July 28 – July 30, 2007

Heather was at home—yet, she wasn’t. She was not in the cute little house that she had just bought, nor the town she lived in. She was quite literally at home—meaning her parent’s house. It was the house she grew up in. The house that held so many memories, she almost couldn’t think straight. Every wall, every turn of a corner, every time she walked into a room, some vision of a world-gone-by would pop into her mind.

Heather’s parents had left for an extended vacation. While they were away, they had asked Heather to come and house-sit and “just take care of things” in general, as if Heather didn’t have anything better to do with her life. Truthfully, she probably didn’t have anything better to do, but she didn’t like admitting that to her parents.

The house was big and quiet. It felt even bigger and quieter with no one else there. It was a Saturday evening and Heather was alone, with no one but her own thoughts to keep her company—and Heather’s thoughts had not been good company lately.

She had turned thirty just a little more than a month ago. Thirty years old—and still single. Ugh… and here I am, still hanging out at my parent’s house. Those types of thoughts just wouldn’t leave her alone.

On top of that, she had just learned that Jared (the married man she had totally fallen for and had a fling with at the beginning of the summer) was getting a divorce and moving away. She had really gotten her hopes up on that one.

Two weeks ago, she found out he was getting a divorce. For some reason, she’d managed to convince herself that this was it. He’ll get a divorce, we’ll be together, and things will finally work out for me, she had briefly thought at the time.

Then, just a few days ago, Jared had called her and explained that he was going to move away. Heather was crushed. Even though their “relationship” had been short-lived, she had truly believed that “this might be the one”. That’s the type of over-optimism that begins to emerge when one turns thirty.

That’s where Heather was physically, mentally, and emotionally when the telephone rang. Not her cell phone, which she was needlessly cradling in her hands. No, the phone on the wall was ringing. The old, 1979 model, wall-mounted, push-button, yellow telephone with the curly-Q spiral cord that always got twisted up. It rang once. Twice. The ancient ringing sound reverberated through the entire house.

No one even calls Mom and Dad at this number anymore, she thought. Just like everyone else in the country, her parents both had their own phones. The old landline telephone just hung there on the wall, gathering dust. It’s too late for telemarketers, she thought. Who on Earth? She managed to pull herself off the couch and made it to the phone by the fourth ring.   

“Hello?” Heather said into the receiver.

“Hey, Heather, how’s it going?” replied a friendly sounding female voice. A voice Heather recognized, but one she couldn’t quite place—a voice she hadn’t heard in years.

“Pretty good, I guess,” Heather lied.

“That’s great,” the voice responded. “This is Katie Donovan, by the way.”

Heather’s jaw dropped. Her first instinct was to hang up the phone, but she didn’t. “Hi, Katie, how are things with you?” she responded, trying to put friendliness in her voice.

“Things are good,” Katie answered. “Say, I heard you’ve been at your parents’ place the last few days and was just wondering if you wanted to go over to Roscoe’s for a few drinks.”

Heather knew that Roscoe’s was the local bar in the next town over, only about five miles away. I really want to drink—but do I want to drink badly enough to go with Katie Donovan? she asked herself. Out loud, she said, “Gee, I don’t know if I’m up to it tonight.”

“Aww, come on,” Katie urged. “It’ll do you good to get out of that big ol’ creepy house for a night. I’ll buy the first round.”

The second urging was all Heather needed. She couldn’t say no to beer more than once. “Oh, all right, that sounds like fun,” Heather agreed, even though she was still unsure if it sounded like fun or not.

“Great,” Katie said energetically. “I’ll come by and pick you up in a few minutes.”

As Heather hung up the phone, her hands were shaking. Katie Donovan. That was a name that certainly brought up a wave of old memories. Memories she tried not to think about. That fateful night. The summer after graduation, just over twelve years ago. Good God, twelve years ago last month! Heather and her boyfriend Jimmy had been at a party and she had lost track of him. She eventually found him. Oh, did she ever find him. He was sitting in Kyle Foster’s pickup, with a mass of frizzy red hair bobbing up and down over his crotch. Katie Donovan’s red hair. Heather would never forget that moment. She would never forget that hair. Never forget that satisfied look Jimmy had on his face.

She and Jimmy had a huge fight that night. Their last fight. She broke up with him and never looked back. Not once. The name Katie Donovan had become a cursed name in her mind.

On the other hand, Heather thought, prior to that moment, Katie had been a friend. She was one of the few gals in my graduating class that I really got along with, other than Tracy, of course. Heather had nearly forgotten that the two of them actually were friends. She had let that one moment cloud her memory. Sure, Katie had been a slut, there’s no denying that. She slept with any guy she could. She sucked lots of dicks. It just so happened, that particular night, she sucked the wrong one.

