I remember that summer evening like it was today. He walked in the front door and I was never the same after that. I don't know what it was about him. He wasn't what I would consider a dreamboat, although he did have the nicest hair I'd ever seen on a boy; longer than most boys had back then in the rural Southeast (most were crew cuts & flat tops) and it had a bit of a wave. He was actually sort of skinny and his pants were a bit baggy as if they came from a time when he weighed considerably more. But there was something about him that I knew the moment I saw him we would be together. Unfortunately, he was 18 and I was 14 and it became obvious very quickly that being together was not going to be immediately.

He was the best friend of my older sister's boyfriend, so he was over here almost every evening and most weekends, too. Sometimes he'd bring a date. Those times hurt very badly. I tried hard to not wish ill to those girls. It wasn't their fault. But seeing them holding hands or his arm around them was like a kick in my gut. When they'd kiss, I'd go to my room and cry.

Being in love at 14 totally sucks, especially if it isn't returned and the guy is quite out of reach. "Crush" they called it and said I'd get over it. I'd had a few crushes. This was not one. But nobody listened to a 14 year old girl. So I'd be in his presence as long as I could stand it, then I'd go to my room.

Then that horrible day came when he announced he was leaving. Damned war! He had little choice, though. Either enlist, get drafted, or burn his card and move to Canada. Any way, he was gone from my life. It was all I could do to not burst out sobbing. It was also the first time I ever had to leave his presence when he was not with a date. He looked a bit surprised, but never said anything. I heard him later as he was leaving say, "Tell Linda so long for me." I cried all night that night.

I've "known things" as far back as I can remember. I don't mean book learning. I mean I've known if something was going to happen, or if someone was telling the truth, or what the weather was going to be. That type of thing. My friends who believed me thought it was neat. My mom was freaked out about it and made me promise to not do it anymore as if I could turn it off. It was this "talent" that made me know Steve and I would be together. This came to me a few weeks after he'd left, that we were meant to be together and that we would be, eventually.

With the pain of seeing him with other girls still fresh, I vowed that once we were together he would never want for another woman in his life. Remembering my mom's experience with my dad and her subsequent boyfriends, I realized that keeping him happy sexually would be very important. But what's a 14 year old girl to do about that? Simply and painfully, wait. I checked the local library, but backwater Bible-belt libraries are quite skimpy in that department. So I talked to friends, which would have happened anyway, but I paid closer attention and asked more questions. When I turned 16 and could drive, the library in Atlanta, only a couple of hours away, proved much more enlightening.

I studied all I could as often as I could. I snuck into "theaters" in Atlanta's seedier side for visual education. Men's magazines were helpful, especially the articles (I know, cliche). I took every opportunity to experiment, physically, alone and with partners. The Kama Sutra was a text book and I became very interested in many facets of the Hindu culture. I also had an IUD installed and went on the pill as soon as I could so the risk of pregnancy would be subdued.

I counted the days until he would return, until his 4 year enlistment was up. I'd sometimes briefly worry he may reenlist, but my knowing always told me he would come back. I turned 18, graduated high school, went to work as a secretary at a law office, and rented my own home a few blocks from where I grew up. Mom wanted me to go to college, but that had to wait for Steve's return. No way was I going to be away to school when he came home. One day I was visiting my sister, Becky, when her husband Bud came home and announced they were throwing a party that weekend. Steve had gotten a three-month early out and was home. For the first time in a few years, I "went to my room" (actually, my home) and cried.

That Saturday I had the hardest time dressing for the party. I wanted to literally make his dick pop up when he saw me, but I didn't want to look like a slut at my sister's party. I finally chose a halter top that was very flattering and accenting, and a denim miniskirt that offered much promise of what was above the hem. Cleavage, midriff, and legs exposed, with the important parts hidden behind a smart and seasonal outfit. I left the bra behind. A little bounce and some protruding nipples were right in style back then in the days of free love. Thank God for hippies, even if they were rare in our part of the country.

I heard a car park outside and since everyone else was there, I knew it was him. I positioned myself in view of the front door with my back to it as I engaged Doug, one of Bud and Steve's old friends, in a conversation. When Steve walked in, Doug went over and gave him one of the fiercest hugs I believe I've ever seen. "Donâ??t break him" was all I could think (Doug's a big guy). I walked over behind Doug and when he stepped away I was right in front of Steve. OH, MY, GOD! He'd put on weight and was in much better shape than when I'd last seen him. Muscles. Not bulging, but there. Good, common, healthy strength. Tanned. A confidence in his eye I'd never seen before. I almost melted. Part of me did, I felt moisture forming in my crotch.

We stared at each other for a moment; I believe he was as much pleasantly surprised in my changes as I was in his. I felt my nipples harden and knew they were poking out through the material of my halter. He let his eyes drop to my breasts and his eyes widened a bit in confirmation. He then glanced at my legs for an instant before returning to my eyes. My pussy became wetter. I had to touch him.

I threw my arms around his neck and molded my body to his. His dick stiffened and pressed into my crotch. I wanted so badly to hop on him right there. I wanted him in me, my wetness soaking him. I wanted to feel his hardness deep inside, feel him stretching my pussy, his pubic hair against my clit. I wanted to feel his power and give him my softness. I wanted to feel his cum splattering inside me, both against my cervix and my tongue. I wanted to taste all of him. I felt tears forming as I looked up into his eyes. "Iâ??ve missed you so much." I told him. To further impress that I was no longer that 14 year-old girl, I pulled his head down and brushed his lips with the tip of my tongue as I kissed him.

I had to get away before I came while standing there, so I broke our embrace and headed outside to the party, waving for him to follow. I noticed him watching me through the day; guess the outfit was the right one. I couldn't let it end with the party. As the guests began drifting off, I offered to show him around that evening and bring him up to date on the old hometown. Something crossed his face, something between surprise and relief and maybe a touch of lust (although that may have been me). I knew he would say yes before I offered.