was truly laughable. Obviously, I wanted nothing more than to go home with him. However, I had been stalking him for quite some time now, and he had no idea that I was the guilty party. To sleep with him (which was clearly what he was implying), without him knowing that I was the one who had been more or less terrorizing him, would be so dishonest, so evil... But I couldn't say no.

"Okay," I whispered.

We left the coffee shop, and I had to pretend not to know which car was his. The 3 minute drive to his apartment felt like 3 hours. Neither of us said much on the way; I can't remember a word of it. I was too focused on the tense feeling between my thighs and the guilty feeling in my soul.

As we got out of his car, he said: "You look kind of pale; are you sure you want to do this? If you don't, it's okay; I understand."

My heart fluttered in my throat: "No, I want to. This is all just kind of new to me..."

"Me, too... This isn't like me at all. I've never brought a woman to my apartment so soon; I just sense something about you, something I can't really define... And please don't think that's just a line to get you into bed, because it's not...."

This was so much better than even my favorite fantasies about Eric... I wished more than anything that I hadn't spent over a year secretly stalking him, though, because as sweet as this day was, it was tainted by a horrible sense of guilt and responsibility.

He had no idea that I was the one who'd been harassing him. I had a responsibility to tell him; he deserved to know that the girl he was about to sleep with was his obsessed former student. But if I told him, he would be so disappointed and disgusted... He'd be out of his mind to have sex with me if he knew what I had done.

The guilt and shame were so strong... But my lust was stronger. I kept silent about my childish, unhealthy activities.

We walked up the back steps to his apartment, and he unlocked the door. I walked in after him; we were standing in his kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink?" He opened the refrigerator. "Let's see... I have Pepsi, Mountain Dew, milk, water, and beer."

"Pepsi would be good." I felt like I was going to faint. Was this real?

He poured a glass of Pepsi for me, and opened a bottle of beer for himself. I already knew he drank beer (I had seen empty bottles while looking in his trash can), but it was funny to actually see him drinking; he looked so innocent and naive.

I followed him into the living room, and we sat on the couch. I occupied myself by surveying my surroundings. On top of feeling quite guilty, I was incredibly terrified he would somehow find out my shameful secret. Plus, I was quite nervous; I was a virgin.

"Are you okay?" Eric asked.

I looked at him. He was so beautiful; his eyes were always full of such kindness. I felt like the most evil person in the world for deceiving him.

"There's something you should know..." I began quietly.

"What is it?" His facial expression showed concern, but no suspicion whatsoever.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't ruin the chance of fulfilling my deepest wishes.

"I've never had sex before; I'm a virgin," I blurted out. Not a lie, but not the most important truth in this situation, either.

"Oh." He looked slightly taken aback. "Well, we don't have to do anything. I don't want you to feel pressured. We can just sit and talk." He smiled gently.

"No," I shook my head. "I want to. I ... don't feel pressured. I want to."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to do anything you might regret; you don't really know me well, and your first time should be something very special."

"It will be," I whispered, my eyes lowered.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. My eyes were glued to my glass of Pepsi; I was unable to look at Eric. Suddenly, I felt him move slightly closer to me on the couch. I looked at him; hesitation was written all over his face. He took the glass from my hand and set it on the coffee table. He gently placed his hands on my shoulders and began to give me a massage.

It felt so good; I was very tense, and his hands were squeezing all the soreness out of my muscles. My heart began to thunder in my chest, and it was becoming rather difficult to breathe normally. I felt the secret place between my thighs tightening and growing moist with increased desire.

"How does it feel?" Eric whispered.

"Good..." I gasped, voice breaking.

One of his hands moved the hair off my shoulder, and I felt him leaning closer to me. His lips brushed my cheek before moving down to my neck. He tenderly kissed the place where my pulse beat with its excited force. He kissed and nibbled at my neck, his hands still working on my tense shoulders and back. I strained not to whimper; this was so perfect...

His hand touched my cheek, turning my face so it was mere inches from his own. Slowly, he moved closer, until his lips touched mine. He kissed me with infinite gentleness, and as good as it felt, I needed something more. I pressed my lips closer to his, forcing both of our mouths open. Unable to control myself, I slid my tongue in to meet his, and as our lips moved lustfully together, our tongues gently massaged each other.

I turned to face him completely, arms wrapping around his neck. He pulled me close to him, enveloping my body with his arms. I felt so safe and protected in his embrace; surely, this was meant to be! It didn't matter what sick and twisted things I had previously done; we were meant to be together.

He pulled away from me, and we were both left breathless. I stared into his eyes, absolutely stunned at the intensity of all this.

"I want you," he gasped.

Before I could respond, he had pulled me back into his arms, holding me even closer against him. As our lips devoured each other, I could feel his hardness against me. Immediately, my panties were completely soaked. I moaned softly against his mouth.

He broke the kiss, moving his mouth across my cheek. "Do you want to go into the bedroom?" He breathed against the sensitive folds of my ear.

"Yes," I whispered huskily.

We rose to our feet, and he took my hand, leading me down the hallway. Once we were in his bedroom, he took me into his arms again. We kissed, bodies straining against each other. His hand slid up the back of my shirt, and the feeling of his hand against my bare back caused me to gasp sharply. He began to pull my shirt upward, and we had to break our kiss so he could get the shirt over my head.

