“I just couldn’t wait to kiss you,” he grinned, bending down to brush his lips against hers. “A week is too long to be apart,” he added.
She thought about the nine months he was deployed to Afghanistan two years prior. A week seemed like nothing compared to that, but perhaps it was always longer for the ones remaining at home than the ones traveling.
“Are the kids okay?”
Sarah nodded. “Abby is settling into dorm life and is ready for classes to start on Monday. Owen is enjoying teaching his little brother all sorts of things. I’m a little worried he won’t want to come home next week.”
“Well, he’s coming home to start school,” James pointed out. “I wouldn’t take it personally if he is less than excited.”
“True,” she frowned. Then she suddenly brightened: “Did it occur to you that we have exactly one childless week together? We could live it up and go totally crazy! What do you want to do first?”
James didn’t hesitate before replying, “Well, I’m thinking getting you home and naked is at the very top of my agenda.”
“I was hoping you’d say that!” Sarah linked her arm through her husband’s and followed him to the car.
Some days she could hardly believe he was hers. After an undeniably rocky beginning, somehow it had all worked out. It all worked out for the best, Sarah thought, squeezing James’s biceps as they reached the car. He opened the door for her, but wouldn’t allow her to get inside until he gave her a proper kiss. She felt her desire for him reignite as soon as his lips made contact with hers. Even after all this time, he still has that effect on me…
***
The worst part about dorm life wasn’t the preppy roommate with her fifty pairs of equally preppy shoes, nor was it the daily fight over the showers or the crappy food in the dining room. The worst part so far was the agonizing feeling that everyone was buzzing around like worker bees and she was an invisible flower, waiting for someone to notice her. She felt helpless to shed her passivity, but she just didn’t feel up to joining in the buzz.
Her one conscious effort was trying to break her habit of constantly looking at her phone. During their first floor meeting, the RA had given the thirty-two girls living on 3C the following sage advice: “Try putting your phones down and actually interacting with people face-to-face. It’s pretty awesome! Looking at your phone 24-7 is so high school.”
The RA was a short, stocky butch-looking senior with spiky purple-tipped hair and a silver nose ring. She told the ladies to call her “Sam” and followed it with the warning that she would never, ever answer to “Samantha” or “Sammy.” Abby made a mental note.
She had considered reinventing herself as she began her new life at the University of Colorado-Colorado Springs. She left the sign which read “Abigail Lynde” on her door and decided not to shorten it to the diminutive “Abby.” She briefly thought about going by “Gail,” just to be different, but it sounded like a foreign identity when she tried to roll it off her tongue. “Abigail” sounded more grown up, more mature.
That night at dinner a mousy brunette asked to join her. Abby shrugged and watched the girl gratefully take a seat. They were both still wearing nametags from the earlier orientation activities, so there was no need for formal introductions. The mousy girl’s tag read “Maddy,” and she was more adept at pushing her pea, corn and carrot mixture from one side of her plate to the other than actually ingesting anything.
“Which floor do you live on?” Abby finally managed after deciding that Maddy had kind doe-brown eyes. They reminded her of her mother’s.
“Fifth,” she replied. “You?”
“Third,” Abby sighed. Why does this have to be so hard? she asked herself. Making friends when you’re little is as simple as sharing your crayons or liking the same music. Seems like it just gets harder the older you get.
“Where are you from?” Maddy followed up.
“Originally from Colorado, but I went to high school in Maryland,” Abby replied.
“Oh,” Maddy replied. “That’s far away. I’m from Kansas.”
Abby nodded. Sometimes it was hard to believe Kansas was Colorado’s neighbor to the east, the two states were so different. She remembered standing on top of Pike’s Peak and looking west and south at all the mountains towering into the sky, their bases planted in the states of Utah and New Mexico. Then facing east she saw nothing but flat land stretching to the horizon. Abby understood why her mother was always lamenting about missing her mountains. They really do grow on you, pardon the pun.
