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“I’m not ready to go back yet, but it’s not like there’s anything I can do about it, so I might as well just go with it,” I said, half-staring down at my own feet. It was the day before I would begin the long four of years of the hell that was high school, and although I was intrigued by the idea of new people, a new building, and hopefully better food, my excitement and enthusiasm ended there. I had despised being a freshman in junior high, and I was just about to endure another year of the lowly freshman life, this time in a slightly bigger building.
My name is Scott. I’m a fairly tall guy with a thick head of brown hair, which I used to dye constantly during high school. I’ve got naturally tanned, naturally smooth skin, and in spite of my good looks and warm personality, I was terribly shy, and never seemed to be too lucky when it came to the opposite sex. I’d had tons of girl friends during my life, but there’s a line between having a girl friend and having a girlfriend that I’ve hardly ever managed to cross.
I had just been introduced to John, a kid who had just moved to town from a couple towns over. A mutual friend of ours presided over the meeting between us, and as I met John, I met his brother, his father, and his mother, Helen. Upon meeting Helen, I became instantly infatuated with her. A woman in her late thirties, she was about my height, with an overall thin frame, save for her shapely hips. She had golden, shoulder-length hair, which I suspected was dyed, but I couldn’t tell for sure. Her lips were thin, the corners upturned the slightest bit, just enough to tell that she was smiling. And her eyes, they were captivating. Bright blue doe-esque eyes, they looked even prettier framed by her blonde bangs that hung down over her forehead, just stopping above her thin eyebrows. She dressed modestly, in a white tee shirt and long khaki pants. I looked down at her feet, noticing the she wasn’t wearing socks, instead, she appeared to be wearing pantyhose. She was like a dream come true. I’m not saying that every man in the world would die for her, but I found her absolutely stunning.
She began to ask me various questions about school, my family, my friends. I was surprised at how friendly she was, seeing as how she’d just met me. After going out to lunch with everybody, John invited my friend and I over to his new house to play video games, watch television, the usual itinerary for a group of teenage boys. My fickle mind had forgotten about Helen altogether, and proceeded to concentrate on the flickering light of the TV screen in front of us.
School began, and John and I became better friends as autumn turned to winter, winter turned to spring, and summer arrived, bringing with it the glorious end of another long school year. Over the summer, John and I were practically inseparable, and our time together caused me to wind up in the presence of Helen more and more often. I’d taken into account how beautiful she looked, and as I’d gotten to know more about John, I learned more about her, too. She didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, she never swore, and she had the personality of an angel. I never saw her get so much as upset, let alone angry. She was sweet and friendly, and even though I was John’s friend, not hers, I still found her company to be very enjoyable, and she was lovely to be around.
By the end of the summer, I had become infatuated with Helen again. This time, my mind was not about to forget how attractive she was, and I knew that I had developed a tremendously powerful crush on her. I would go to John’s house, and at the end of each day that I’d seen her there, I’d go home and think about her as I jerked off. I’d seen her in a bathing suit a few times when we went to the town pool, and the thought of the wet fabric of the suit clinging to her skin was enough to keep my mind satisfied for weeks. It got to the point that if I didn’t think that anyone was watching, I’d rush up to her room and steal a pair of her panties from her drawer. They were plain, white cotton panties, nothing too sexy, but I imagined where they’d been, and they became treasures to me. I was too rational to let my imagination get the best of me, though. I was just a kid, and she was married. I knew that I could never be with her, but wishful thinking never killed anybody, so I kept on picturing her each night while I masturbated.
The years seemed to fly by, which surprised me. I had thought that high school would take forever, but before I knew it, I was finishing up my senior year, and I was turning eighteen years old. By this time, though, I was on the other side of the country, going to a new high school. I never stopped thinking about Helen, and how much I wished that I could be with her. Even as I lost my virginity to my girlfriend, I kept an image of Helen in the back of my mind, and I wondered what it would be like to make love to her. I pictured the two of us kissing, touching, there were so many scenarios that had played out in my mind. canlı bahis We’d had sex on a beach, in her bed, in my bed, in the back of a bar, even in a phone booth! And it was all happening in my mind. My infatuation turned crush of Helen soon turned into an obsession, a desire to make love with her. I knew that the likelihood of such a situation would be slim to none, and the fact that I’d moved to the other side of the country didn’t exactly work in my favor.
