After our first encounter

After our first encounter I wish I could say El and I slept together
most every night. Technically that would be true. But it would also
imply we had sex most every night, which would not be accurate at all.

The morning after our impromptu romp I woke when she closed the door,
on her way to the shower. It was just after 7 am. Apparently she was
always an early riser. She returned after about 45 minutes, wrapped
in her terrycloth robe, wet hair plastered to her head. She looked

“Good morning,” I said, smiling. She smiled shyly back, saying
nothing. “How are you?”

She opened her closet door, standing behind it, which blocked her from
my view. “Good,” she said. I heard sounds of her rummaging for her
underwear and other things.



“Ellen. Come here for a sec.”

She paused. Shut the door. She was now in her bra and panties. She
walked over to her bed, where I still sat. She wouldn’t look at me.
Not at my face, not at my still-naked breasts.

“Are you ok, Ellen?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Bullshit. I stood up. She took a step back. I gently grabbed her
hands. “Ellen, look at me, sweetie.” She did, finally. “Are you

“I…” She looked away, briefly, but her eyes came back to mine. “I’m
just trying to process everything, Julia.” Tears began to form in her
eyes. Not spilling over, but impossible to miss.

“Honey, it’s ok. Take your time, ok?” I didn’t want to push her away.
She smiled, a mostly genuine smile. Still shy, unsure, but still a
smile. Suddenly she hugged me, pulling me tight to her. She put her
head against mine, which was a bit awkward because of the slight
height difference.

“I did enjoy it, Julia. I…” She giggled. “God, it felt good.
Really. I just… I just don’t know where to go with it. I… I’m not
making sense, am I?”

“No no, I understand. And it’s ok, really. Think things through. I’m
not asking you to marry me or something, ” she giggled at that, “or to
be my only lover. And if nothing happens again it’s fine, really.”

Funny thing was, I meant it. I honestly wanted her to be happy. If I
could bring her sexual pleasure then I sure as hell was up for it. If
she needed a close friend, I would devote my time to her. Thinking
about it later, I realized I loved her.

Now, to be clear on this: I make a distinction between loving someone
and being “in love.” Some don’t, but I do. I love my friends. But
“in love” was something different. I never realized that until my time
with Ellen.

So we continued our morning as normal. She got up and went to
breakfast, I went back to bed. I would be a routine for us for the
next two years. That night set a precedent as well; I came in much
later than she did, finding her already in bed. As I was undressing
she called me softly.

“Hey El, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s ok. Just dozing a little. Waiting for you.” That made me stop.
“Want to join me?” That made my heart beat faster. I slid under the
covers, finding her nice and warm and cuddly. We snuggled together and
slept. It was wonderful.

We continued to make love about every other week, on average. A few
times she all but jumped me. No pressure, but very tender, not
casual. Heartfelt.

Most of the way through spring quarter Ellen found an apartment, asked
if I wanted to go in with her. I did. It was fun, buying cheap ass
furniture to make it something like home. I found a fairly nice twin
bed I put in my room. Ellen bought a queen bed.

Our first night she invited me to her room. That first night she took
control of me, lovingly lavishing her tongue on my pussy, my tits,
everywhere else. She brought me off more than once. I would spend many
more nights in that bed with her, most of those nights without sex.

We were not a couple. We both had other lovers — yes, she finally
came out a bit, having a couple serious boyfriends. After our
sophomore year she transfered to another school to pursue her major in
a more prestigious program. We remained friends. Still are friends.

I still consider her my first love. Few people understand that. She’s
married now, with two beautiful children. Her husband and I get along
great, he’s a nice guy. Good to her. He doesn’t know that his wife has
licked my pussy.

I think we’re both happy. I sometimes dream about making love to her
again. It won’t happen, and that’s actually fine with me. But it’s a
pleasant thought. I’m glad she’s still around.