I spend way too much of my time hunched over the computer in my home office chatting, looking at and reading erotica, and living an extremely proactive fantasy life.
I've often thought that were I to experience some sort of actual fulfillment of those fantasies, it would come via meeting someone in an AOL chat or something of that ilk, and in a way I guess I was right. In reality, though, it happened through a much more apparently innocent set of circumstances.
Three months ago, I came across a website which is an online database of high school alumni. My class, from my high school, is particularly active there. Fully 80% of our class has registered and is available for chat or e-mail via this service.
I have reconnected with dozens of friends and former classmates, all in all a terrific experience. Most extraordinary, however, is the meaningful exchanges I have had with people I wasn't particularly close to in school, but through some shared experience or similar life circumstance, now find I share some stronger relationship.
The deepest of these post-school connections came with Sharon, who was a shy, studious, and beautiful member of the modern dance team in school. We had been in mutual classes, but while she was in a popular clique, I was a class-cutting, smoke-in-the-can, class clown. We knew each other, but we never spent much time hanging out.
Unbeknownst to her, she was the subject of a daily adolescent fantasy for me our junior year. She sat in the desk directly in front of me in Physics. Every morning at 9:04 she would slip into the chair behind her desk, the freshly showered and perfumed scent of her would waft over me, which would've been enough in and of itself. But, and I ought to say "butt", it was her ass that drove me wild.
Her incredible rear end would slide back against the chair back support and the thin, single steel bar would accentuate the natural crevice between her cheeks, pulling her skirt or pants taut around her perfect hips.
For an adolescent 16 year old, the effect was as riveting as the Food Network to a starving man. The unrequited arousal was the star of nearly every fantasy, and the focus of my every masturbation for the entire year. I was fortunate to even pass the class. Only my fear of her disapproval and the possibility of being dropped from the class kept me from ignoring the subject matter entirely. I am sure that my current fetish for a great ass has its root in those first period fantasies.
All this was squeezed from the recesses of my mind when I received an e-mail notice from that alumni site, which originated from her. Delighted, excited and with her still being a nubile 17 year old in my mind, I read that e-mail as if it were a Publisher's Clearinghouse notice. What are the chances really? How can I possibly be so lucky? This must be some sort of extravagant ploy by a soon to be ex-friend from high school. I couldn't believe that out of the 200+ classmates, she had remembered me distinctly enough to e-mail me. I wouldn't have thought she would've remembered me at all.
We exchanged several friendly e-mails, updating each other about our current lives, spouses, kids, jobs, etc. I told her I now lived in South Florida; she still lived in a suburb of New York. We laughed over old friends and teachers, and I probably said in closing once or twice, "Well, if you're ever in South Florida..." or something along those lines. But after half a dozen conversations, the thread just petered out.
After not having heard from her in a couple weeks, I had gotten the old yearbook out and her sweet young face and body in those 15-year-old pictures brought back more than memories. I could picture that ass in that chair so clearly that my crotch started to twitch. I adjusted myself in my pants, rubbed myself a little and would've consummated the fantasy if the phone hadn't suddenly rung. "Hi..it's me...Sharon."
"I was just thinking about you!" I said, totally honestly, while smiling to myself and rezipping my fly, "What are you up to?"
"Well, I am down here in Miami for a convention and I have the night free. I was hoping you would like to have dinner or a drink or something?"
And just like that, I was showered, shaved and cruising down I-95 headed for her hotel. I walked into the lobby, found the bank of elevators and headed for her room on the 12th floor. It seemed to take hours to traverse those twelve stories. What would she look like? What would she be wearing? How much older did the 10 lbs more weight and 10 lbs less hair make me look? We had decided on going casual and just getting together to relive old memories, so I wasn't dressed to the nines, just a white Oxford dress shirt and a pair of pressed khakis. When I knocked on the door, and I heard the lock click, I caught my breath and waited with anticipation.
I can't say she hadn't changed a bit since high school. She was more beautiful than ever. She had the beautiful face of a woman, in place of her sweet girlish face, but her body had aged like a fine wine. I had known that her career as a choreographer would've kept her in great shape, but I wasn't prepared for the physical perfection that was framed by the doorway. Her breasts, which I had remembered as sweet little handfuls, had blossomed into magnificent orbs of perfection, barely contained by the tight, low cut, black dance leotard she wore tucked into a classic pair of jeans.
"I'm so happy you were free tonight!" she gushed as she hugged me and pressed herself tightly against me, "Why don't you come in?"
