Becky Jo was sitting next to me, still half naked, shaking and weary from telling me the whole story. She told me that she'd been with a couple of men since that time, that she'd tried to just have "normal sex" with them.
She told me that the guys would have had no trouble cumming inside her or making her swallow their cum, but that it always ended the same. She'd revert back to that night and it'd grow in her mind until she was disconnected from the reality of what she was doing and she'd just stop.
Then when she realized she'd disappointed the guy, she'd suck him off or just lay back and let him fuck her, then she'd cry, and the guy would leave or drive her home in silence and she'd never see them again. After three or maybe four instances like that, she just quit going out with guys.
A couple years later she met me and felt a spark and a pang that she'd not felt in a long time. She finished that night by telling me how much she'd wanted me and how I was the first one she'd ever told this story to and then she apologized and cried and said over and over "I'm so sorry, but I just can't."
I thought I knew what she meant. I thought she meant that what had happened had scarred her and she couldn't enjoy sex anymore. I felt for her. But I was just a young guy and I didn't know what to do. Strangely, I now felt closer to her and I felt sorry for her and I was really attracted to her and her hot body. And, I have to admit, hearing her story had turned me on. But, I wanted to find a way to help her. She was a woman in distress and I was a man. I needed to do something, but I didn't know what.
So, I held her and talked to her and tried to figure it out. She kept going back to what had happened and describing the ways she'd been treated and how it made her feel. After about an hour, it dawned on me. She wasn't saying she didn't like sex anymore. She wasn't saying that because what happened it now revolted her. She was saying that she hated to admit it but regular sex no longer turned her on.
She couldn't bring herself to actually say it to me, and it made her feel ashamed and dirty, but when she was with a guy she fantasized about what had happened before and now regular sex couldn't bring her to orgasm. She needed more.
Except, I thought "well, I'm not going to get a couple of guys and re-do the whole scene again" and I thought hell, there's nothing I can do. After awhile, she got up and was going to go home. But, she'd been drinking grappa punch and smoking and I wasn't going to let her drive down that winding canyon and maybe wreck. So, without much convincing, she stayed with me and we slept close together and she seemed very happy and content.
In the morning, things were a little, ummm, strange. She seemed embarrassed and anxious to leave. So, after coffee and a little small talk, I sent her on her way. But, I couldn't stop thinking about her story and the affect it had on her. I wanted to do something. I didn't want to just shrug my shoulders and walk away.
I hopped on my scoot and rode slowly down the canyon. I was going to see Becky Jo. I found her in the barn. She seemed very surprised to see me but she also seemed really stand-offish, like she really didn't want to see me. I understood, it was weird for me to be there, talking to her in the daylight, like friends.
She was back to wearing her baggy clothes and a baseball cap with no makeup. I asked her to come up for dinner the next night. She replied "I don't think that'd be a good idea - but thanks for the offer." But, I insisted and she still wouldn't accept. So, I just took charge, looked her square in the eyes and said "Look, I'm not asking you. Be at my cabin tomorrow at 6:00 and don't make me come down here looking for you."
Without another word, I hopped on my Shovelhead. Oddly, it started with the first kick. I revved the motor a few times, just for effect, and I rode off. I wondered what I'd do if she didn't show up. Hell, I wasn't all that sure what I was going to do if she did show up. I sort of had a plan in my mind, but wasn't totally sure it was a good idea or if it'd backfire or how in the hell I was going to get it going.
So, I just quit thinking about it and decided I'd make it up as I went. Then I went for a nice long putt and a few hours later wound up back at the cabin. The ride had given me time to really think. I had it all figured out - I was good with the whole idea - I just had no idea how Becky-Jo was going to react, even though I was about 90% sure she'd show up.
The next night, right at 6:00 she pulled into the dirt driveway. She looked apprehensive as I watched her though the window. But she gathered herself and headed for the door. She was back to the tight fitting snap front shirt and tight Wranglers that she'd tucked into her tall cowboy boots. She made it all look pretty hot. I didn't wait for her to knock on the door. I walked out, met her half way and gave her a kiss. It was short and not very passionate before she cut it off. So, I pulled her tight, kissed her again and pushed my tongue into her mouth.
She tensed up and at first it was strange, kissing this chick with her mouth wide open, my tongue in her mouth, but she was stiff and not really kissing me back. So, I squeezed her in tighter and made her take my kiss. She moaned and opened her mouth a little wider, but I was kissing her and she was just taking it. It was a kiss full of presumption.
I kissed her until my dick was hard. I was going to take her and she was going to take what I gave her. When I finally released her she was breathing so hard it looked like she'd just ran a 100 yards. Right then I knew I was on the right track and I was filled with resolve and anticipation.
One minute I thought she had hated it. The next minute I thought she lusted for it. So, I did the only thing I could do. I walked her over by the fire and said "stand there." I left her where she stood, while I went in and made us each a strong drink.
Only this time I avoided the grappa and went with vodka and 7-Up. We were both a little nervous. I, because I was going to do something that I knew might blow up in my face. And she, because she knew this was going to end the same way every other recent encounter she'd had with a man had ended; in disappointment for me and shame for her.
The first drink went down quickly because of our mutual apprehension. I made us both another, a little stronger, then as after thought, spiked it with a couple splashes of grappa too. When I came out, she was looking nervous, like she was looking for a way out.
I handed her another drink and we stood there in silence for a few minutes, just staring into the fire. She produced another joint. I don't know were she was getting it - probably growing her own on their farm, I guessed. But it was strong and sweet, not harsh at all.