Truthfully, Heather might even owe Katie a debt of gratitude. If it hadn’t been for her, Heather’s life might have taken a completely different path. And, despite her earlier complaints, Heather liked the path her life was on.

Heather had no doubt that this was an olive branch on Katie’s part. She was obviously trying to reach out and show Heather that she held no grudge. Heather took a deep breath and resolved to try and make amends. After all, it wasn’t Katie who had cheated on her that night.

Just then, through the window, her peripheral vision caught sight of a little white car pulling into the driveway. Katie had arrived more quickly than she had anticipated. Heather glanced down at herself. A red tank top and extremely short jean shorts—that’ll be good enough for Roscoe’s, she decided.

She grabbed her things and headed out the door. Even from the front porch, she could see Katie’s distinctive red hair, but it was different. She’d cropped much of it off and it seemed less frizzy. The other girl waved through the window.

Heather opened the passenger side door and took her seat. The two women greeted each other warmly. Heather fought off the initial urge to reach out and slug Katie, but forced herself to acknowledge that it was twelve years later—and things were different now.  She forced herself to forget that single solitary night and focus on the Katie she remembered throughout their school years together. By the time they arrived at Roscoe’s Bar, Heather had mostly made peace with the situation.

The two sat down at the bar and ordered beers. Coors Light. Roscoe had other stuff—but that was all anyone seemed to drink in there. At first, their conversation was simple. “How’re your parents?” “How’s your brother doing?” “How’s Tracy?” things like that. But as one beer turned into three, they quickly loosened up, chatting and laughing about old times. Fun times. As they talked, Heather realized that Katie had been right. Getting out of the house had done her good—a lot of good.

The door would occasionally open and other townsfolk would come in, but since the two women were facing the bar, they didn’t pay much attention to who was coming or going. That’s why it caught Heather off guard. It caught both of them off guard, in fact.

Heather heard a voice in her ear.

“Pucker up, buttercup,” the voice said. She recognized it instantly. Both the voice and the words. The words were from Ferris Buehler’s Day Off. A movie that the whole gang had watched together one night many years ago. The line never failed to make her laugh when being spoken by the right person. In this case, the voice did belong to the right person. The voice belonged to Jimmy.

Heather sat bolt upright. The last time she had seen him was two years ago at the class reunion, and that night she hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. She turned and looked him in the face—it had been twelve years since she was this close to him. For the second time that evening, she resisted the immediate urge to punch someone.

Maybe it was the three and a half beers she’d already drunk, but for some reason, Heather didn’t punch him. She didn’t slap him, she didn’t yell at him, she didn’t even tell him to leave. She just said, “Hey, Jimmy, how’s it going?”

Jimmy had a friend with him, a guy named Ryan. Ryan was just another guy who “never really left town” after he had graduated high school. Sort of like Jimmy. In fact, Katie had even mentioned Ryan more than once earlier in the evening. The two men started chatting them up, and Heather, understanding that Katie might have an interest in Ryan, decided not to be a stick-in-the-mud. Just roll with it for a while, she told herself.

“You two want to come sit with us?” Jimmy offered, motioning towards a table.

“Sure, why not,” Heather said with a shrug. She took a seat, with Katie sitting to one side of her, and Jimmy on the other. So, here we are, she thought, the three major players from that night, all sitting here, twelve years later, drinking together like old friends—after all, they were old friends. Life certainly takes some odd twists and turns.

As Jimmy sat down, he slapped his pack of Marlboro Lights on the table and immediately launched into a story. Jimmy was always a great storyteller. As he began talking, Heather started thinking. Her mind drifted back. That same night they had all watched Ferris Buehler, she and Jimmy had kissed each other for the first time. A good old-fashioned, sloppy, tongues-in-each-other's-mouths—type of kiss.

Not long after, they’d gone to the movies together.  Not long after that, they’d started dating.  Jimmy also had the distinction of introducing her to one of her favorite substances… beer. 

They’d had a turbulent relationship. They’d dated.  Broke up. Then they tried it again.  Broke up again. Then again.

Heather remembered that night too. The night they “got back together”. Jimmy had just broken up with Alicia, an empty-headed socialite that Heather couldn’t stand. They were at a party and Heather felt sorry for him. She had comforted him—and ended up getting hooked all over again. They dated until—well, the night she found him with Katie.

Everyone just assumed that Heather and Jimmy would end up getting married. Who knows, maybe they would have if it hadn’t been for that night in late June.

Heather’s mind returned to the present, and she suddenly realized that she had swilled through a six-pack.  The four of them were yucking it up, joking, laughing, and exchanging stories about their most embarrassing moments.

“How about you, Heather?” Katie asked. “What’s your most embarrassing moment?”

