Just a Simple Short Memory

It was early in the morning early in the month of May, and we were having breakfast in bed. I was with my favorite girl in the whole world. As long as we were together there was nothing in the world that I couldn't find the strength to deal with.

That morning the biggest problem was that there were only three pats of butter. She had asked for two extra ones for her blueberry muffin, so that meant she needed three. I had a blueberry muffin also. That meant if she was going to get three pats of butter I wouldn't have any butter. It was quite the quandary.

"Anne, it's okay. I don't really need butter. My muffin is okay without butter," I told her. I knew better than to think she would just let it go. It never hurt to try though. There were times when Anne wouldn't really care about something so trivial.

"It's not about the butter," she said. "I think the room service girl did it on purpose because I asked her twice to make sure I got two extra pats of butter. Did you see how she smirked when you opened the door?"

"That may not have been the same person who took your order on the phone though," I said, regretting having opened my mouth even as I heard the words coming out.

"You know it was the same girl, John. Of course it was the same girl. That's why she smirked at me. She was making it a point to mess with me about the butter."

"Hey, I know you're right. I just don't want you to be upset. I want to have fun today. This is our trip, and we don't need to let the room service girl, or anyone else, mess it up for us. You can have my butter --" I could tell she was going to get bent out of shape if I took that tack, so I changed in mid sentence "-- or I can get her to come back and be mean to her. I'll do whatever you want me to so it won't bother you anymore."

"You're so sweet," she smiled when she said it. The room always lit up when she smiled, or at least it did for me.

Anne and I met at a birthday party for one of my friends. She went to the party with my sister's best friend. She hadn't counted on meeting anyone she liked there, and really neither did I. If somebody had told I would meet somebody that night who I would be involved with indefinitely, then I would have thought they were crazy. It was supposed to be just a small get together, and my little group was fished out.

Arriving at the punch bowl at the same as the attractive young lady didn't go so well. I bumped into her and caused her to drop her glass. It didn't break, but it did splatter punch onto the seat of an antique chair. Amid profuse apologies on my part we struck up a conversation. We found we had a lot in common. We both felt the kind of attraction and crackling positive energy that hits you when sex seems inevitable.

The amazing thing to me was that Anne almost to a tee fit the description of someone I didn't consider my type. She was dressed conservatively, with knee length khaki shorts and a simple blue button down long sleeve shirt, buttoned at the wrists and almost to the top at her throat. She had sparkling white tennis shoes with white ankle socks that had little pink puffballs at the back, which I had made fun of many times before I met her.

Anne's hair was very neatly pulled into a French braid. I couldn't really tell how long it was because of the braid, but her hair was sandy blond and had to be fairly long considering how formidable the braid was. She had on pearl earrings and a pearl necklace. She had on a small tennis watch which was a non-pretentious regular type of Seiko, which said she liked good watches but Seiko was her price range. All of these things amounted to basically my opposite in appearance.

Right after one of my friends saw me talking to her he made his way behind her so she couldn't see him. He then proceeded to make fun of her pearl necklace with exaggerated jacking off motions, complete with a mimed money shot. I should have known I was with a future girlfriend by the way I got angry at one of my friends for making fun of her. That's definitely not the way a guy acts when he's not interested in a girl.

When I said she was practically my opposite in appearance it was absolutely true. I was wearing cut offs of thick linen khaki pants. The bottom edges were frayed extensively. I tugged at the frayed edges subconsciously whenever I talked to somebody, which didn't improve the condition of the fray. I remember I was wearing a not fade away that was so old the color had not faded, but the fabric was so thin it almost looked as if it had. I always wore sandals. That night I had on a pair of huaraches that were three yeas old, and wouldn't make it another year.

My skin was very dark from being in the sun all the time. The most distinct tan lines on my entire body were on my feet. When I took my sandals off my skin was white underneath the straps. The reason my feet had the most distinctive tan lines was because there was a gradual change of color from my upper body into my pelvic area. I didn't have any tan lines on my upper body at all because just the slightest hint of nice weather and good sunshine prompted me to yank my shirt off immediately. I loved the way the warm sun felt on my skin, even though people constantly warned me about how bad it was.

I was six foot one unless I had to wear shoes. I weighed 182 pounds, which struck me as a little heavy, although the same people who warned me about the sun always told me I was not overweight. I did landscaping work, so there was no need to go to a gym. Everyone who did landscaping wound up with really good looking muscle structure, and I was no exception. My abs were well defined, although not so much they looked like something I spent a lot of time on them. My whole body was like that. I had well toned and defined muscle lines, but not so much it looked like I worked out in front of a mirror.