Maryland has mountains too, though, she considered. They’re out in the western part of the state, the thin pan-handle part. That no one calls a pan handle. Hmmmm. Her mind was bouncing from one topic to the next like a preschooler with ADHD. Clearly I am already bored of Maddy.
“So what did you do this summer?” Maddy asked. She hadn’t given up on the conversation yet. Abby had to at least admire her tenacity.
What did I do this summer? Abby let the question float around in her mind for a minute, waiting to see if she was going to access those repressed memories, the ones she was trying not to dwell on. “I kissed a girl,” she suddenly blurted out.
“Oh, like the Katy Perry song?” Maddy giggled. “Did you like it?” Her face was suddenly animated and she no longer looked mousy. She was actually quite pretty once her lips spread and revealed her straight, perfectly aligned teeth.
She must have had braces at some point, Abby gathered. Then she saw the sparkle in her eyes dancing in time to her laugh. She thinks I’m joking.
“What did you do?” Abby volleyed the question back to her.
“Oh, the usual stuff, lame summer job, family vacation to visit even more lame family. Fling with this guy Jacob that worked with me at Dairy Queen. Nothing too crazy.”
Abby nodded. No, her summer paled in comparison to mine, she thought. And that’s exactly why I don’t want to remember it. It was so good and so bad, all at the same time.
***
James held to his promise of ravishing Sarah as soon as they crossed the threshold of their home. He left a trail of their clothes leading up the staircase and down the hall to their bedroom: a bra strewn on the carpet in front of the bathroom, panties right inside the bedroom door.
The walk up the stairs while simultaneously groping and fondling each other served as foreplay. James slid his eager cock into his wife’s equally eager pussy as soon as she was able to make herself horizontal on the bed. She felt the walls of her sex gush with desire as soon as he reached its depth. She’d been waiting for their reunion for a week and it was proving worth the wait.
James had managed just about six thrusts when the couple heard a familiar voice calling from the foyer. “Sarah? Sarah, are you home?”
“Shit, it’s my mom,” Sarah sighed breathlessly, her well-conditioned muscles still clenched around her husband’s cock, the irony of being caught in the act by her mother not escaping her.
James stopped. “Are you sure it’s not Rachel? She can come up and join in if she wants.” He was determined to resume their activities.
“Damn it!” Sarah groaned as she heard footsteps plodding up the stairs.
James slid out of Sarah and into his boxers which had been tossed on the floor beside the bed. Sarah wrapped the sheet around her just in time to see the silvery gray head of her mother, Kathy Lynde, poke into the doorway from the hall. Unlike most mothers who catch their daughters in the act, Kathy simply offered up a glittering trail of laughter as she headed back down the stairs. “Forget I’m here! Just come on down when you’re ready!” she sang between beats of laughter.
Sarah glanced over at James, who had already added a pair of shorts and a t-shirt over the boxers, concealing all of her favorite body parts. “Well, aren’t you going to get dressed?” he asked.
“She said when we’re ready. We could finish first!” Sarah suggested, climbing off the bed.
“You want me to fuck you while your mom waits down
stairs?” he asked incredulously. “Seriously? That’s fucked up, Sarah.”
“I don’t want you to fuck me,” she corrected him. “I want you to make love to me. She understands. She knows we haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“I think the shop is closed,” James sighed, looking down at the place where his impressive erection had been moments before the interruption.
“Alright,” she sighed, throwing on her nightie which was smattered with tiny pink rosebuds and edged in lace. James could see the outline of her nipples protruding through the flimsy fabric.
Sarah was not the least bit self-conscious around anyone, and that included her mother. She bounded down the stairs and found Kathy Lynde stirring creamer into her coffee.
“Sorry, dear,” the older woman apologized. “I guess I didn’t realize you two would already be in bed. I’m so sorry that I interrupted your lovemaking!” Her deep brown eyes twinkled when she said the word “lovemaking.” Sarah thought James was going to fall over from embarrassment.