“Ugh,” Heather started. “Sometimes, I think my whole life is just one embarrassing moment,” she joked. “Let me think about it a second,” she said. As she did, she stretched back in her chair. Her tank top rode up, baring a significant portion of her tummy. Jimmy stared, openly ogling her trim midsection.

He’d been checking out her legs all night. At first, Heather had ignored it. But as the evening had progressed, she’d started teasing him just a bit. Backing a little further away from the table so he could get a better look. Crossing her legs, and then uncrossing them at various times when she knew he was looking. Her buzzed mind had decided that it was nice to be getting some attention for a change.

“I’ve got one,” Heather finally said. “It’s pretty dirty, but if you’re all willing to hear it,” she explained.

“Absolutely,” Katie encouraged. “We’re all adults here,” she said with a good-natured chuckle.

“Well, actually,” Heather began, “It involves Jimmy, here.”

“Uh-oh,” Jimmy said, snickering.

“One night—in fact it was the night of my eighteenth birthday—we’d pulled into Jimmy’s driveway,” Heather started, “You know, his parent’s place has that super-long driveway,” she explained. “Well, we were sitting out there, trying to say goodnight to each other.”

“Oh God, I remember this night,” Jimmy said, turning beet red.

“So, you know, we were making out,” Heather continued, “and I started—” she choked on her words. “I started giving him a blowjob.” Subconsciously, Heather glanced at Katie, and Katie seemed to quickly look away, even though she was clearly enjoying the story.

Heather continued. “So, I’m down there, doing—what I needed to do—and Jimmy’s phone rings.” She stopped and raised her eyebrows. “If you’ll remember, Jimmy had one of the old bag phones in his pickup. He was like, practically the only guy in town who had a cell phone back then.”

“Yeah, we called them car phones, if I remember correctly,” Katie offered.

“Right,” Heather agreed. “Well, his phone rings. And what does Jimmy do? He answers it!” Heather playfully slapped Jimmy on the shoulder. The first physical contact she had made with him in twelve years. “It was his dad. I heard the entire conversation. His dad says ‘Is that you in the driveway? Why are you just sittin’ in your pickup?’ And Jimmy says ‘Cuz Heather’s givin’ me a blowjob,’” at this point, Heather jokingly buried her face in her hands. “I couldn’t believe it,” she said as the others guffawed with laughter. “His dad says, ‘Oh, she is? Well, tell her to hurry up, you both should have been home an hour ago.” Heather couldn’t contain herself, she started laughing uproariously with the others. “So, then, Jimmy—still on the phone—says ‘Dad says to hurry up,’ I was so embarrassed.”

“Well, you know, me and dad always had a pretty honest relationship with each other,” Jimmy acknowledged.

Heather took another huge swallow from her bottle of beer. “But seriously, the most embarrassing part was the next time I saw his dad in person. Now that was embarrassing.”

“At least he didn’t ask to talk to you on the phone,” Katie joked.

“Oh, God,” Heather agreed. “It wouldn’t have surprised me if he had.”

Jimmy proceeded to tell a few more stories about his dad, who had always been quite a character. With each one, the whole group laughed and offered their own memories. As they talked, Heather realized with a start, that Ryan had a hand on Katie’s thigh. She’d been paying so much attention to Jimmy, she hadn’t even noticed that Ryan and Katie were making quite a bit of progress.

The old bar was hot and Heather was feeling it. A couple of open windows and two ceiling fans provided the only ventilation. She adjusted her chair one more time, moving closer to Jimmy as she did so. She wasn’t sure why, but seeing the developing closeness between Katie and Ryan had made her envious. She wanted to enjoy the same thing that Katie was experiencing. Her gesture did not go unnoticed by Jimmy. As she moved in closer, he smiled and, once again, unabashedly checked her out.

“You’re lookin’ pretty good tonight,” Jimmy whispered.

Two years ago, Heather would have throttled him for saying that. Even the night before, Heather probably would have slapped him so hard he would have fallen out of his chair. But tonight… 

“Thanks,” she responded simply. As she did, she reached down and grabbed his pack of cigarettes from the table. She removed one and lit it with his lighter.

There was a comfortable familiarity between the two of them that stretched beyond the years. Even after twelve years apart, she knew him better than she did any other man, except maybe her good friend Mitch. Jimmy knew her better than any other man did too. He knew all the right buttons to push, all the right switches to turn on.

His hand was on her knee.

Heather and Katie exchanged glances from across the table. They both knew what was happening. Heather took a drag from her cigarette and raised her eyebrows at Katie. 

His hand was on her thigh. 

He doesn’t waste much time, Heather thought.

