Mom had just made my decision for me. I'm not a good liar, never have been, and this was no time to try to improve. "Sit down, Mom." After a good 20 minutes of silence I had told my story to her. All about Don; about us, and about what I had been doing for the past week; about his age, and how I felt about him.
Mom finally broke her silence. "You, you slept with him? Terry that's, my God, you, you could be pregnant or have a disease. What were you thinking?"
I reassured her that I couldn't be pregnant and that I was totally sure he was safe and free from disease. The next question was harder to answer. What do we tell Dad?
It was Sunday afternoon before I heard from Terry. It wasn't an e-mail, it was a phone call. "Don. I wanted to hear your voice and talk to you. I, I told my Mom and Dad about us, everything. Needless to say they are unhappy and somewhat disappointed but I am able to make my own decisions. Before you say anything let me say more. I fell in love with you over the internet and reinforced that love with you. I have never felt so secure and wanted by anyone as I felt with you. I know the age difference is a problem, maybe more for you than me, but I love you."
I wiped a tear away as it ran down my cheek. "Terry I, yes I wanted you and yes I wanted to make you feel secure and happy. I'm sorry you had to tell your parents so soon I know it would have been easier if it could have been further in the future but the truth had to come out sometime. You make me feel young, so very young, and so virile, but you are right that the age difference is a problem. I have been thinking about you and about us and, and, well it just, it won't work. Oh, yes, we had one wonderful week of fun and great sex but there has to be more, so much more. I am 33 years older than you; I even have a daughter older than you. A life for us would be complicated because you would want children; something I can't give you, and you would want your circle of friends, friends your own age not old fogies like me playing cards and drinking beer. I hope you understand."
I could hear her crying softly. "Everything you said is almost exactly what my parents said. Do you guys have a book of things to say to kids? Do you rehearse these things?"
The anger in her voice was coming out and I knew it was aimed at our circumstance not at me personally. "No honey. It's called loving someone enough to tell the truth even when that truth hurts. I would be proud and honored to spend the rest of my life with you but that wouldn't be fair to you. Perhaps I could give you 20 or 25 years before I die or maybe less. You deserve someone who can look at you and ask you to marry him knowing you will have a family and grow old together. Every time you looked at me you would see an old face staring at you; wrinkles, old eyes, legs that don't walk as well, you deserve more, you deserve better."
"I love you." She said through her crying and ended the call. I put my head down on the table and cried. I hadn't cried since my wife's funeral, but now I was shedding tears. I looked in the mirror across from the table and saw an old face staring back. I hadn't seen that face in over a week, but now it was back. All last week, the wonderful week with her, I had seen myself younger and desirable but now my true reflection was coming back.
T- I hung up the phone and rolled over on my bed burying my face in the pillow crying. I knew he was right, I knew my parents were right, but what we had had was also so right. I had given myself to him, given him my virginity, and had taken from him the knowledge of what making love is all about. I wanted to write to him but this wasn't the time. I knew I would only repeat what I had said on the telephone and I didn't want to say it again. Later that night I undressed and lay naked with my hands roaming my body. They were Don's hands, and they were touching me most wonderfully. I pushed a finger inside myself and it was Don's wonderful cock going inside me. I closed my eyes and I smelled his scent, heard his wonderful moans and felt his lips on my breasts. I had an orgasm and I kissed him goodnight.
For the past week I had enjoyed making love to a beautiful young girl. My cock had been an instrument of pleasure and now there was no music for my instrument. The silence in the house was almost deafening. I could hear her laughter, I could smell her perfume on my pillow, and I could feel her soft skin against my palms. Sleep finally came but throughout the night I rolled to my side hoping she would be there. She wasn't. It was a few weeks later that I received her e-mail.
T- I had been in class but not hearing the instructors or really hearing anyone. I had confided in Ellen and we cried together. She told me I had to move on, forget about Don, and get my head back in school. That night I sat down at the computer and finally found the words I wanted to write.
"Dearest Don. It is difficult to sit here and try to put into words the myriad of feelings going through me. I have been awakened, like Sleeping Beauty, by your kisses, your touches, and your love making. I have cried at my loss, the loss of your kisses, touches, and love making but I, we, have to go on. My mind has replayed what you said a thousand times and each time I cry and each time I know you are right. I should apologize to you, apologize that I dragged you into my life with this internet and apologize for coming to you and making you love me. But I won't because what we had, what you gave me, will be there always. You will always be my first love, my first lover, and my teacher. I will treasure our few days, I will treasure our memories, and I will treasure forever the way you made me feel. I will end by saying I love you and always will, but please understand that this will be my last writing to you and I hope you will not write again to me. I love you Don, I always will."
I didn't write again. I knew if I did I would only write things she didn't need to hear and I would only be pouring out my heart, the heart of an old fool. I had taken a few pictures of us together and I kept them safely tucked away where I could pull them out and bring back fond memories. After a few months I sat down with Evelyn and told her the whole story. She didn't scold or chastise me; she just put her head on my shoulder and her arm around me.
I did meet another lady, a 48 year old widow, and she moved in with me after a year of dating. She found the pictures and asked about them. I told her the whole story; she didn't scold or chastise me; she just put her head on my shoulder and her arm around me.
End