Sarah’s mother and her mother-in-law, Mrs. McAllister could not be any more different. Mrs. McAllister was a conservative Catholic woman who revered all things traditional. For her, marriage was a sacred bond between man and his wife, the former being the head of the household. Marriage meant monogamy and eternity. Till death do us part, et cetera.
Sometimes Sarah wished she was wired for a more conventional relationship, but she found after her first marriage failed that convention was not for her. She also found that her heart was too big to limit herself to only loving one person. James had not originally been able to identify with Sarah’s polyamorous leanings, not until he found himself caught in his own love triangle.
Several months after meeting Sarah, James proposed to his former high school sweetheart, Maggie Carson. But despite his intention to marry Maggie and separate himself from Sarah in the form of a deployment to Afghanistan, he couldn’t deny his strong feelings for the beautiful sociology professor who had started out as a friend with benefits.
Maggie met his ideal concept of a wife: she was his age, she hailed from his hometown, and she was Catholic. Sarah was older, had children, and was anything but traditional. But none of that mattered once he was able to admit the connection he felt with Sarah transcended their differences.
Kathy Lynde threw her arms around her daughter and kissed her cheek affectionately. “How are my babies?” she asked, referring to Abigail and Owen, her grandchildren.
“I’m a little worried about Abby,” Sarah admitted. “But Owen is fine. Not sure he is going to want to come home next week.”
“Why are you worried about My Abigail?” her mother inquired, eyebrow raised quizzically.
“Well, she looked less than thrilled when she met her roommate. And she’s just not as outgoing or social as I remember being when I was her age. I guess that comes from her dad."
"You weren't that outgoing either," Kathy reminded her daughter. "It took quite a bit to bring you out of your shell. Drama Club helped when you were in high school, but I remember you feeling a little lost in the shuffle when you first got to college. You were lucky to connect with a group of friends pretty quickly though."
"She'll be fine," James interjected. "She has a good head on her shoulders. And she's not the kind of person to hang out with someone just so she won't be lonely. She'll find some quality, like-minded friends; it just might take her a little while to get settled in."
"Of course, you're both right," Sarah conceded. "I guess I'm just feeling so far away from her and powerless." She hated feeling out of control.
Kathy smiled, her eyes still twinkling. "Welcome to parenting an adult," she said in her soothing voice. "But don't worry, it gets easier."
***
Abby had thought somewhere along the line, quite lucidly and deliberately: This is not my first time. My first time was with Tyler. But it sure feels like my first time all over again. She made that realization because the butterflies dancing in her stomach were at least as frenetic as the butterflies the night she lost her virginity to her first boyfriend. That occasion was marked by a fumbling tangle of hands, fingers, legs and other appendages. In other words, it was not something she cared to dwell on. That probably factored into the perception as well.
Her first time with Bree was completely different, like she was losing her virginity to a different species. The difference was in the way she finished each of Bree's breaths in her own lungs, swallowing them down her throat like they were single, pure drops of nectar. It was in the soft silk of her golden limbs, the gentle pressure of her lips, and her hot, lusty sighs. It was in the way their distinct bodies began to move together as one entity, mirroring each other as they joined in the dance.
Abby didn't know that's how it could be with a girl. It never seemed like something was missing, namely a cock. She found it so much more natural, the rhythm of it, the synchronicity. If she and Bree were books, they would have both been turned to the same page.
And...Bree was the first to taste her. It was something Tyler had never attempted. Bree slid her satiny skin down Abby's body until her tongue came to rest right at her sex. Abby could feel her hot, moist breath exhale against her lips and the vibrations of her deep moans throbbing against her clitoris. The electricity of the sound bolted up her spine, and her hips began to move uncontrollably. It seemed as though Bree was gradually working her entire face between Abby’s lips, unfurling her like a blossom, drawing out her essence.
