I took regular long walks after Rita left. Along river banks, around the bay, down country lanes, occasionally through the throngs of people in the city centre. For the first month my mind was closed to everything around me. But gradually the cry, "Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!" stopped running through my head. At work I buried myself in the copywriting for the advertising firm I worked for. Sometimes I could do this work at home and this gave my scope for daytime walks. Relaxing at home I either read or watched occasional television. In both cases I avoided love scenes.
In time my thinking became one of relief. Relief that, in spite of ten years together, we had never married or had children. It was bad enough that she had just upped and took off with a guy who had a bank balance that could have bought a battle fleet, but her final barb had taken a long time to throw off.
"It's not the money, Chris. Gordon makes me explode."
"Didn't I have that effect on you?"
"Only occasionally."
"So all those other bodily spasms were play acting?"
"It's different with Gordon."
I was angry enough to want to slap her. But I didn't. I'd always considered myself a considerate lover, once I'd learned the ropes. To be compared unfavourably hurts. So I was satisfied to put her betrayal down to the money..
Even when my initial wrath subsided I continued to take my long walks. So it was that sunny Thursday afternoon that I found myself on the promenade above the small bay I usually skirted..
It being such a fine day I was surprised to find the beach fairly quiet. A walk along the water's edge seemed appealing. So I started down the steps.
As I descended I picked out a couple of small family clusters, with kids running in and out of the sea, flicking water at each other. Why weren't those kids at school? Further away near the rocks a stout man in shorts was standing at the water's edge as though daring himself to plunge in. A couple of lovers were further back, he leaning against a rock, she in a bikini, with her bare back snuggled against his chest. Ah, yes, I remember it well!
More centrally a blonde haired lady in a bikini lay on her front, head to one side, and even from this distance I could see the large sunglasses she was wearing. As I reached the sand I also noticed that she had unhooked the bra to ensure an overall back tan.
My feet sank into the dry sand and I made a beeline for the tidal mark that was the beginning of the harder sand for easier strolling.
My route took me towards the prone blonde lady. Not deliberately, just chance. And such chances sometimes govern the events of our lives.
As I neared the blonde two of the kids playing in the sea, came racing up the beach yelling at each other. And I saw that the splashing they had been doing in the sea had been with water pistols.
I don't know whether it was by accident or on purpose but they stopped on either side of the blonde Wincing, I could see exactly what was going to happen. Maybe I could have called out a warning, but if I was wrong, my efforts could be misunderstood.
Sure enough the boys turned to each other, and opened fire. I wasn't surprised to see their ammunition fall well short of their respective targets, and splash across the bare back of the sunbather. I was only a couple of metres away as, with a cry, she lurched up from the shock of the cold water, without any immediate thought of cover. So, for a brief instant, I found myself viewing a neat pair of pink tipped breasts. The kids had raced away to the haven of the family group.
In spite of the sunglasses I knew she was aware that I had observed her revelations, and in an effort to be gallant, I smiled, shrugged and said, "If you've seen one you've seen them all."
Scrambling to refit her bikini top, she gasped, "Yes, but I've got two."
A cool response in the circumstances I thought, as she sat back with her legs tucked under her. I sensed, in spite of the massive eye-shades, that she was staring at me, and her next words startled me.
"Chris?--Is it--?" And as she spoke she removed the sunglasses revealing the light blue eyes, which along with the faint smile of recognition on those full lips, lit up her face in a way that the years had not disguised.
"Linda? My God, it is you." My mind was instantly churning up long dead images. I had actually stroked those breasts. But recalling the events of last time we met made me cringe a little. "You've hardly changed."
Okay. Maybe there were a couple of lines around those eyes, but nothing that impinged on the overall appeal of her appearance.
She came quickly to her feet, revealing her flat belly and curvaceous waist.
"Now stop the exaggeration. It was fourteen years ago. But you look good."
"What happened to America?" I asked.
"Long story," she said, her face darkening just a little, the eyes becoming more hooded.
Trying to untangle my meshing thoughts I said, indicating the café at the back of the beach, "Should we have a coffee?"
"Just let me get dressed," she said, reaching for a pair of jeans that lay on her towel.
"I'll go and order---latte, isn't it?"
Her smile was as welcome as the cooling breeze, "You remember!"
"Well, it was only fourteen years ago."
"Unsweetened," she added as she began stepping into her jeans.
"Ah, some things do change, then."
"Have to take care," she laughed, patting her midriff.
That kind of care was certainly working, I thought, as I hurried up the beach. Her figure was absolutely stunning. More shapely and curvaceous than I remembered it. And those lips. Oh, yes, those lips. The first lips to close, ever so briefly, around my erect penis.
