In the past few months I have found myself missing my high school “girlfriend” more than ever. That wouldn’t be odd for a 19 year old, but I am in my mid-30s. I haven’t even seen Mary in over ten years. Nonetheless, I have missed her, in varying degrees, for two decades.
Mary was the first woman I fell in love with, and the only woman I have ever truly loved. (In all senses of the word. I have since had friends and lovers, but never have I found the two qualities in the same person.) She was a girl when we first met, but she defied juvenile classification. Mary has always been a woman. Not only that, she has always been my goddess. Not a goddess in the cheap, modern, bumper sticker sense, but a true goddess.
Mary’s intelligence intimidated most males, and she intellectually out dueled all who challenged her. Her mental toughness impressed me, but it was her originality and femininity that drew me to her. From the first, we fell into easy conversation that surpassed that I have found in any other relationship I have had.
Quite simply, there is no one like Mary. I found her beautiful, not because she fit a specific body type or look, but because her whole being inflamed me, and kept me up nights. I loved her personality and her presence in my life. As a result, I fell in love with her body. It became a temple beckoning me to worship.
Physically, Mary set the standard for beauty as far as I was concerned, but she also became the muse that has continued to inspire me for 20 years. She taught me to walk apart from the crowd, to explore music, art and culture. She walked her own unique path, though, and also appreciated Punk Rock and kinky double entendres.
In high school our physical relationship never went beyond kissing, but I immediately knew hers as the perfect kiss. The problem was that I didn’t know how I could continue to suppress my desire to explore, and love, her entire body.
Before too long Mary let me know that she too wanted to make love. I got scared. I was an adolescent, scared of taking that step, and scared of disappointing her. I made the biggest mistake of my life. I broke it off.
Mary transferred to another school, but we kept in touch, and down deep I assumed we would one day end up together. Before leaving for college, I visited Mary one last time. We took a late night walk through a vineyard.
A nostalgic walk quickly resulted in me touching her breasts, and caressing her bottom, thighs and mound. It was my first time experiencing this type of intimacy with a woman, but I felt at home with her. I felt one with her.
At my touch, her small breasts came alive, her nipples begged to be sucked, and her penetrated. Instead we settled for holding each other, and feeling our heart’s race. For the remainder of our time together that night, her body heaved against me, and my cock ached in delight.
In college we both pursued random infatuations. We kept in touch by occasional phone calls, but that was it. Mary found men who were gifted at pleasing her physically, but she always sounded lonely when we talked. I, on the other hand, searched for romance and passion, but instead found women who seemed vacuous in comparison to Mary. Gifted authors, great music ... everything reminded me of her.
When I touched myself I found that, in my very real fantasies, it was her lithe body I was making love to. Every time my cock strained, and my nipples engorged with blood, I found myself longing for her. My hands ran across my stomach, but in my mind it was her stomach I was touching. I would smell her freshly scented body, and could feel her back arch in my hands.
But I also began to long for what I had never enjoyed in high school. Her nipples between my lips and tongue. Hardening tits that soon demanded to be sucked and pulled by my subservient mouth. I dreamt of her ass in my hands. Her cunt pushed up against my face, driving into me, dripping passion down my cheeks.
In my mouth I could feel Mary’s clitoris growing under the massage of my grateful tongue. Her soft, but slender thighs embraced my face, and her teeth ground into my upturned palm.
I tried other fantasies, but they always faded away with images of some woman pleasing me. With Mary I certainly desired pleasure, but the thought of pleasing her is what kept me up at night.
During one of our phone calls, Mary admitted she had been with another woman. A close friend. This might excite some men, but I was heartbroken. The love of my life a lesbian? I wept with the thought that I wouldn’t be able to please her.
Mary insisted that her attraction to women was based on friendship, and that our relationship was the most important in her life. My fragile ego couldn’t take it, though. I longed for Mary, but I was scared of being relegated to second place. She had never lied to me, though, and my keeping her at a distance emotionally was a mistake.
Upon graduation, we decided that I should fly and visit her. It was proposed as a safe weekend together as friends.
When Mary picked me up at the airport, though, my heart gave way with emotion. My chest ached, my mouth went dry. It was obvious to me that this woman was my partner, and that I could not be her mere “friend.” My pride refused to let me share this thought with her, though.
At my hotel room she kept dodging my lame advances, and I assumed this was due to the fact that she was over me. The weekend ended without the sexual abandon I had hoped for.
When I returned home, I found a letter from Mary waiting for me. My hands trembled as I opened it, expecting a final brush off. I almost dropped the letter as I read the strong and creative handwriting that always demanded my full attention.
“Dear Sean, I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love you more than anyone or anything. I’m sobbing, and trying to keep my tears off the paper. I told myself I wouldn’t cry when I wrote this, but damn it, why shouldn’t I cry? I’m not going to play games with you. Don’t play games with me. Friendship won’t work. I want all of you. I want to fall asleep with you. I want to wake up with you. I want to read my poetry to you. The poetry that no one else understands. I want to stay up all night talking, laughing, crying. I want to hear you sigh my name, and tell me you love me in a voice which cannot be doubted.
"I want, I need, gentle nights of endless kisses. Your mouth and tongue on my neck, breasts, stomach and thighs.
"I also need it to be you that I completely abandon myself to. Abandonment that culminates in days and nights of merciless fucking. I need to rake your body with my nails, bite your fingers with my mouth, and have you plow into me while I demand to be fucked!
