From Benjamin Dornier's Journal
Monday, July 19, 1992
I was getting way too used to waking up with Hillary in my bed, and I knew it could lead to serious problems, but as I've said before, she was like a drug I couldn't give up. I turned on my side and looked at her face, relaxed in sleep. She was so lovely, and looked so innocent. Feelings of guilt about what I was doing swept over me. What was wrong with me? I was risking my marriage, my career, and Hillary's emotional well-being, but I couldn't stop seeing her.
As I laid there looking at her, Hillary yawned and stretched. Watching a woman stretch is one of my favorite activities and my young lover did it about as wonderfully as anyone I'd ever seen. After she finished stretching, she rolled on her side, facing me, and smiled. "Good morning," she said. "God, waking up in bed with you is so awesome!"
I couldn't help but smile. "Yes," I agreed. "You're right. Awesome is exactly the right word for it."
She leaned forward, our lips joined, and we shared a passionate kiss. "Thank you for making this the best summer of my life," Hillary said.
"You're welcome," I told her. "But I think I should be thanking you. You've made my summer pretty wonderful, too." That got me a bright smile, another kiss, and the fantastic sensation of having her warm young body pressed against mine. And that, of course, caused me to have a very noticeable physical reaction.
Hillary giggled. "I guess we aren't the only ones who are 'up' this morning," she chuckled.
"Ah...I guess not," I said.
She wrapped her hand around my erection and began sliding it up and down. "You want to do something about this?" she asked.
"Ah...yeah...I guess I should," I replied.
Hillary giggled. "Yeah, you better. Wouldn't look good for you to go to school with this, would it?" She gave my erection a squeeze. "OK," she said. She let go of my erection and pushed me over onto my back. Then she threw the covers off, got up on her knees, and slid one leg over me, so she was sitting on top of my middle, with my erection trapped between us.
"I think I can help you with that problem, don't you?" she teased.
"Ah...yeah...sure," I gasped. I'm not sure I'd have called what she was doing right then helping. My erection felt as if it was getting harder, not softer.
She lifted her hips, reached down between us, and placed the tip of my penis between her labia, which felt soaking wet. Apparently I wasn't the only one who'd awakened ready for sex. Then she began lowering herself slowly. She tried to keep the look of lust from forming on her face, but couldn't quite do it. She also couldn't stop the sigh that escaped from her as my erection slid up into her. She leaned forward, put her hands on my shoulders, and began rocking her hips. "Does that feel good?" she asked.
"You know it does," I replied. I lifted my hands, cupped her breasts, rotated my hands a bit, and felt her nipples erecting against my palms. "Does that feel good?" I asked.
Her features had softened into even more of the look of need. She nodded. "Ah...yeah...it...um...it sure does," she murmured. She kept rocking her hips and my erection kept sliding in and out of her. I knew my need to come was growing rapidly and, judging from the fact that Hillary was moving her hips faster and faster, and making grunting and gasping noises, she wasn't any farther away from coming than I was.
"Come for me, baby," I said. "Let go. Come for me." I moved my hands so I could take her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers and began twisting them gently.
"Oh...oh, God!" Hillary gasped. Her movements became frantic and jerky and the grip she had on my shoulders got tighter. "Unnnnhhhhh!!! Ohhhhhhhhh!!!! Ohhhhhhhhhhh!!! Ohhhhhhhhhhh!!!!" she wailed.
That was all it took for me. Groaning, I exploded into her.
Once her orgasm ended, Hillary collapsed and laid on top of me. "God! That was so awesome!" she murmured. "Making love with you is always awesome."
I slid my arms around her and gave her a hug. "It certainly is," I replied. That was the problem, at least part of it. Having someone as lovely as she was available and wanting to make love with me was pretty damn heady stuff.
We finally dragged ourselves out of bed and into the bathroom to take a shower. For once, that didn't result in our making love. It appeared there were limits to my ability to perform after all. Once we'd finished in the shower, we had breakfast, then we headed off to face our day.
Hillary's changed attitude in class was even more obvious. She'd clearly read the assignment and was an even more active participant in class discussion than she'd been before. Not only that, she managed to draw the male students in the class farther into the discussion than they'd ever been involved before. I have to admit I was impressed. She was so far from the same sullen, angry girl she'd been when the summer class began that it was difficult to believe she was the same person.
"Good job in class today," I told her as she walked out of the room after class ended.
She blushed a little and said, "Thanks."
I spent the afternoon in the middle school, getting my office organized and having meetings with various members of the staff and faculty. I wanted them to know me and I wanted to get to know them. I was looking forward to the new year and my new job.
I finally headed home about four-thirty. As I drove, I found myself eagerly anticipating having the chance to see my young lover again. "This is wrong and you know it," a voice inside me said. "You know this is wrong. Why do you keep doing it?" "Because I can't stop myself," I said in my empty car. I'm pretty sure having an argument with yourself as you're driving down the road is a sign of some sort of mental illness, and that's exactly what I was doing. My debate with myself ended, however, when I pulled into my driveway and found Hillary's car sitting in the spot where she usually parked behind my house.
My heart was pounding a little and my insides were churning as I parked my car, got out, and started walking toward the house. Wrong what I was doing might be, but it was extremely heady, too. And there was no way I was going to be able to stop. No way.
The minute I walked into the house, I could smell something cooking. It was a familiar smell, a good one. Hillary walked out of the kitchen wearing a smile and a form-fitting red knit dress, not the same outfit she'd worn to school.
"Wow!" I said as I laid my coat and briefcase on a chair.
Hillary giggled. "You like my dress?" she asked. She turned around so I could see all of it. After she did that, she walked over to where I was standing, put her arms around my waist, and pressed herself against me.
"Actually, I was talking about how good it smells in here," I teased. "What are you making for dinner?"
"Yeah, sure you were talking about food," my teenage lover replied. "I could see the look in your eyes when you looked at me." She kissed me on the cheek and squeezed me a little. "And we're having meatloaf," she added. "I found the recipe and thought I'd see if I could make it as good as you do."
I slid my arms around her waist and hugged her back, then I kissed her soundly. "You're right. I love that dress," I admitted. "But I do love the cooking smells, too."
The dress looked fantastic on her. It was the kind of dress she should have been wearing on a date, not to spend clandestine time with a married older lover. Again I was filled with a mixture of guilt, desire, and elation.
Hillary looked up at me with puzzlement in her eyes. "What's the matter?" she asked. "You look sad."
"It's just that you should be wearing that dress for someone who's taking you out to dinner," I said. "Someone who can take you out to dinner and who has a right to see you looking as pretty as you do."