Seated at a table overlooking the beach, I could watch Linda packing up her gear. Admiring her lithe movements, I unwillingly recalled the shame of that last time we had together.
We had begun seeing each other in the latter months of High School. Nervous dates, uncertain kisses. We were two virgins on the brink of a life's promise. In those first months we had built a close bonding. Our interests were similar. We went to movies, talked about books or sports, enjoyed walks in the country. Yet our physical intimacies were slow and tentative. She had informed me from our early days together that she was determined to keep her virginity until she was twenty one. She had no specific reason.
"It's just a whim," she had said. "When it happens it will be a big occasion"
I, being limited in experience myself, couldn't complain. I did have visions of myself being classed as a perfect lover. But I needed time and experience to achieve that. Okay, I was just a little disappointed, but she was so beautiful I wasn't going to back away.
So it was nervously, uncertainly, after a few dates, that I squeezed her breasts through her sweater, and after three months was bold enough to savour the uncovered perfection of them. Sometime after the bad news, during one of our more heated sessions, my hands had wandered to her inner thigh to stray upwards and feel the mound beyond her panties and her breathing had quickened at that.
For her part, she was the first to introduce her tongue to mine, and that had been an electrifying sensation. Her hands eventually teased over my bulge, making little circles over it, while I held my breath. And she, like me, after we knew the worst, found her way inside and gripped my over eager erection. Nothing else, just gripped it. Never knowing how close that brought me to the edge
The bad news broke after we'd been dating for four months. Her father's job was taking them to America, a lucrative position that could not be refused. Without Linda knowing about it he had been in touch with a university over there that would reserve her a place on receipt of her educational and sporting background. Linda had been exceptionally adept at badminton and hockey, and her examination results were expected to be first class. So no obstructions were expected on that score.
That last day, before she left, we took a picnic out to Blackmore Woods, to a little grassy clearing that we called our own. We ate heartily on the chicken drumsticks, crispy rolls and doughnuts all of which she had prepared. Then we quickly fell into each others arms and kissed wildly for a very long time, as though it was the last day of the world. I was stroking the subtle groove in her panties which quickly moistened, while she slid her hand inside my jeans to find my achingly rampant penis. She had stroked it gently and I felt my scrotum start to bubble.
It was then, quite unexpectedly, she whispered, "I want to do something special for you, so you'll remember me." And without further warning she bent and her lips closed around my penis. No tongue. No other movement, other than those lips forming a firm 'O' around my erection. And even though I would learn with the passage of time that this was the offering of a beginner, nowhere near a full blowjob, it was sufficient for my impassioned state, as, within seconds I knew my body was going to let me down, felt my scrotum evacuate and the force of it engorging my penis.
"Linda!" I gasped, my hand on her forehead to withdraw her. All too late. Too much excitement, too little warning. I spurted before she could release me and she gave a little grunt as she drew back and I saw the whiteness trailing from her lips, before another spurt from my now freed penis sent a line of cum across her face.
I wanted the ground to swallow me. I reached for a napkin, seeing her mouth and tongue reacting to an unwelcome taste, and dripping whiteness. Her eyes blinked at me in surprise as I dabbed at her streaked face.
She sat up and picked up a tissue herself and wiped it around her mouth, spitting into it.
"I'm so sorry, Linda--I haven't---"
"Funny taste," she said at first but then, as we cleaned her up she asked, "I've only read about it. Was it good for you?"
I held her close, "Would have been if I'd had the strength. It's embarrassing."
"Don't worry about it. Practice makes perfect." Realising that there wasn't going to be any time for practice, her lip puckered and she began to cry.
We lay there in a pathetic huddle until the light began to fade. We kissed desperately at her front door and agreed to write regularly. "Not emails---real letters," she insisted, and I agreed.
Over my first year in university I received four letters from her, all loving, all full of enthusiasm for her new home town and life there. The fifth letter was to tell me she was going out with someone, nothing serious. There was a long wait before her sixth letter arrived telling me she was engaged.
It hurt, and I went out and very deliberately stopped being a virgin---a girl with generous breasts and more than generous thighs. I didn't write back, but along with my studies I plunged into as many willing girls as time would allow. Honing my education on two fronts, I told myself.
Two cups of latte were placed on the table as I watched Linda coming up the beach. In jeans and a white blouse she looked every bit as delectable as she had in the bikini. She moved with an easy, sensuous grace, and just watching the way the breeze played with her blond hair, and pressed her white blouse tight across her breasts created a familiar swelling in my pants.
"Amazing us meeting like this. I'm so glad to see you again," The look in her azure blue eyes and the way she smiled at me as she sat down told me she meant it.
"You've changed," I told her.
Her head tilted questioningly, "Oh, yes?"
