A Promise of Passion

by M. E. Nesser

  “Is this what you really want?” I asked her.

  “I think it’s for the best,” she said. “I just don’t want either of us to think we missed out on anything. You understand that, don’t you, B?”

  ”Yeah, I guess. I just don’t want anybody else.”

  “Neither do I, silly. But I want us to make sure so we can end up together forever and ever. I don’t want to have any regrets. I know I’d never cheat on you, so I think this is something we have to do.”

  That was how my slutty freshman year of college began. I was on a coed hall, and there was nothing like watching the girls walk back to their dorm rooms in a towel after a shower. I hated to admit it, but Katie was right. It would have been foolish to deprive us of experiencing other people. We needed to know that we were meant to be together forever, and we couldn’t do that until we had some experience with other people.

  I got a lot of experience the first semester. There were so many hot girls on my hall, that it felt like I was taking a different girl to my room on a pretty regular basis. It definitely wasn’t every night, because I had to study hard to maintain my grades. But I had sex with a lot more girls than I ever thought I would in such a short period of time. It was amazing. I didn’t feel the emotional connection that I did with Katie, but all of the girls were so eager to please that I loved every minute of it. There were some things I wouldn’t do, however. Chicks loved giving head, and I loved receiving it. I didn’t reciprocate, though, unless I was drunk. If it wasn’t Katie, then I didn’t really want to do that with anyone. Having a chick suck on me felt good. It was impersonal, and that was how I liked it. Going down on a girl seemed to create a bond that I didn’t want to have with just anyone.

  Chicks would let me do anything with them. I tried every position possible. I even had anal sex with a few. Katie and I never did anal, but I wish we had. It felt awesome to have sex in a chick’s ass. It was so tight and felt so amazing. I’m not sure how Katie would feel about it, but I knew that I would have to talk to her about the possibility of letting me do that to her. The girls I screwed that way said it felt really good, so I wanted Katie to experience that feeling. It actually saddened me that I had experienced it with someone other than Katie. I still loved that she was my first.

  I always wore a condom. I didn’t want to bring anything creepy back to Katie. Even though I was having a good time screwing all those girls, I knew I’d end up with Katie eventually.

  43

  I thought I was being open-minded and sensible when I told Bryce we should sleep with other people; the actual thought of it terrified me. I didn’t want to be with other guys. I wanted Bryce, and only Bryce. But we made an agreement, and I figured I should test the waters and see what I was missing. I didn’t want to be ten years into our marriage and have regrets. Sadly, it didn’t take long for me to regret making the suggestion.

  Freshman year of college is most definitely a “fucking frenzy.” Everybody tries to fuck everyone. It’s insane. College is just a massive group of horny young men and women living together with no parents anywhere in the vicinity. And what happens when guys and girls are cohabitating with no supervision? They fuck. They fuck anybody. They fuck often. It’s insane.

  I was propositioned continuously during the first couple of weeks, but I waited until I found a guy who turned me on before I hooked up with anyone. It was so hard not to compare every guy to Bryce.

  I found that most guys I hooked up with were way too anxious to get to the actual “fucking” part and forgot about all the good stuff that leads up to it. The anticipation of a toe-curling orgasm can be just as exciting as the actual act in itself. Who doesn’t like to kiss and touch and pant for another person? By the time a man enters you, you should be so sexually frustrated that the only thing that is going to save your life and your sanity is to have all of that intense pressure pounded out of you. Believe me, my man could seriously pound me. It was the best feeling in the entire world. It was hard not to compare other guys to B. I loved all the time and care he took when we were together. I guess I assumed sex would be like that with everyone. Boy, was I wrong.