After another hour had gone by, both Katie and Ryan, and Heather and Jimmy had maneuvered themselves even closer together. Katie was practically sitting on Ryan’s lap. Heather was leaning her head against Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy’s hand was now on Heather’s inner thigh, only about an inch away from her nether regions. All four of them were drunk.

“Okay, kids, time to close up for the night,” Roscoe yelled from across the bar.

“Ha!” Katie shouted.  “We haven’t been kids for years.”

“Y’all will always be kids to me,” Roscoe chuckled hoarsely.

“Ahhh, Roscoe!” Jimmy hollered. “It’s only eleven o’clock! What kind of bar closes at eleven o’clock?”

Roscoe flung a dish towel over his shoulder. “The kind of bar that’s owned by a seventy-year-old man who needs to go to bed,” he barked. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” he added.

As the small group stood up, Heather felt genuinely disappointed. She didn’t want this to end. She’d had a lot of fun. She could see by the look on Katie’s face that she didn’t want it to end either, but maybe for slightly different reasons. Heather motioned to her, drawing her away from the two men.

“So,” Heather started, “Do you want to go with Ryan?” she asked bluntly. “I’ll—” she couldn’t believe she was about to say this, “I’ll get Jimmy to take me home.”

“For real?” Katie asked in disbelief.

Heather nodded.

Katie looked into Heather’s eyes, expressing a moment of clarity in her drunken stupor. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” The words were those of an old friend who knew that someone was about to make a huge mistake.

Heather shook her head. “No, I really don’t,” she admitted. “Just go,” she said before she lost her nerve. “Jimmy’ll take me.”

Katie laughed. “Well, I’m not sure you should have put it that way,” she said with a wink. “But, okay.” Heather could tell the other woman was excited. She eagerly caught up to Ryan and the two of them hopped into Ryan’s pickup and left. Heather now found herself, quite alone, with Jimmy.

“Can you take me back to my parent’s house?” Heather asked.

“Sure thing,” Jimmy replied. As he spoke, a crack of thunder sounded in the distance. It was a long way off, but it caught both of their attention. “That’s weird,” Jimmy commented. “Don’t normally have storms during this part of the summer.”

They stepped out into the night air and Heather breathed deeply. The fresh air, cool compared to the stuffy confines of the bar, revitalized her instantly. And there it was. Jimmy’s pickup. The same pickup he’d had so many years ago. He still had it. Amazingly, it didn’t look that much different. How much time Heather had spent in that pickup, she couldn’t even measure. The tool box, the ice chest with the bungee cord around it, the dented tailgate—it was all exactly the way she remembered it.

She crawled in on the passenger side. As they started driving, he turned on the pickup’s CD player. The song he selected was “Down on the Farm” by Tim McGraw. He’s playing this on purpose, Heather realized, He knows it’s one of my favorites.

She started singing. So did he. She sang to him the line about not messing with the bull, and he sang to her on the part about staying out of the beets... When they reached the part about Farmer Johnson’s daughter they both reached out and made the ‘hourglass’ gesture, typically used to indicate an attractive woman. Heather burst out laughing at the choreographed movements. It was something they’d done a hundred times. Yup, he knows all the right buttons to push.

As the vehicle slowed down, Heather saw her parent’s house within sight. She realized once again that she didn’t want the moment to end. “Oh, don’t take me home,” she suddenly blurted out. “Let’s just… go somewhere.”

“All right,” Jimmy responded, obviously enthused. “Where to?”

Heather shook her head. “I don’t care, just someplace where we can talk—listen to music—whatever.”

The vehicle accelerated and Heather only glanced at her parent’s dark, gloomy house as it passed out of view. In another few minutes, they had arrived at their destination. Heather looked out, realizing where he had brought her. They were in a pasture, parked on a ridge that overlooked a pond. Their old make-out spot. He positioned the vehicle so that the tailgate faced the ridge and the pond.

Heather knew the routine. She jumped out of the pickup as Jimmy reached behind the seat and grabbed a blanket. Heather was already lowering the tailgate by the time Jimmy made it to the back of the vehicle. They both climbed into the back and she helped him spread the blanket out.

Heather reached into the ice chest and took out two cans of beer. She did this instinctively. He hadn’t told her there was beer in the ice chest. She just knew there would be. There always had been. There always will be.

As they each cracked open a beer, they settled in, leaning against the oversized tool box that stretched across the bed, just behind the truck’s cab. They started talking. Jimmy had the music turned up loud enough for them to hear, but not loud enough to be distracting.

They talked about old times. Heather told him stories about teaching. Then they talked about old times some more. Jimmy told her stories about farming. Then they talked even more about old times. She talked about college. Then they talked about old times again.

“Storm’s gettin’ closer,” Jimmy observed during a lull in the conversation. “The wind’s picked up—a lot.”