My hair was dark and thick, and curled just a little bit when I let it grow out a little. I didn't have long hair, but I liked it to be long enough that people could tell I could grow it long if I wanted to. My hair didn't have a natural part in it. It just sort of hung off the top in whatever direction it decided to. It almost had a life of its own.

My legs were really hairy in front, but not so much in the back. Of course that was true of my arms as well. I had a lot of hair on my chest, but not very much on my stomach. I was often very thankful to God that my back didn't have any hair on it. A hairy back always struck me as a terrible thing to have. I don't know what I would have had to do to get rid of it, but any way I could think of sounded painful.

I kept my private areas really well trimmed and short. I actually did shave in a small circle around the base of my cock. Hair could be a distraction at times when a distraction was the last thing I wanted. I did not shave my entire crotch because no matter what I did there would be nasty itchy bumps all over the place. I had figured that maybe if I worked in an office or something it would be no big deal, but working out in the sun just made problem free crotch shaving an impossibility.

One time I told a chick about my shaving policy, and she had decided that was something she couldn't bear to think about. Sh had just gotten finished telling me about hers. I thought it would be okay to talk about, but she didn't like it at all. That may be just one detail too many, but how can anyone know what they are getting in advance if conversation is limited to only work safe topics. I don't think that girl was right for me anyway, but I always approached the shaving topic with a little extra caution after that (in case it looked like the subject might cause a little feminine freak out).

So there I was, all tall, dark and physically fit, standing next to a young woman who looked like she was about to take a class of first graders on a field trip to the closest Talbots. We both felt the electricity in the air. I wanted to get that girl out of those straight straight vanilla straight clothes, get her hair down around her shoulder and get all up inside her. In retrospect I am quite sure Anne was also thinking she wanted me to get her out of those clothes and all up inside her, as soon as possible.

We left the party in a hurry. Anne told my sister's friend that she had found a different ride home, which probably would have turned into a fifteen minute long dish fest in the bathroom if Anne hadn't been in such a rush. We jumped into my Celica and headed for her place, because it was closer.

Once we got to her apartment we were kissing and macking on each other before we could even get the door open. She fumbled for the keys as I nuzzled against her neck and behind her left ear. Anne made a little squeal when I blew lightly at her earlobe and nipped it between my teeth. We did not fall through the door when she got it open, but only because I caught the frame at the last second.

Anne got her hands inside my t-shirt, but not for long because I lost the shirt in one fluid motion. Her shirt had buttons. It would have been missing a bunch of buttons if she hadn't stopped me. She got the top two undone and snaked out of it. I knew her bras would be white before I ever saw it. It was holding up two perfectly full and average C cup breasts with absolutely average dark pinkish nipples. I had my arms around her before she could get her shorts all the way off. I let her get my shorts off, because I was busy with what I had of her at that moment.

I had gotten Anne's hair halfway down when my cock came free of the shorts and underwear that had been holding it back. It felt so good to have it swing up and away from my pelvic area. There's such a feeling of confinement when it's trapped inside clothes. That unpleasantness was compounded if my balls somehow got stuck too far in front when I got hard. Get everything out and free could be almost as good as sex sometimes.

Anne seemed quite happy with what she had discovered. There was nothing special about the size of my manhood. It wasn't small, it wasn't too big. I really have never had much of a basis for comparison. It would easily be over seven and a half inches almost all the time, but one time when I was super excited my girlfriend measured and it was slightly over eight. I've been told that without the cushioning hair it feels a little longer inside a woman, which was half of my reason for shaving at all.

Anne wasn't worried about any of those things. She was kissing and sucking on my chest while she played with my cock leisurely. Her slow and gentle stroking was making me hard as a rock. It was pointed straight up at the ceiling between the two of us. While she used her right hand to stroke me she was using her left hand to lazily play with my balls. She was cupping them and feeling their size. Then Anne would let them hang free for a second before gathering them into her warm grasp again in a slightly different way. The feeling of being held and not held, held and not held, was turning me on to the extreme. No woman had ever done that to me before.

I had gotten all of her hair down before putting my hands to work feeling every inch of her that was within my reach. I measured the size of her beautiful bottom with my hands. I did not have to bend over to trace the outline of her ass cheeks. I ran my hands around the bottom of Anne's ass where it meets her thighs, and my arms were long enough to graze the lower part of her sex from behind.

