Part 9
From Benjamin Dornier's Journal
Thursday, August 6, 1992
Even though Hillary wasn't in my classes today, she was never far from my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that it was very likely she and I would have anal sex after I got home. And, even though Hillary didn't know it, if we succeeded, it would be my first time, too. My wife and I had made a few fumbling attempts at anal sex over the years, but we never completed the act because she always tightened up and couldn't complete it. And it really wasn't a big thing for me. If I'd never had anal sex for the rest of my life, I wouldn't have died feeling deprived. The fact that I might very well wind up having anal sex with Hillary had me about as wound up as I'd been since my teenage years, since the first time I was sure I was actually going to have sex.
Despite being distracted by my thoughts, I did manage to get through the day. And for the first time all week, I managed to get home early. I expected to have some time to set things up for what was supposed to happen later that evening. I wasn't expecting Hillary to be at my house when I got home, but she was. That did little to settle my heart rate, which felt as if it had been increasing geometrically every second after I left school. I was beginning to fear that I'd never get a chance to finish what I'd started with Hillary because I'd have a heart attack first.
I parked my car, got out, and walked into the house. Hillary met me at the door and gave me an excited hug and kiss. She had on a loose-fitting dress made of black soft material with a tiny flowered print. It had a wide neck and pleated skirt that dropped to mid-calf. And it also had tiny buttons that ran all the way from the wide neck to the hem. She'd left quite a few of the buttons on the skirt undone, I noticed as she walked toward me.
"You're home early," she said after the kiss ended. "I figured it would be at least another hour before you got here." She leaned forward and hugged me again. "I'm making dinner for us."
Her words made me realize that the house did smell as if something good was cooking. "What are you making?" I asked. "It really smells good."
"It's a chicken casserole my Mom makes," she replied. "I...I hope you like chicken."
"If it tastes half as good as it smells, I'm sure I'll love it," I told her. "By the way, you look fantastic."
She stepped back and twirled around to show me all of the dress. "Do you like it?" she asked. "I got it at the mall today. I thought maybe I'd change my image a little."
"It's gorgeous," I said. "It really is." I'd also noticed that her breasts had moved in a very interesting fashion and wondered exactly what she was wearing under the dress - if anything.
She walked back to me, put her arms around me, and pressed her face against my chest. "You know what I was thinking about when I bought it?" she asked softly. "It was one of the reasons I did buy it, actually."
"What were you thinking?"
She squeezed me a little and kept her face in my chest. "I was thinking that with the buttons all the way down the front, it would be easier for you to get off." Her voice was so soft I had to strain to hear what she said.
It was my turn to give her a hug. I also planted a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm thrilled you thought about that," I told her. I chuckled. "You know, I've always thought people who design women's clothing should give more thought to removeabilitly."
She leaned back in my arms and grinned up at me. "Yeah, sure, I bet," she said. A buzzer sounded in the kitchen. "I need to go finish getting dinner ready," she said, slipping out of my arms. "You don't mind if we eat early, do you?"
"Nope, not at all. How much longer before you're ready?"
"Maybe a half-hour, max," she said as she walked into the kitchen.
It gave me plenty of time to get things set up in the bedroom, which I did. The only thing I didn't do was heat water to warm the lubricating jelly because it would have cooled before I used it.
"Dinner's ready," Hillary called.
I walked into the dining room to find that she'd set the table and even had candles burning. "I'm impressed," I said.
My young lover blushed a bit. "Ah...I...um...I just wanted, you know, to make tonight special."
I walked over to where she stood put my arms around her, and kissed her gently. "Every moment I spend with you is special," I told her. "But this really is nice. Thank you."
"Um...you're welcome," she replied, still blushing. She was surprised when I held her chair so she could sit down. Clearly few boys her age had the same kind of training about how you treat a woman that I'd had.
She served herself, then I took some of the casserole from the dish setting on the table. I also buttered one of the rolls she'd made for us, too. "I'm really impressed, you made rolls, too," I commented.
"I...I didn't really 'make' them," she told me, blushing even harder. "They're the kind you buy in the supermarket."
I took a bit of my roll chewed it, and swallowed. "Well, you 'bake' them pretty well," I teased. "I don't think I've ever had a better one."
"You're teasing," she said.
"You caught me." I forked some of the casserole into my mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It was fantastic. And I told her so. "That's incredible!" I said. "I don't think I've ever had a chicken dish that tasted this good."
Hillary studied my face carefully. "You...you aren't kidding this time, are you?" she asked cautiously.
I smiled and shook my head. "I'm completely serious," I told her. "This casserole really is wonderful."
I don't think I've ever seen Hillary's face redder. "I...I hoped you'd like it," she said. "I wanted to do something special for you because...you know...you're...um...what you're doing."
"Well, you certainly did do something special," I told my rosy-faced companion, "The meal and the way you look certainly fit my definition of 'special.'"
Hillary surprised me even more when she produced a strawberry-topped cheesecake for dessert.
"You trying to fatten me up?" I asked as she carried two plates holding pieces of the cake to the table.