Heather knew he was right. The storm had gotten a lot closer. They could hear thunder consistently now and lightning was occasionally lighting up the sky. She could even smell the approaching rain on the wind.

But the imminent storm didn’t deter them in the slightest. Before long, they’d been talking for what seemed like hours and the two of them had gone through about half his supply of Coors Light and half his pack of cigarettes.

By this point, Heather wasn’t just drunk. She was really drunk. She was really, really drunk. She was really, really, really drunk. But, it felt good. And alcohol or not, she and Jimmy were getting along really well together.

They were also getting kind of handsy. Jimmy had one arm around her shoulders, and the other hand had once again found Heather’s inner thigh. Heather had matched him step for step, placing her own hand on his thigh.

She rested her head against his chest. He glanced down at her. She smiled at him. He smiled back. God, that smile, it sucked her in every time. He lowered his head and kissed her. As he did, a surge of adrenaline raced through Heather’s body.

“There’s my little Heather Duster,” he said softly. His old nickname for her. He absolutely knows which switches to turn on.

Heather felt the patter of raindrops splash against her bare shoulders and legs, but she ignored it. Extending her neck upwards, she leaned in and kissed him again. And again. And again.

She was hooked all over again. Like a drug addict who had been clean for twelve years, all it had taken was that one exposure, that one kiss, and she was hopelessly, helplessly… his. And she knew it. So did he. He pulled her in close and kissed her deeply, holding her in his arms. When she had gotten into his pickup, back at the bar, she had told herself she wasn’t going to let this happen. Now, she didn’t care. She just wanted him to keep kissing her. She surrendered to him completely.

After several minutes of passionate necking, her legs and arms were almost completely soaked. What had started as a few sprinkles could not be ignored any longer. She was just getting ready to say something when the weather spoke for her. A torrential downpour let loose on top of them.

They made a mad dash to collect the now-soggy blanket and reach the safe confines of his pickup. A moment later, they were in the cab, dripping wet and laughing hysterically at having been caught in the storm. As Jimmy started the old pickup, Heather took her seat. Not the passenger seat. Her seat. In the middle, right next to Jimmy. It was where she’d always sat. It felt good to be back.

As they drove out of the pasture and down the old dirt road, which was quickly becoming muddy, Heather did her best to distract him. Blowing in his ear. Unbuttoning the first button of his work shirt. Then the second. Massaging his hairy chest inside the shirt. Feeling the growing bulge in his pants. By the time they made it to his house, his shirt was completely unbuttoned and she’d had to restrain herself to keep from going down on him.

Now parked in the driveway in front of Jimmy’s house, Heather placed a hand on the pickup’s door handle. She momentarily hesitated. Am I really going into his house with him? a part of her—the sober part—thought to herself. But the sober part was now very tiny and was quickly drowned out. The rest of her wanted to go inside with him. Now.

Jimmy misinterpreted her momentary hesitation. Looking out at the downpour, he said, “Come on, how much more wet can you get?” He then opened his door and jumped out into the rain.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty damn wet,” Heather joked, hoping he caught her double entendre. 

As Jimmy shut the front door behind them, Heather reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed each other, standing in the doorway, and he took her in his arms once more. She pulled his shirt away from his chest and off his shoulders. It fell to the floor.

“Ooh, you have a pool table,” Heather remarked, noticing the large green felt table that filled up most of the front room.

“Yeah, I just got it a few months ago, actually,” he said in between kisses.

For a few minutes, they simply stood in the entryway of his home, dripping onto the floor, kissing, and exploring each other with their hands. Their feet started slowly migrating further into the room. Stumbling and tripping over each other as they did. At one point, Jimmy backed Heather against the pool table.

Heather wasn’t sure if he knew they were up against it, so she mumbled, “Pool table, pool table.”

Jimmy misunderstood the purpose of her mumbling. He instantly turned her around and pressed her midsection against the pool table. He wrapped his arms around her and felt up under her tank top massaging her perky tits, planting kisses on her wet neck as he did so. Heather could feel his bulge pressed against her ass.

They both wanted it. All the petting, all the necking, all the foreplay was behind them—and he was behind her. His hands drifted lower, unfastening her shorts. He pulled the shorts and Heather’s panties down to her ankles in a single tug. The next thing Heather heard from behind her was the unmistakable sound of jeans being unzipped.

Jimmy pushed Heather up against the table, encouraging her to lean forward. One of Jimmy’s hands gripped her left hip. She felt his cock press against the lips of her pussy and he pushed inside. As he did so, he reached in front of her, his hand under her shirt once more, and scooped her tits in his hand. She bit her lip and spread her legs further apart as he started thrusting.

“God, that feels good,” they both said at the same time. This made them both laugh. Sex was fun with Jimmy, he could always make her laugh, no matter what they were doing.

