Before turning down my bed for the night, I picked up the picture that was on the table next to my bed. In the picture was myself, my best friend Kate, my parents, and the man I was in love with, John. The picture was taken just a few months ago at my 18th birthday party. John is our next door neighbor and has been ever since I can remember. In fact, I distinctly remember when I was a little girl telling my mother, "Mommy, when I grow up, I'm going to marry John."
I had had a crush on him since I was 6 or 7. But growing up, into my teens, my crush on him was still strong. Only something was different. I no longer had just a crush on him. I was in love with him. I was 16 when I realized this, and it hit me right in the heart like a sledgehammer.
But now I was 18. Young, vibrant, pretty (if I do say so myself), and above all, I was legal now. But he still had no idea how I felt about him. I was always afraid to let him know how I felt, lest he think I was a sick, depraved young girl for wanting a much older man. After all, I was barely legal, and he was 48, a year older than my Dad.
I put down the picture, turned off the lamp and crawled into bed sighing. I always went to bed the exact same way. Wet, horny and willing. Sure I had dated a few boys, gave a few hand jobs, a couple blow jobs, but I was still a virgin. And John has been divorced since before I was born.
He was good friends with our family. Celebrating birthdays and holidays together, having him over for dinner, etc. He would even be coming to my high school graduation which was in about two weeks. I sighed and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning my alarm clock went off at it's usual time, 6:30. Irritated, I hit the snooze button. Damn the clock for actually working! I laid there for a minute or two and felt a pounce on the bed. A big, wet tongue started licking at my ear. I shrieked in surprise.
"Clark!" Our little Pomeranian dog had greeted me good morning. I giggled and petted him, hugging him to me.
After a quick shower, I got dressed and headed downstairs for breakfast.
Daddy was sitting at the kitchen table, "Good Morning, darling."
"Mornin' Daddy", I said, feigning a southern accent.
He chuckled, "Baby, you're a character. I - " he looked up me up and down and stopped. "Jesus Christ honey, you can't go out of the house dressed like that!"
I looked down at my outfit which consisted of short jean shorts and a snug baby blue top. "Oh daddy, don't be so old-fashioned," I told him.
"Sweetheart," he began. I rolled my eyes. Here it goes. "You're young and naive. Men have only one thing on their minds, and I just worry about you wearing something like that."
I sighed.
I was walking home from school, thinking about John as usual. God, he was sexy. I checked the mailbox and sorted through mail. Junk, junk, a bill (I'll make sure Daddy gets that one), and an envelope addressed to John Prescott. John! My John! The mailman must've put it in our box by mistake.
I rushed in the house, dropped off the mail and my book bag, and went back outside to go deliver John's letter. I rung his doorbell and there was no answer. I tried again, still no answer.
I walked down the steps to leave, when his truck pulled into the driveway. He was a carpenter and was still in his work clothes. Snug and torn work jeans and a flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. He was so big. Probably about 6'3". He smiled when he saw me.
"Hi Mary, what brings you here?"
He approached me. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and was determined to at least appear confident. "Hi John, I just came by to give you your mail. The mailman put it in our box by mistake."
"Thank you honey," he said, taking the envelope. "Another bill it looks like." He rolled his eyes.
I giggled, "Maybe I shouldn't have given it to you after all!"
He chuckled, "Would you like to come inside honey? It's such a hot day, and I just got back from work. I could get us some lemonade."
I just loved it when he called me honey! "Sure, I'd love to."
He walked up the steps, and I followed closely behind. A little too close - I accidentally bumped my arm into his ass. He turned around. "Sorry," I said, blushing.
"Don't worry about it," he smiled at me. I looked into his blue eyes. He was so handsome and sexy. My stomach got a whoosh of butterflies. I could feel my heart beat twice as fast, and I felt my panties getting moist.
We made his way into his house and into his kitchen Pouring me a glass of lemonade, he complimented me on my outfit.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. So have all the boys been hitting on you at school?" he asked with a big grin.
I giggled shyly, "Kind of. Actually, Daddy objected to me wearing this outfit today. He thought it was too, you know, revealing."
"I guess fathers are like that," he said. "He just doesn't want to see his little girl get hurt. You know I remember when you were just a little squirt, you always like to wear those polka dot, frilly dresses."
I laughed, "Yeah, I remember that. I must've looked so silly."
He sat down on the stool next to mine with his lemonade, "Nah, you were adorable. I've seen you turn from a cute little girl to a lovely young lady."
An awkward silence passed between us. I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw a bulge in his pants.
"Thank you," I said quietly and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. I could feel his eyes looking down my shirt. He stood up and told me to do the same. Holding my hands, and looking me up and down, he said in a gruff voice, "You are beautiful honey."
He gently took his rough hands and held my face, bending down to kiss me, as I am only 5'4". His lips tenderly touched mine. I opened my mouth, and we started kissing really hot and passionate. I ran my hands up and down his forearms. In between kisses, he mumbled, "Oh baby, you're so sweet."
And in the heat of the moment I told him what I really felt, "Oh John, I love you."
He looked at me, surprised.
"Oh God, I'm sorry!" I said, and ran out of his house out of embarrassment. I heard him call out something to me, but I just ran home. I was so embarrassed that I had actually told him that. I felt so foolish.
I bolted into our house and thundered up the stairs to my room. I slammed my door behind me and locked it. Even though it was only 4 o'clock in the afternoon, I got into my pajamas, sobbing. Thank God my parents weren't home yet, they'd surely want to know what was the matter.
I crawled into my bed and cried into my pillow. I felt like such a fool. He must think I am so pathetic. I had the nerve to tell him I loved him, and I didn't even know if he felt the same way about me. Probably not. He was probably more interested in mature women. Not girls who are going through the heartache of their first love.
I cried and eventually fell asleep. At about 7 o'clock, I heard a knock on my bedroom door."
"Mary," my Mom said. "Mary, it's time for dinner."
"Mom, I'm not feeling very well. Just let me stay in here, please."
She paused for a moment, "Ok sweetheart, I'll save the leftovers in the fridge if you want some later."
"Thanks Mom."
And with that I heard her feet patter down the hall, and then downstairs. I didn't want to think about what happened with John, so I just laid there and tried to fall asleep again.
But I just couldn't. So many times I had played with my pussy, pretending it was him. So many times in school, I had daydreamed about him and I together. And I can't even imagine how many times I dreamt of him being my first, or how many times I had gushed about him in my diary.
John must be so confused, I thought to myself. He deserves an explanation. I got out my pad and pen and started writing him a letter. After a wastebasket full of crumpled up notebook paper, I finally composed an acceptable letter. It read:
Dear John,
