I nodded yes before resting my forehead to hers. I did love her, nevertheless enamored by the surreal fact that I had just fucked the living shit out of a woman so beautiful.
“Oooh baby,” Sharon gasped, quickly embracing me as her voice cracked. “I thought maybe you just wanted to see what it was like, then leave.”
“No, no, no.” I reassured her with a flurry of delicate kisses. “You just have no idea how many years I’ve dreamed of you like this.”
Sharon pressed her mouth to mine as she motioned for us to roll over; getting on top while my cock was still safely tucked deep inside. We made out for some time as I got the opportunity to really feel every square inch of Sharon’s succulent body. On her knees and hunched over allowed me full access to that buxom ass, all rounded out and slightly tight. My hands explored every square inch of her sweeping cheeks, tracing the deep warm cleave separating those two taut pumpkins of pure ripe ass.
Sharon and I made love three more times, and at sunrise the next morning, we were side by side, watching the sunrise in each other’s loving arms. It had been a blessed night of obtained fantasies and newly discovered love. The effects of alcohol were long gone as reality set in for us to contend with… what to do next. Sharon let me rest my head between her buxom chest as I drifted off to sleep, happier than I had ever been in my short eighteen years. I felt loved, and not at all guilty or regretful in the least bit.
Around 5pm that day, I awoke by myself in Sharon’s bed, flat on my stomach and still nude. Dazed by where I was, I thought that perhaps what took place was just another dream. Climbing out of bed, I quickly dressed to find no one in the house. It took me a few minutes to search, and was sad to find that Sharon had obviously left. I stayed for a couple of hours before realizing she wasn’t coming back, so I grabbed my coat and walked out. I couldn’t understand what had happened, and why Sharon didn’t even leave me at least a note.
I got home that day to the usual bullshit of my mom’s bad mood, wondering where I was and why. Ignoring her as I made my way to the shower, all I could think about was if I had done something to upset or provoke Sharon. I just couldn’t understand this sudden turn of events.
That day evolved into two, developing into a week and into a month of no contact with Sharon whatsoever. I became infatuated with her, contending with the loss of her son and the gain of his mother as a lover. It was a mixed period of confusion, frustration, and anger over the whole thing. All I wanted to know was if I had done anything wrong. I went by her house, drove by her job, and called and called… never an answer or anything. One day, I finally asked the receptionist who answered the phone if Sharon was there, and she told me that she had taken a leave of absence, and was in Florida. (Mind you, this was in the last 80’s when privacy wasn’t that big of a deal.) Apparently, she had left the day after we made love, and hadn’t been seen since.