Heather dropped her chest to the table and ran her hands across the green felt as Jimmy started finding his rhythm. In no time at all, he was plowing her in full force. Their thighs slapped together loudly. He placed his hands firmly around her hips, working her forwards and backwards as he pounded her.

The only word Heather could utter to express her pleasure was, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” over and over again. She said it each time he slammed her hips against the pool table. The front edge dug into her with every thrust and it hurt like hell, but there was no way she wanted him to stop.

After a while, his strokes slowed to a more sustainable pace. His hands massaged her waist, sliding her shirt upwards.  “Hey, you’ve got a tattoo back here,” he said with surprise.

Heather moaned.  “Yeah, my little tramp stamp. I did that on my thirtieth birthday. My gift to myself,” she explained.   

“I like it,” Jimmy complimented. He hunched over her, pressing his chest against her back. His breathing was labored.

“You sound like you’re out of shape,” she teased. “Twelve years ago, you could fuck me like that for twice as long.”

He took the words as a challenge. His thrusting intensified again. Heather hadn’t been prepared for it. She grimaced and groaned in ecstasy. His hands returned to her breasts, teasing and tweaking her nipples. Heather gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white.

Finally, he slowed once more. A lather of sweat developing between their two heated bodies. “Okay, so maybe I am a little out of shape,” he joked through panted breathing.

“That’s all right,” Heather said reassuringly, “I want to be on top anyways.”

“I thought you might,” he responded knowingly.

They made a trail of clothing that led from the pool table to his bed. Shoes. Tank top. Jeans. Shorts. Boxers. Socks. Panties. By the time Heather landed on the bed, they were both completely naked.

As they had made the journey to the bedroom, Heather briefly had time to think. What the hell am I doing here? Am I really making the same mistakes all over again? She suddenly realized, No, I’m not making the same mistakes. I’ve made the same mistakes all over again. But she loved it, she had enjoyed every single thing about the night so far.

She straddled him. His cock was spreading her apart, reaching up inside her. Any negative thoughts were washed away. Those thoughts were replaced with Damn, I love fucking him. She eased down on top of him until he was inside her to the hilt.  She straddled him completely, a thigh resting against either side. She rolled her ass, reached down and felt his chest. His strong, calloused hands gripped her waist again.

As she rode up and down on his cock, her thighs began to ache with the strain. She looked down at the man beneath her. God, he’s gorgeous, her drunken mind thought, a real man’s man. His hands found her belly button piercing as it dangled and jounced around with her up and down motion.

“That’s new,” he commented.

Heather giggled. “Not really, I’ve had it for six years,” she explained.

“Well, new to me,” he replied. “I like it, a lot.”

She grinned. His approval meant something to her. She was glad he liked it.

Heather reached out and grabbed the edge of his headboard for balance. This position had the added bonus of making her tits sway back and forth in a tantalizing fashion, right in front of his face. Jimmy raised his head and took one nipple in his mouth. He sucked at each one, switching back and forth as his nimble tongue brought both nipples to full erectness.

Her hands absentmindedly searched for distraction. Her fingers grazed over several rough spots—notches on his headboard—a lot of them, at least a dozen. She kept exploring. On top of the headboard, which had a flat surface, she found a remote control. She recognized it instantly as a stereo remote. She hit the power button and pushed play—curious to see what CD he had in the stereo. When the music started, she didn’t know the song, but she recognized the voices and the musical style instantly.

“Big & Rich,” she stated through heavy breathing. “Does it have—”

“Number nine,” Jimmy finished before she could even say the title of the song.

Heather advanced the CD to track number nine. The opening refrain to “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” played instantly.

As it started up, Heather started bucking her hips in perfect rhythm with the song. She could feel his cock up inside her. Feel it spreading her slit apart. It was bigger than she remembered. It felt good. She could feel the heat radiating from their bodies. Her cheeks were flushed. She raised her arms, running her hands through her hair. Jimmy always liked it when she did that.

“Good God, you’re glorious,” Jimmy gasped.

Heather continued riding him until she was absolutely spent. She crashed onto the bed next to him, panting in exhaustion.  The late hour of the night and the extreme amounts of alcohol were finally taking their toll. Jimmy gently stroked her body as her breathing slowed. She was thoroughly satisfied in the moment and felt—good. She passed out almost instantly.

When she woke up the next morning, her face was turned towards a bedside alarm clock. She glanced at the red numbers which glared out at her. 9:34. She was still drunk. Very drunk. Just to illustrate how drunk she was, she was momentarily unsure if it was 9:34 AM or PM. She assumed it was morning.