Meanwhile I was kissing and licking every part of her upper body, her neck, her ears. I usually didn't kiss until I knew the girl better, because kissing was the easiest way to catch a cold. In her case I just knew she wasn't sick at all. I was kissing her then, but not for very long. Anne had decided foreplay in the foyer was played out. She showed me by taking my hand and leading me into the living room, on the way to the bedroom.

We were both naked. She was nice to look at. I've never felt there was anything good looking about a man, especially not me. I usually didn't like walking around in the nude, because there's so much stuff going on with a man's body. We did not make it across the living room. I felt a little bit dirty, but I wanted to treat her like she wasn't clean and pure. I wanted her to feel out of place wearing the boring little outfit she had on when we met. I wanted to make her more fully aware of the sexuality of what we were doing.

I said, "Anne, let's just stay here."

She looked at me with a little confusion in her eyes, but she could tell from my face I wasn't being strange or anything. She asked, "What do you want to do?"

"Could you bend over the back of the couch and let me do you from behind?"

Her face turned bright red. She stammered, "Sh-sure, I could do that."

I pulled her in close to me and turned her around. We took the couple of steps over to the back of the couch, and I signaled for her to bend over the back. I did that by tapping her lightly once with my left hand and positioning her with my right hand with just a little nudge. She just knew how I wanted her and got that way.

Anne's pussy was a little too low, but the fix for that is really easy with a soft backed sofa. I got her to spread her legs slightly, put some weight on the couch, and then lean further forward a tad. It meant her sex was exposed upwards toward my lower stomach. Instead of having to get us the same height I leaned forward onto her a little. I didn't do it yet though. I liked the way she looked exposed and bent over.

She was holding the weight of her upper body with her arms on the sofa cushions. I told her to let her weight go until Anne was propped on her elbows. That turned her pussy upward just a little more, and caused her head to be closer to the seat cushions.

I didn't touch Anne with anything but my hands. I ran my hands over her back and down her legs. I stroked her ribcage, not enough to make her scream from the ticklishness of it, but enough to give her goose bumps all over her body. I played with her for a minute or so, massaging her clit and feeling the warmth and wetness of her pussy. She groaned a few times. Anne was probably about to try to rape me when I decided I had teased her enough.

I guided myself down into her as I leaned over the back of the sofa with her. I used my longer arms to keep my weight on the top of her pelvic region and on the back of the couch on either side of her, and my longer legs kept me from firmly on the floor. It was a physically demanding position for me, but it's like a much more pronounced doggy style for a woman.

I pulled in and out of her slowly at first. She understood immediately what I had done when my balls slapped onto her clitoris not only with the force of my thrust but also with the power of gravity. Every in stroke my balls landed right there on her most sensitive spot and stayed there until I pulled back, whereas in doggy style there was just the slap before gravity took control. As I picked up the pace it started getting to her in a big way. I've been told that it can cause soreness if I did it too long though.

I was just about to reposition us, because the last thing I wanted to do was make her hurt so early in the night. I needed have worried, because she came right away. Anne told me to stop, but when I was about to pull out she said, "Don't you dare." I leaned over onto her with all my weight then, because it really did take a lot of work to make love that way.

A few seconds went by, and then Anne asked me, "Are we going to be able to get out of this position?"

We both laughed. I did manage to get off of her without losing my little guy in the process. I helped her up, or tried to. She pulled me over onto the couch with her where we laid snuggling for a little while. We did in fact make it to the bedroom after that, and it was a good night. It wasn't magical, but it was great sex nonetheless. I had no problem taking just great sex and hoping for magical later.

I was thinking about that night while I was looking at her carefully dividing the three pats of butter into six halves. She looked so normal, but she was so not normal. I think it's funny how that worked out. I looked like a stoner, and I was straight laced hard working responsibility guy. She looked like a Stepford wife, and inside she was sort of like Mary Shelley. She was from a boring environment,and that's what she looked like. Her exterior didn't match her interior at all though. It was like something out of an urban fantasy when we were together, sometimes. It was nice being with her.

[Like a lot of things I write these days I felt it was more important to finish it on time than to finish it the way I wanted. I have problems {not health problems, just problems}. I would rather have a finished work posted where it didn't end to my liking than nothing of it posted at all, perhaps never getting posted.]