As soon as my shirt was off, he bent to kiss my chest. I put my hands behind my back, unfastening my bra. Eric quickly slid the straps off my arms, and my bra joined my shirt on the floor. It was an awkward position, because he was quite a bit taller than me. We moved to the bed and sat down. Immediately, his mouth was on one of my breasts, as he caressed the other with his hand.

I moved my hand between us, feeling my way down his torso until I felt the bulge in his pants. As soon as I touched him there, a tremor ran through his entire body. I slowly massaged his clothed erection; his mouth began to move more urgently against my breast, and he pressed his crotch closer to my hand.

Suddenly, he pulled away from me and quickly began removing his shirt. I stood up and unfastened my belt, letting my jeans fall down and kicking off my sandals. I looked at Eric, to see him following my lead; he stripped down to his boxers.

We stood there like shy children for a moment; I still wore my panties, and Eric still had on his boxers. Finally, he moved toward me, then surprised me by sitting down on the floor. Carefully, he reached up and began slowly removing my panties. Hours seemed to pass as my final item of clothing was removed; Eric was taking his time as he slid my panties down my legs. When they were at last around my ankles, he lifted my feet one at a time so that my panties were completely removed.

Eric leaned back to look up at me. "Sit down on the bed," he whispered.

I did as he requested, but to my surprise, he remained on the floor. I felt his hands caressing one of my legs, moving down to my ankle. He slid his hands back up, lifting my leg so that it was horizontal in the air. His eyes fixed on mine, Eric tenderly kissed my big toe. He did this a few more times, before actually taking my toe into his mouth and gently sucking on it. This went on for a little while; he would kiss each of my toes on both my feet, then suck on them. Occasionally, he would also lick the ticklish soles, making me giggle. It was a strange experience, but not exactly what I'd call unpleasant.

When he stood up again, I reached out to pull down his boxers. He stepped out of them, and I felt a little startled at the sight of his erection; as I've said, I was a virgin, so I was worried about pain.

He sat next to me on the bed, and our mouths met for more mutual exploration. One of Eric's hands was in my hair, and the other was caressing my back. I put one of my arms around his neck; my other arm was between our bodies. I tentatively began sliding my hand along the length of his penis. He tightened his grasp on a fistful of my hair, and his tongue moved harder against my own. Eventually, he reached down and moved my hand away from his manhood. I looked at him in confusion, but the intense look in his eyes told me exactly why he had stopped me.

He placed his hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me down on the bed. My heart pounded with a mixture of desperate longing and horrible fear. I did not yet need to worry about penetration, though, because he was moving down my body, his head going between my thighs.

"Oh, God..." I whispered.

"When his tongue touched my clitoris, an electric current began between my legs and quickly shot its way through my entire body. My hands were above my head, clinging tightly to the pillow. My chest rose and fell with a frenetic pace as I struggled to get enough oxygen. Eric alternated between slow, gentle licking and fast, forceful oral assault. I moaned and whimpered as I felt the throbbing sensations increase to an almost unbearable plateau. My whole body was trembling, when Eric abruptly stopped licking me.

"Are you going to cum soon?" he asked.

"Yes..." I panted.

Instead of burying his face between my legs again, he kissed his way up my body until he was directly on top of me. Our eyes were locked together.

"Do you want me inside you?" Eric whispered.

"Yes," I said with difficulty. "Please."

"If it hurts too much or if you want me to stop, please tell me, okay?"

His sincere gentleness warmed my heart, and I was flooded with guilty remembrance of my secret stalking. I forced those thoughts out of my conscious mind; I would have time for shame later.

I felt the head of his penis press against my virgin opening; I slowly took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel him slowly moving into me, painfully stretching me. Eric caressed my face with his hand and kissed my forehead. I opened my eyes to see him looking at me with deep concern.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?"

"No... Keep going..."

It felt so strange to have him inside me; my inner walls were confused by the stretching and by the foreign object sliding against them. I was wet, though, and aroused enough that the stretching sensation wasn't entirely painful. My vaginal muscles contracted slightly, helping to pull Eric all the way into me.

Now Eric's eyes were closed. When he opened them, there was a look of dazed surprise on his face.

"What's wrong?" I demanded, a little breathless.

Eric shook his head slowly, and I noticed that his breathing was becoming increasingly irregular.

"Nothing..." He took a deep, shaky breath. "Sophie, you're really... tight..."

He closed his lips over mine and began sliding in and out of me. I dug my nails into his shoulders as my body remembered how close it had been to a massive climax just minutes earlier. We were both covered in sweat, muscles in knots. Our bodies were pressed together and trembling. Eric's movements inside me made me even wetter as my inner muscles tightened and released rhythmically. I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding his as close to me as possible. I whimpered softly.

His thrusts became more forceful and urgent; he tightened his arms around my body as our eyes held and intense, deep gaze. We were both panting slightly. I felt my muscles tightening to the breaking point, my clitoris burning and throbbing of its own accord. I was almost there....

"Eric..." I gasped his name as the tension released and a million unbearable pulses flowed through my quaking body.

Eric pounded into me even harder, eyes squeezed shut as he softly groaned. I felt increased moisture inside me, and realized that he had cum. Breathless, Eric opened his eyes.

"That was so good... Oh, Sophie..."

He kissed me with tender passion, and I wanted to cry.

He rolled off of me. He still held me in his arms; my head rested on his chest. Completely spent and exhausted, we fell asleep, bodies still entwined.