She turned her head and gazed at the man still sleeping beside her. Jimmy. So she hadn’t dreamed the whole thing after all. Part of her had hoped she had. The other part was very glad he was there. All she knew, in her still-drunken state of mind, was that she needed something. What do I need? she asked herself. I need a cock in my mouth. She wasn’t sure why, but at that exact moment, all she really wanted to do was give Jimmy a blowjob, desperately.

As she moved herself into position, it occurred to her that she’d probably given Jimmy dozens of blowjobs. What’s one more? she asked herself. But one more was what she wanted. Really wanted.

She gazed down at his naked body, not quite as sculpted as the athlete she remembered. He’s let himself go, she thought. But he’s still gorgeous. The dick was in her mouth. He stirred. He’ll really enjoy being woken up this way. She slurped on the cock, willing it back to life.

“God, that feels good,” he mumbled.

The member filled her mouth completely as it became fully engorged. Fuck, I love having his cock in my mouth. She began bobbing her head up and down.

“You have always been the best at this, Sweetie.”

I should bite it off for calling me Sweetie. Instead, she took it deeper into her mouth, a sudden desire rising in her to prove that she really was the best.

“I’m serious, no one holds a candle to you,” he offered.

He’s told me that before, Heather remembered. Her tongue teased at his knob. I have to know.

“Even better than Katie?” she asked.

The question caught him off guard. He raised his head off the pillow. “Ahhh, you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She put the dick back in her mouth. He didn’t answer the question. Once again, she deep throated him, nestling her nose in his pubic hair. I’ll let him think about it a second.

“Baby, Katie has a tiny mouth and is all teeth. She gives horrible blowjobs. Everyone knows that,” he explained.

She giggled at the comment and accidentally bit him. Has. Gives. Present tense, she noticed. When was the last time—she didn’t want to know—yes, she did. “When was the last time she gave you one?” The cock was back in her mouth. She slurped at it and gripped the slobbery shaft with her hand.

“Three months ago,” he replied.

This time, she bit him on purpose. She paused for a moment, shrugged it off and continued sucking. At least he was honest.

Suddenly, his cock erupted, releasing an enormous load inside her mouth. He didn’t warn me. He never warns me. She swallowed. Swallowed again. Fuck, his cum tastes good. As she swallowed, an odd thought occurred to her. I’ve easily swallowed more of his cum than any other man I’ve known. She glanced up. There was that look. That look of utter satisfaction she’d seen on his face so many years ago when it had been Katie providing the pleasure. She grinned, knowing that this time it was her who had caused that satisfied expression.

She knew she had pleased him. It pleased her to know that she had pleased him. Yup, still very drunk, she vaguely thought. She brought herself to his side and collapsed once more.

A moment later, she felt him getting out of bed. She sort of heard him say, “I have to go fix some fence today or Dad’ll be on my ass. Don’t feel like you have to rush off,” he added. “After all, if you’re still here when I get back, maybe we can have some more fun.” She fell back asleep before he had even left the house.

Heather woke to the sound of the door slamming shut. Her mind rapidly surveyed the situation. She was still in Jimmy’s house. She was still lying naked on his bed. Stark naked. Not even a blanket or a sheet covering her up. She was laying on her stomach, one leg out straight, the other bent at a ninety-degree angle to her side.

She remembered the last words she had heard before he left. He’s going to think that because I’m still here, and still naked in bed, that I want to have sex with him again. This was as far as her thought process made it before she heard his jeans unzip again.  He was standing in the bedroom door.

“Hello, my little Heather Duster,” he greeted her as she heard the jeans fall to the floor.

She half-turned her head to indicate that she was awake. But her mind was still working too slowly. She hadn’t changed positions. She hadn’t tried to cover up. She hadn’t closed her legs. As she felt the weight of his body on the mattress behind her, she realized, yes, I’m letting this happen—again.

He moved in behind her, she was still laying on the bed with her legs spread apart. He thrust his cock inside her—and took her. He scooped his hands between the mattress and her body and cupped her breasts in his hands once more. Heather’s tits weren’t large, but they had always just been the perfect size for Jimmy’s hands.

Two hours later, she was standing in his kitchen, naked, making him supper. That evening, they ate a scrumptious meal of macaroni and cheese—the only thing he had in the house. Judging by the contents of his cabinets, it was something he ate quite a bit of. As she cooked, he sneaked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing at her neck. Heather had a goofy grin on her face. The type of goofy grin she had not worn since—who knows how long.

It was puppy love all over again. The most dangerous kind of love. The kind that made Heather do really stupid things… stupid things like sleeping with her old boyfriend from years ago. 

They ate their macaroni and cheese while watching City Slickers. They spent the evening reliving more old times. They listened to their favorite songs. They watched their favorite movies.

First, they watched Tommy Boy. Then, they fucked. After that, they watched Robin Hood: Men in Tights. Then, they fucked again. Finally, they watched The Sandlot. Then, they fucked even more.