  I know they say that size doesn’t matter, but “they” are totally full of shit. Unfortunately, I found this out the hard way. I didn’t think it would make a difference, but it did. If you’ve ever been with a man with a small penis, then you’ll be able to relate to that moment of panic when you can’t tell if it’s in you or not. I remember thinking one time that I would have a better time with a super plus tampon than I would with the sad little appendage between a guy’s legs. One time, I actually stopped it from happening using the old adage that “sex would ruin our friendship.” What I meant was that his small penis would have made it impossible for me to look at him the same way again. I felt bad for thinking that way. It was an asshole thing to feel, and an even more asshole thing to say. But it was honest. Only something big and hard could ever soothe my aching body. I never thought it’d be necessary to examine a man’s “package” before I had sex with him. Being in college was proving to be educational in more ways than one.

  Endurance was another big problem for me during my experimental time at Yale. I always thought that rapid fire should be left to soldiers. In the bedroom, a man needs to find a longer, more satisfying approach. It drove me crazy when I felt like a guy was bungee jumping off my beaver. Once his ride was over, I was left behind in my dam, wet and miserable. It felt inconsiderate and juvenile, to say the least. Being left frustrated and unsatisfied would really piss me off. Fast, unfulfilling sex was such a waste of time. I assumed that I would climax every time, since I always did with Bryce. I was wrong.

  Another problem I had sleeping with other men was that a lot of them took forever to recover. When a man was young and healthy, I thought, he should be able to recover in a pretty timely fashion so we didn’t have to wait until the next day for another round. I would have been happy to give any guy a polite amount of time to pump up the volume, but several hours between rounds just sucked. Talk about being sexually frustrated! It didn’t take long for me to develop a pretty shitty attitude about having sex with anyone else.

  The first guy was sweet, until we hooked up the first time. I didn’t even realize that he had entered me until he panted hard and collapsed on me. He didn’t think to offer to finish me off—he was happy to take his release and call it a day. It was such a bizarre encounter. I wasn’t even sure what happened. It was obvious he would need a long time to recover, and I definitely didn’t want a second round.

  The next guy was no better. He was an incredible kisser and a really nice guy. I felt confident that sleeping with him had to be better than my first college liaison. I felt so embarrassed for him, because his penis never got very hard. He was also very jerky and awkward when he was on top of me. There was no chemistry once we were naked and we never found any rhythm. It was such a disappointment. He was such a good-looking, muscular guy and I was psyched for a night of mind-blowing sex. It didn’t happen.

  I’m not sure what was up with guy number three. His penis was actually crooked. I hadn’t even known that was a thing. It felt like he was stabbing me in the side. I kept trying to reposition my body so it didn’t hurt, but it didn’t work. Even though I felt bad, I certainly didn’t want to continue having any kind of relationship with him. He was a nice enough guy, but I wasn’t willing to endure having sex with him again. It was quite uncomfortable and I was pretty sore the next day. I was grateful that my academic schedule was so rigorous. It kept me distracted from my dismal sex life. I didn’t realize how amazing I had it until I went looking for it somewhere else.

  Number four couldn’t stay hard. It was so strange. I’d never experienced that before. I gently asked him what was wrong. He said that he couldn’t handle how beautiful I was. I intimidated him, he admitted. I think it was all the pot that he smoked, and it had nothing to do with my beauty. I’m not positive about that, though. Bryce and I didn’t do drugs, but I heard it could
affect a man that way. I didn’t want him to feel bad, so I told him I had to get to the library, and I left his room.

  Contestant number five could see his reflection in the mirror. He was a really good-looking guy with a pretty amazing body. He was on the football team and worked out a lot. I was so excited for this guy to rock my world. Sadly, that didn’t happen. There was little foreplay. After a few minutes, he told me he liked to do it “doggie style.” He flipped me over so I was propped up on my hands and knees. He spent the whole time watching himself in the mirror as he thrust me from behind. He didn’t touch my clit or try to kiss or caress me. He just pounded me from behind and watched his every move in the glass. I couldn’t believe what a selfish, narcissistic ass he was. When he finished, he asked me to leave. It was humiliating.

