The next day Erika confirmed for me that Wenona as as interested in me as I was in her. But, Erika cautioned, Wenona was involved in a love triangle with two of their other roommates--a particularly uncomfortable situation that a few months later would cause Erika to move into an apartment with Janni--and Wenona was as much the problem as the other two roommates. "There are no innocents," she said.
I knew Wenona was close to graduating, and would be moving away after that, so I was pretty sure there was not a lot of potential for a long-term relationship, but I was certain there was sufficient chemistry and attraction for a short-term relationship. "That's okay," I told Erika, "I like damaged women who have a dark side and very definite moral flaws. Besides, I don't want to marry her, I just want to hang out with her and fuck her a few dozen times before she graduates." Nevertheless, I considered myself forewarned.
The the next day I had flowers delivered to Wenona in the lab she worked in, telling her how much I was looking forward to Friday night. However, things changed: I awoke Friday morning to the news that a friend had died the previous night in his sleep. Stan was my age, and had recently married another friend of mine, a single mom with a young daughter Stan had adopted when they married.
There is no pain like that caused by the death of someone so amazing and so young.
Devastated by the news, I decided to drive out to the ocean and spend the day sitting in the sand and listening to the waves. On the way out of town, I stopped to see Erika and Wenona and tell them what had happened, and that instead of going dancing that night I was going to the ocean.
To my surprise, Wenona asked if I'd like some company. I said yes.
It was a great decision. We spent the entire afternoon and evening at the ocean, and it turned out Wenona was the perfect companion: she knew almost instinctively when I wanted to just sit and think, quietly, and she knew when I wanted to talk; and when I wanted to talk, she just let me talk and she listened and empathised. Afterwards, I knew I still didn't have any answers, but I felt a little better despite not having any answers. We drove home in complete silence.
As we neared town, she asked if I'd like some company that night. I said yes, and she suggested I drop her off at her place so she could get her car. She grabbed her Honda and followed me across town. When we got to my place, she grabbed an overnight bag from the boot and followed me into my apartment.
You've got to love a woman who keeps an overnight bag in the boot of her car.
When we got inside, she headed straight to the bedroom, set down her overnight bag, and began taking off all of her clothes. A little surprised, I just stood there and watched in disbelief, until she walked over to me and began helping me out of my clothes. "We're covered in sand, we need to shower. And then I'm going to take you to bed and fuck you and fuck you and fuck you until you forget all about today...even if tomorrow morning you wake up and remember it all again."
I looked at her and suddenly realised this was not a woman I was going to be able to fuck a few dozen times and be okay when we parted ways. Even though I knew any relationship we might develop would have a very definite expiration date, I now realised that when it was over I was going to hurt. This sexy, skinny blonde with perfect tits and amazing ass and gorgeous blue eyes and wonderful smile was going to hurt me. Badly. And there was nothing I could do about it. I had to follow it through to the painful end.
We got into the shower, washed all of the sand from our hair and between our toes, and then got into bed. And then, just as she had promised, Wenona climbed on top of me, guided my cock into her tight, wet pussy, and proceeded to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me until I forgot all about that day.
The next morning I got up early, went and got us coffee and muffins, and brought them back. When we were done eating breakfast, she set her coffee down, climbed on top of me once again, and stroked my cock with her vulva until I was throbbing. Then she slid down on me, pulled her T-shirt off, and rode me until I exploded inside her again. Afterward, she pulled off and straddled me, kissing me while our cum drained out of her cunt and formed a wet spot on my abdomen. Then she led me to the shower, where we fucked again, first me fucking her standing up from behind, then her turning around so that I could fuck her face to face with her leg wrapped around my waist and her perfect tits rubbing against my chest. I didn't care that we wasted an hour's worth of water in the process.
The fact was, I didn't want her to leave. I was already dreading the break-up I knew was coming, and i knew her leaving that morning was going to be the first painful indication of things to come.
As she was leaving, I stopped her at the front door. I still wasn't ready for her to go yet. For the second time in my life, I fucked a woman up against a door. And then she left. Afterward I cried.
I tried to convince myself that the tears were for Stan. But I knew better. I was mourning more than his death.
There is no pain like that caused by the death of someone--or something--so amazing and so young.
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