During one break in the action, Heather’s hand reached above her and found the notches in his headboard once more. She smiled at Jimmy and asked, “So, which notch am I?”

Jimmy thought for a moment and pointed to the one on the far end. “This one,” he said gently, “the first one.” He counted down the row four spots. “And this one.”

“You counted me twice?” Heather asked with a laugh.

Jimmy nodded. “You’re worth counting twice.” He reached over and grabbed his pocket knife off of the nightstand. Unfolding it, he raised the small knife and cut another notch at the end of the row. “Make that three times,” he added.

“Why?” Heather asked, that goofy grin returning.

“Because this is a totally different Heather than the one I remember,” he said with a smile.

The next morning, Heather awoke to a curious sensation. A sensation she had never woken up to in her life. He was returning the favor from the previous morning. She opened her eyes. Her legs were spread apart… his face buried between them.

“God, that feels good,” she mumbled, repeating his words from yesterday morning.

 His tongue stabbed deep inside her. She began moving her hips. Heather reached down and ran her fingers through his sandy blond hair. The tongue quickly darted across the folds of her snatch, licking, probing, plunging back inside. She raised one hand above her head, gripping the edge of the headboard.

A finger was inside her. She felt Jimmy’s tongue flick at her clit. He rapidly worked it back and forth as his fingers worked as well. Her thighs spread further apart. Her toes gripped the sheets beneath her. Her hand gripped the headboard even tighter.

Heather moaned loudly. She could feel the heat between her legs. She was sopping wet, both from her own natural arousal and Jimmy’s saliva. She started panting heavily. She moaned again. She could feel her oncoming eruption. A rising tide, welling up from deep inside her. She tried to hold it off as long as she could, wanting the pleasure to last. The dam finally burst. She gasped. Her ass shook beneath her. Her thighs clenched. Her left foot cramped. She let out a noise that sounded something like a howl—an unconventional sound—even for Heather.

After a few seconds, her orgasm subsided and Jimmy raised himself from between her legs. He proudly stood on his knees and beat his muscular chest comically, like Tarzan. Heather giggled despite her exhausted state.

He took her in his arms one more time and cuddled with her for a few minutes. They kissed. He held her tightly. She sighed. A moment of happiness.

Once again, he got up, dressed, and left so he could go feed his cattle. A part of her wanted to stay. The part of her that was once again hopelessly hooked on this man. What the fuck is it about him that just constantly draws me back in? she asked herself.

But, she didn’t stay. She forced herself to get out of bed. She forced herself to put her clothes back on (which were still laying on the floor where they had been dropped on the way to his bedroom). She forced herself to sit down and write him a long note. She forced herself to walk back to her parent’s house—it was only a little more than a block away.

She called Katie that afternoon and told her about everything that happened. Strangely, she felt that she could trust Katie with this story and knew that her friend Tracy would scold her. Katie, in turn, revealed all that happened between her and Ryan.

Heather’s parents returned that evening. When Heather’s mom asked what she did the whole time, Heather simply answered, “Oh, not much. Just sort of… hung around. Listened to some music. Watched a few movies.”

The next day, Heather packed up her stuff and returned to her normal life. However, she couldn’t resist taking one last glance at Jimmy’s house as she drove out of town.

Author’s note:

Soooo, the way I figure it, we’re all entitled to one really big mistake in life, right? Okay, okay, so, depending on how you slice it, there might be like five or six really big mistakes in this story. What can I say? Obviously, there were some things about the guy that I liked, or I wouldn’t have dated him so many times.

I will admit, again, there was a part of me that wanted to stay. In fact, there was a part of me that really, really wanted to stay. The part of me that laughed at his jokes. The part of me that loved the same movies as him. The part of me that loved the same songs as him. The part of me that remembered all the good times we had together.

But then, there was the other part of me. The part of me that knew I had to leave. I guess you might call it the adult part of me. The part of me who remembered how much of an asshole he could be. The part of me who still remembered Katie’s frizzy red hair bobbing up and down. The part of me that remembered he had two ex-wives—and two divorces, both brought about by his unfaithfulness. But mostly, the part of me that remembered I had my own home, and my own career, and my own life that was waiting for me to return.

I won’t tell you what I wrote in the note I left Jimmy. That’s between him and me, but I promise I let him down easy.

Do I regret it? No, I don’t regret a damn thing. If I did, I probably wouldn’t have written this story. Well, I take that back. If I regret anything, I regret how dangerously close I was to falling for him all over again. Oh, who am I kidding, I did fall for him all over again—I just got over it a lot quicker than usual.

And, don’t worry, I assure you I did NOT make the same mistake when I turned forty!