  Five was the magic number. I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided that no sex was better than bad sex. I just couldn’t believe sex could be bad when it had always been so good for me. I dreamt about the following summer. All I wanted was Bryce, with his strong libido, big penis and generous sexual nature. He cared about my satisfaction, which was so hot. He never came too soon. He always made sure I came first, unless he knew I was going to come with him. That’s what I thought sex should be like. I wanted to have sex with Bryce, and only Bryce. But for now, I had to be happy taking care of myself when I felt frustrated. At least I knew how to get myself off.

  I sent Bryce a letter at the beginning of October telling him how much I missed him and how much I wanted to see him. I asked him if he was going home to Connecticut for Thanksgiving. It took about a week for me to hear back that he’d be home for three days over the holiday. I was so psyched: I’d get to see him after all. I knew he’d have to play squash over the vacation, but at least I’d see him for a few days.

  44

  I hooked up with a lot of girls the first month at college, but I didn’t expect to be interested in anybody but Katie. All of a sudden, I was. Her name was Ashley. She was from Nashville. She had this adorable accent. She had long blond hair and the most gorgeous green eyes. We lived in the same dorm and had seen each other at several parties. The first time we slept together, we were drunk. Then I saw her the next day and asked her to go to a movie that was showing in the quad. I was psyched when she said yes. We agreed to meet in the quad at seven.

  I went to the post office after I saw Ashley. There was a letter from Katie. My heart started racing. I had this strange, guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach. Katie had written that she missed me and couldn’t wait to see me. I missed her, too, but I was kind of liking testing the waters all of a sudden—and I found myself really liking Ashley.

  I sent her a letter back saying that I was going to be home for three days over the Thanksgiving holiday. I was excited to see her, but I was nervous as well. I was becoming confused about my feelings for Katie. We’d thought dating other people would secure the bond between us. Thing is, I wasn’t sure that was the case with me.

  I spent the next couple of weeks dating Ashley exclusively. It was pretty amazing. She was sexy and funny and passionate, and she couldn’t seem to get enough of me. And that was OK, because I couldn’t get enough of her. I was intoxicated by her scent and her smile and basically everything about her. She was different from Katie, so I didn’t find myself making comparisons. Her roommate got really sick and had to leave for the semester, so she had a single dorm room. I spent almost every night with her. It was such a blast. We had so much alone time we were able to have sex all the time. She was not shy, so we did anything and everything we could imagine. It was amazing. I went to classes and made sure I got all my schoolwork done. I worked out every morning and went to squash practice every afternoon. When it was time to crash at night, I went to Ashley. I never thought I’d have this kind of connection with another girl, but I did, and it was fabulous.

  Thanksgiving week came, and I dreaded going home. I knew Katie was excited to see me. I didn’t know how I would feel. I only spoke to her a few times on the phone, because it was expensive to make long distance phone calls. Every time I heard her voice, I felt guilty for the feelings I was having for Ashley. I was a nervous wreck riding back to Connecticut. Ashley knew I had a girlfriend my senior year of high school, but I was pretty vague about our relationship now. I didn’t tell Ashley that I was going to be seeing Katie; I knew it would make her suspicious, and I wasn’t exactly sure what would happen when we saw each other. OK, I was pretty sure we’d hook up, but who knew? Maybe she’d want to stay on a hiatus.

  Who was I kidding? I knew we’d sleep together, and then what was I supposed to do? I didn’t know if I would have to tell Ashley about Katie. And I sure as hell didn’t want to tell Katie about Ashley. I felt like such a shit. This was going to be my official first week of hell.

  I got home Wednesday night, and as soon as I walked in the door, I heard the phone ringing. As expected, it was Katie. She wanted to come over. My folks had a charity dinner that night, so I was home alone. When Katie walked in the door, I forgot about everything else. I picked her up in my arms and starting kissing her with as much passion as I could muster. Our feelings were as strong as ever. Ashley didn’t cross my mind. I missed the way Katie felt and the way she smelled. Before I was cognizant of what was going on, we were half dressed on my bed, clawing at each other like our lives depended on it. It was just as awesome as I remembered. I loved this girl, and I wanted to make love to her for hours.