At the end of my senior year, I surprised John by telling them that I planned on paying him a visit. I said that I would stay in a nearby motel, and that I’d be around for about a week or so. When John heard this, he told me that he was happy to learn about my trip, but he added that it wasn’t necessary for me to find a motel when his family would be happy to let me stay with them during my visit. I thanked him, and told him that I’d see him soon.
Needless to say, I was ecstatic! Not only would I be able to dodge the cost of a motel room, but I was going to spend an entire week in the vicinity of Helen! Upon thinking of this, the familiar scenario of the two of us together popped into my head, and I immediately began to jerk off, imagining Helen and I in her room.
I arrived at John’s house a week later, and received a slap on the back from John, and another slap on the back from his brother. John accused his brother of copying him and told him to stop, and they immediately began to fight. I silently thanked God for making me an only child. As the two boys roughhoused, Helen walked up to me and gave me a hug. She stepped back and looked me up and down, and I did the same. She was as breathtaking as ever, looking as gorgeous as she did the day I’d met her four long years ago. She said that I looked great, and I could feel butterflies tearing through my body as I began to blush. I said that it felt good to be back, and that the place looked vaguely familiar, my exact words. Helen chuckled and turned around, heading for the kitchen. She said that they’d set up their den for me, turning it into a makeshift guest room, and I told her that I appreciated her letting me stay with them. She said it was no trouble, and I could have sworn that she gave me a strange look as she spoke, but it was late, and having just gotten off of a plane, I was exhausted. I figured I must have imagined the look that she gave me.
I fell asleep shortly after, and dreamt about Helen. The look from before kept floating through my mind. I didn’t even know if she had given me a look, and, if she had, if she was aware that she had. Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Did it mean anything? What did it mean? What could it have meant?
I woke up with a dry taste in my mouth. Half-asleep, I made my way to the downstairs bathroom, where I washed, brushed, got dressed. I left the bathroom, only to find Helen standing in the kitchen, washing dishes. We said our good mornings, and then I looked around the house for a moment.
“It’s suspiciously quiet around here,” I joked. “Where is everybody?”
Helen turned back to me, and started pacing slowly. “Well, let’s see, Dad’s at work, Brett’s at a friend’s house, John’s taking a class at the community college, and I’m leaving for work in about half an hour.” She smiled. Her eyes seemed to shine.
“John didn’t tell me anything about a class,” I said.
She sat down next to where I stood. “He’s got a computer class every weekday up there.”
I knew that John was interested in computer design. “Sounds like fun.” I sat down in the chair adjacent to hers, and nodded sharply to accentuate the word “fun”.
She laughed. I loved her laughter. She had the faintest Southern accent, and her laughter always seemed to ring throughout the inside of my body, giving me chills. I decided that I would go out, and that I’d bring back lunch for John, Helen and I. Helen told me that she and John should be back by the time I got home.
I came back to the house, and, unlike this morning, it was filled with noise. The television set in the living room had been turned on, and some cartoon show was blaring through the rooms on ground floor. I heard additional noises from upstairs, but they weren’t noises that I’d ever heard in John’s house before. I looked outside the back window to find John’s car parked in the driveway. I slowly crept up the stairs and peeked around the corner into the only room that I could see clearly: John’s. Inside were John and Helen, standing in the middle of the room, yelling back and forth at one another. I immediately turned and snuck back down the stairs, surprised, shocked, even a little scared. I had never heard yelling in the house before, especially from Helen. I put the sandwiches that I’d picked up on the kitchen counter, and solemnly retreated to the den.
