Second Chance for Romance полностью

She’s lost some of the baby fat she had in high school. A lot like you,as a matter of fact. (Oh, you looked great, by the way. I know I toldyou that—on my knees, on my back, on top of you, ha ha!—but youstill make my heart go pitter-pat.) Hmm. I need to take a break fromwriting. My hand is getting cramped and a certain other area needssome attention. Be right back!

I set the letter aside and imagined Gina playing with herself. Was she using her fingers or her vibrator? What did she call it? Pinky? I pictured her dark, swollen pussy lips, slick with moisture as she masturbated.

My thoughts turned to Heather and my seventeenth birthday. I remembered how her breasts had bounced as I’d fucked her. Then I pictured her on her knees, sucking my dick with Gina. I had to reach for a handful of Kleenex in a hurry. I stifled a groan and blew a huge load into the wad of tissues.

My breathing slowly returned to normal as I cleaned up and reached for the letter.

Much better! I was thinking of that time on your birthday, withHeather and me. Remember how many times we did it? God! I’dalmost forgotten those days, how much fun we had in high school. We

were so lucky. You were, especially. So many girls wanted to screwyou. But you were mine! They were so jealous. I was happy to share,but Hands off, girls! He’s taken. Ha ha! God, we were so young then.

I mean, not like we’re old now, but you know what I mean. There’s abig difference between 17 and 20. Like, huge.

Anyway, now that I can think straight again… Did you take careof a certain problem too? I hate that you probably had to use yourhand. I would’ve taken care of things for you if I’d been there. I’venever been so jealous of Kleenex in my life. I probably shouldn’t getstarted again, or I’ll never finish this letter!

She went on to talk about Heather and how they planned to get together again. She wrote about her life too, about classes and friends. She knew I didn’t really like the sorority—I partly blamed them for our breakup—but she slipped in a few details. Regan was dating a new guy who wasn’t a Greek.

Things were going well so far. The sorority itself was planning a fall formal with a “brother fraternity” (wasn’t that redundant?). They had a bikini car wash fundraiser planned. She thought it was stupid, but she’d do it, she said.

I finished the letter and jerked off again, thinking about her and Heather together in Los Angeles. I could fly out and join them, I thought. That’d be fun. And neither of them would feel guilty in the morning.

The message was clear, and the little head agreed: I should forget about Christy and get back together with Gina. I picked up her letter and read it again from start to finish.

Afterward I sat at my desk and pulled out some stationery. I filled three pages front and back. I didn’t pour out my heart and confess eternal love, but I didn’t write about my daily routine either. Mostly I talked about the good times Gina and I had had together, from camp to high school to our trip to Europe. I also apologized for my first letter. I felt guilty for not taking more time and making it more personal. When I was done, I folded the pages and stuffed them into an envelope.

The next evening I was reading in my studio when Christy tapped on the doorframe. I closed the book and held my place with a finger.

“What’s up?” I said.

She shrugged. “I was next door by myself and thought you might like some company.”

“Sure, whatever.” I opened my book and picked up where I’d left off.

She slid into the empty chair. “Whatcha reading?”

I showed her the cover.

“Sappho: A New Translation,” she read aloud. “A new translation of what?”

“Poetry.”

“Really?”

“Mmm hmm.” I went back to reading. Translation: leave me alone.