  Katie was still my everything. How could I have forgotten that? All of the feelings from high school came flooding back. I missed this girl. I loved this girl. But I had a problem: I didn’t have a clue what I’d do about Ashley.

  45

  Our Thanksgiving reunion was heaven. We must have done it close to a dozen times over the holiday. He had learned a few things in college, which gave us even more things to do in bed. I didn’t think too deeply about how he’d learned them; I just enjoyed doing them with him. A part of me prayed he’d just watched more porn while he was away.

  At one point, he sat in a chair and suggested that I straddle him. The position was deep, and my clit rubbed against his body with the most perfect amount of friction. I loved this new way of doing it. It was very intense. I told him that I liked the new ways we were having sex and was glad he was suggesting different ways of doing it. Instead of shedding light on how he’d learned about the new positions, he responded by sucking my mouth with such fervor I was left speechless.

  Another time, he put several pillows below my ass, climbed on top of me, and made love to me that way. The position of my body was perfect, and I was able to come just as quickly as he did. It was intimate; he was on top, and the pillows glued our midsections together. I grabbed his hips and encouraged him get as close to me as possible. The feeling was indescribable. I made him do that position again before our time together was over.

  We went our separate ways for the actual Thanksgiving meal. My parents hosted my extended family at our house. My Aunt Sandy and Uncle Jack usually made Thanksgiving dinner, but my mother still worried about her since her operation, so she offered to do it. There were about fifteen people at our house, and I loved being home again. I spent all morning helping my mom cook, which was something I missed doing. I didn’t have to cook in the dorms. There was a cafeteria. I had a small fridge with drinks in my room. That was the extent of my kitchen. I couldn’t believe how much I missed it. I also missed hanging out with my mom.

  Bryce and his family went to his grandmother’s house for dinner. We ate around one and they had dinner around three. Around six o’clock, Bryce called my house.

  “Hey Katie, how’d your day going?” he asked me.

  “It’s good, but when am I going to see you again? I feel like we’re running out of time together,” I said sadly.

  “I know. I feel the same way. We’re in luck, though. I have some good news.

  I asked my mom if I could leave gram’s house soon so we could spend a little time together since I only
have until Saturday morning before I have to get back. Thank goodness they love you, because she said it would fine if I snuck out a little early. They were just pulling the games out, so I think we will probably have a couple hours alone,”

  “Sounds like a plan. How long will it take you to get home?” I asked him.

  “I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. And I was wondering…how would you feel about taking a shower together? I had to help my grandpa move some furniture and I got all sweaty. I need to take a shower and thought maybe we could take one together.” he suggested.

  “It sounds like a great idea. I promise to get you squeaky clean B,” I assured him.

  For the first time since we started fooling around, I actually felt a little shy around him. He locked his bedroom door and turned to kiss me. That helped to alleviate some of my unease. I think Bryce must have sensed that I wasn’t completely comfortable. He explored my mouth like it was the first time we’d kissed, thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth then sucking on my tongue like he was sucking on my clit. The feelings he was stirring between my legs made me want to ride him right there, standing up in the middle of his room.

  “You’re getting wound up, Kitten.” He smiled and looked into my eyes. Would I ever get tired of looking into his big blue eyes with those long curly eyelashes?

  “Maybe we should get dirty before we get clean,” I suggested.

  “I have a better idea. Let’s see what happens if we try to get dirty while we get clean,” he said as he grabbed my hand and let me into his bathroom.

  When the water temperature seemed right, we stepped into the shower together. He positioned me under the water and helped wet my hair down. I closed my eyes and titled my head back. I felt his breath on my neck and around my ears, and I shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “Just the opposite,” I admitted.