The rest of the day seemed to go by as any other day spent at John’s house would. The two of us played video games, watched TV, and concluded the night by going bahis siteleri out to dinner with a few friends. Still not used to the change in time zones, I came home noticeably more worn out than John, and went ff to the den to relax. I had figured that John went up to his room, but then I heard more yelling. John and Helen were having another fight, and this time I swore that I could hear Brett chiming in, too. I felt uneasy, lying on the cot that Helen had put in the den for me, while on the other side of the wall, the family was having an argument. As tired as I was, I couldn’t fall asleep until after the argument had finally subsided. I don’t know what I dreamt about that night, but I’m fairly sure that it wasn’t Helen.
I woke up somewhat late the next morning, and by then I’d managed to put the thought of the fights between John and Helen out of my mind. However, when I walked into the kitchen, I was reminded of the horrible events of the previous day. Helen sat in the kitchen, crying, her eyes concealed by her arms, folded in front of her. I didn’t think she’d noticed my arrival, and I didn’t want to startle her, but I didn’t like the idea of just leaving her.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, knowing full well that everything was not okay, but unable to think of a better alternative to draw her attention.
She looked up at me, her captivating blue eyes filled with tears, one running down her left cheek. She didn’t seem startled, but rather embarrassed about the fact that I had seen her crying. She didn’t answer right away, she just stared at me for a minute or so, then opened her mouth. It seemed as if she were trying to speak, but was incapable of producing any sound beyond a small, high-pitched squeak. I thought it sounded cute, but under the circumstances, I knew that I couldn’t just stand there and think to myself.
I moved closer to her, pulled a chair out, and sat down. I tried to look into her eyes, but by then she’d leaned forward into her arms again. I looked at her for a few more seconds, then I opened my mouth.
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Kaye?” I was glad that I was able to speak.
She looked up at me again and smiled, she same way she did when I first met her. It was as if she was trying to smile, but couldn’t. I looked at her eyes again. They looked beautiful, eyen though she was crying. They gleamed, seemed to be made entirely of glass. I could see my refection in them.
“You don’t have to call me that, Scott,” she said. I didn’t expect her to say anything, and I found myself to be taken aback a bit when she spoke.
“I beg your pardon?” I asked.
Her smile never vanished, in fact, it appeared to grow. “You don’t have to call me Mrs. Kaye. You can call me Helen.”
I was astonished. I didn’t even know why, but I felt so strange. I was sitting with my friend’s mother, who I’d been lusting after for four years, and she was crying. And she was trying to be friendly and kind to me at the same time. It was a strange situation.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “What’s wrong, Helen?” It felt good to call her Helen.
“I don’t know,” she said, almost more frustrated than just plain sad. “I don’t know how long I can take all of this.”
I was confused. “All of what?” I asked, staring into her eyes quizzically.
“There’s just so much going on at once,” she responded, lowering her head a little bit. “The boys are such a hassle sometimes, and Dad’s at work every day, so I have to deal with them during the day. And now I’ve got this new job, and…” she trailed off, and burst into tears, leaning down into her arms again.
I felt awful. I felt sick. I didn’t know what to say or do. I said the first think that came to mind.
“You know, we all have days where we feel like this, now and then. You just have to think positive.” I felt like a psychiatrist, analyzing her feelings. I felt a little bit sicker.
She looked up at me again. Even with the tears that covered her face, and her hair that stuck up slightly from being pressed against her shirt, she looked beautiful. I wanted to tell her that. I didn’t think I could go on much longer without telling her that. I was beginning to feel weak, just from looking at her. I was happy to be sitting down, otherwise I would have probably fallen.
To my amazement and delight, she moved her hand upwards and rested it on my shoulder. I was flying inside, just from the feeling of her skin on me. And she wasn’t even touching me, she was touching my shirt. I imagined what my insides would have been doing if I had worn a sleeveless shirt today.
“You’re so sweet,” she said, her smile returning to her face. “Thank goodness you’re here today.” I felt her hand squeeze my shoulder a little, and I felt like I was about to pass out. She stood up and walked to the sink, wearing her purple bathrobe. I wondered for a second what she was wearing under that robe. I wondered if she was wearing anything under that robe. I knew that I couldn’t bahis şirketleri go much longer. I had to tell her.
“Helen?” I stared in her direction, looking squarely at the back of her head. She turned around, and my eyes met with hers.