Abby had never climaxed with Tyler. With him, she was merely a sheath, a mechanism for his pleasure. She remembered lying beneath him like a doll, waiting for him to finish playing with her. She learned to recognize the signs that the end was near: a sudden halt, shudder, and a cry into the still air around her. Then it was over.
Bree let Abby take a turn revealing her endgame; she could write the script of her own climax. She had reached orgasm in private, under the direction of her own fingers and imagination, but with Bree she shared it with a partner for the first time. And when she felt herself slipping off that edge, there was only a gasp, a surprise that it was happening, and happening so deliberately, so intensely.
It was a performance she would eventually learn to master, to let herself teeter on that edge, building the tension before falling off. She learned to control her vocalizations and show gratitude to her partner for her tenacity and selflessness. It’s like they always say: practice makes perfect.
***
Late that night, after Kathy, Rachel and Rachel’s brood had gone home, Sarah collapsed into her husband’s arms, completely exhausted. James stroked his fingertips from her thick, dark hair, across her shoulder and down the curve of her hip. “Don’t tell me you’re too tired to get it on,” he sighed. “I’ve been waiting for this moment all day.”
Sarah laughed softly. “I know, baby. I can muster up the energy for you, I promise.” She shifted onto her back and began to pull him on top of her. His weight squeezed the air out of her lungs as she adjusted to accommodate his bulky frame. She ran her fingers across his muscular shoulders and down his bulging triceps. She had missed the feel of his body pressing against her.
His hungry mouth nibbled at her ear and made a trail of kisses down her neck. Despite her exhaustion, Sarah felt her body begin to respond to his attention, as it always did, as it always had. In mere seconds, the pressure of his stiff cock against her thigh had her pussy salivating for him.
She parted her legs and guided him inside of her. The sound he made as the last of his thick, seven inches reached the depths of her was something between a moan and a sigh of contentment. It conveyed the message, “I’m home.”
She wrapped her legs around him, driving him deeper inside, rotating her hips so that she could grind her clit into his pelvis. Why is it that it doesn’t matter how many times we do this, it always feels perfect? she wondered.
After they both came, she nestled in the crook of his arm again, in her spot. His chest hair tickled
her nose a little, but there was something so comforting and soothing about lying there that she didn’t even mind the sensation. She debated breaking the silence that had enshrouded them as they both recovered from their efforts.
“Amethyst is sure getting big,” Sarah sighed, remembering the adorable way her best friend’s baby girl toddled across the kitchen earlier that evening.
“I know,” James replied. “She’s really cute. I love the way she calls you ‘Sis;’ it’s so funny.”
“I think it’s hard for little ones to say ‘Sarah,’” she guessed. “But she sure seems to have your name down pat.”
“Have you given any more thought to what the fertility doctor said?” James asked, shifting the conversation in a related tangent to the appointment they’d had shortly before she’d left for Colorado.
I was afraid of him asking that, Sarah reacted. Truthfully, she had given a lot of thought to what the doctor had said. He’d advised James and Sarah that they had a choice between reattaching Sarah’s fallopian tubes to try for a natural conception and doing in vitro fertilization. The former meant recovering from surgery, then leaving it up to nature. IVF afforded them a possibly quicker turnaround, particularly if it was successful on the first round. Plus the embryos could be tested to ensure they were genetically viable before transfer.
It wasn’t the choice between the two options that had flummoxed Sarah. It was more the choice to become a parent again. She had promised James over a year ago…no, she corrected herself, I promised him over two years ago during our camping trip to Assateague that I would have his baby. But now the time had come: she was 39 years old and the window for becoming a mother again was closing a little more each year.
She loved her children, and she loved being a mother. But when she looked at them, growing up, becoming the humans they were meant to be, she couldn’t help but appreciate how independent they had become. She hadn’t forgotten how much work a newborn was. And a toddler. Did she have the requisite energy at 39 to chase after an active baby and teach fulltime?
The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set) Page 68