“What can I do for you?” she asked sweetly, as if the whole situation hadn’t just taken place, as if she hadn’t just been crying her heart out. I swallowed.
“There’s something that I need to tell you,” I managed to say. So far, so good.
“I’m all ears,” She came over to me and sat where she had just been sitting when she was crying. The glassiness of her eyes was still visible, but not nearly as apparent.
“I don’t exactly know how to say this,” I said, impressed that I could even begin my sentence. I looked at her, not knowing how to continue. She looked beautiful to me. She always did. I loved the little brown roots that showed through the golden hair atop her head. I loved her petite nose, placed perfectly in the center of her smooth, barely-tanned face. And her eyes. I couldn’t stop staring into those eyes. They seemed to zap the energy from me. The ability to speak, perhaps. I continued, praying to myself that the words would come out right. “I’ve had a crush on you ever since I met you.” I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see her reaction, even though I really did. I expected to feel her hand whip across my face. I was waiting for her to slap me. I was waiting for her to tell me to leave. I certainly wasn’t expecting her to say the next thing she said to me.
“I know.” I wasn’t sure if I heard her correctly. I opened my eyes to see her facial expression. I looked at her eyes first. They no longer appeared to be glassy at all. They still shone, as I felt that they always had. I moved down to her lips, afraid of what I might see. She was smiling.
“You…know?” I asked.
“I know,” she replied. I still couldn’t believe it. I was unable to comprehend how she could possibly know what I’ve been feeling for her this whole time.
“How did you know?”
“I had a feeling,” she began. “Sometimes a woman has a sixth sense about things like that. I didn’t know exactly what you were thinking, but I just had this feeling that you were, I don’t know, thinking something.” She laughed quietly. I felt as if I’d died inside.
“How come you never said anything to me?” I asked.
“Because I didn’t want to seem arrogant, I didn’t want to embarrass you, and besides, you’re half my age!” It made sense, but I still didn’t feel right about telling her.
“Are you mad?” I was still worried that she was. Just because she knew didn’t mean that she was okay with it.
“Not at all, Scott!” she said. Her smile seemed to grow ever-so-slightly with each word that she spoke. “I’m actually very flattered.” I was relieved to know that she and I were still on good terms. But I felt uneasy. I had a feeling, too. I had a feeling that she didn’t know everything that there was to know.
“I have another confession to make,” I said. I stared downward for a moment and decided to go for it. What didn’t kill me would only make me stronger. “I’ve thought about you. A lot. I’ve thought about kissing you, and touching you, and…and…” I looked up to see her face, but my vision was a little blurry, and I couldn’t make out her eyes enough to tell if she was getting mad. I said what I wanted to say anyway. “And making love with you.”
Again, I could feel my eyes close on their own. I had no control over myself anymore. I instantly regretted saying those things to her. I knew that she was going to get mad at me now. I was about ready to pack up and run to the airport on foot, just to punish myself for the things I’d just said. That’s when I felt her hand on my shoulder again.
I looked up at her, after what felt like hours. I could clearly see her face again, and she was looking directly at me, looking straight into my eyes. I felt like she could see into my soul. She wasn’t looking at me angrily, and she didn’t look sad, or even mildly upset. I recognized the look that she was giving me. It was the same look that she’d given me the night that I arrived. I turned my head to look at her hand, touching my shoulder. Her hand felt good against my shirt, perhaps better than before. I looked back at her, into her eyes again.
“I’m sorry,” I started to say. Before I could say any more, Helen leaned forward and kissed me.
I felt her lips press against mine, not knowing what I should do. I was shocked, utterly shocked, at this woman who I lusted after for what seemed to be forever, this woman who was now sitting with me, her lips pressing against mine. A voice inside of me told me to wake up, and I realized that the dream, the fantasy that I’d been keeping a secret for the past four years was finally coming true. Forget “finally”, it was ACTUALLY coming true! I never thought in a million years that I would kiss Helen, and upon taking this into context, I kissed her back, and my tongue began to slither into her mouth, intertwining with hers. We kissed passionately for what seemed to be forever, and when we pulled apart, I looked into her eyes, and I heard and felt fireworks going off in my head.
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