Friday, August 16, 2002

So every summer when they would come to visit, it was an all-out orgy...lol! There were no limitations on what we could/wanted to do. He was particularly offended if a boyfriend of mine came over, or if I left to go anywhere, but at the same time, he understood. I went to visit him at one point, not even hiding from my grandfather what was going on. I slept in his bed, fucked him on the laundry room floor, in the car, on the kitchen counter...anywhere possible. Two teenagers having a fabulous time exploring, and honestly, completely unaware of the issues that surrounded our relationship. I suppose I have a distorted view of what's right and wrong, but it never ever felt wrong. He was sensitive, and curious, wanting to know if he pleased me, kissing my hands, holding doors, I didn't stop to think it was wrong because he was my everything. How could something that felt so right, be wrong?

He came to visit the summer of 1994...the summer after I'd graduated. He seemed angry with me, and he was territorial with my boyfriend. My boyfriend didn't like him...and things were just *different* between B. and me. I'd made a resolution to not be with him again, thinking I was old enough to make mature decisions, and that I needed to realize he was off limits. We were sitting on the couch watching a movie the night after my birthday, and he reached over and touched me...so went the rest of the vacation, fucking on the top of enormous hay bales, in the tent, on my bed, in the kitchen when everyone was outside. I'm not sure if it's so fabulous because it's so forbidden, or just because I love him? He left and I was heartsick once again, only this time with a boyfriend. I got pregnant that month...and moved in with my boyfriend. I'd just found out he'd cheated on me, and my life was a mess. I'm not sure why I didn't relate the fact that I'd spent the last month cheating on him, but it just wasn't part of the equation. Life went on, my son was born, and I didn't hear from B. at all. He came that summer, and it was terrible. My son was a few months old, and he was somehow angry at me or something? I couldn't figure it out, but I guess I just moved on. My boyfriend and I got married in 97...B. didn't come. Then all of a sudden I got a call from him in 98...on our wedding anniversary of all days. He'd been married, divorced, and had a live in girlfriend now. I sat on the porch talking to him, grinning and realizing how much I'd missed him. He told me he was coming for my mother's wedding, which was in a few weeks.

So all of a sudden the dreams started. Sex has never been great with my husband, so of course the grass was looking MUCH much greener.
I used to think I could just hide this all away. Pretend it had never happened and it would all disapear. I never thought it'd follow me around like a bad cold...or become the center of my life, drowning out everything else. I bought that whole puppy love theory...thinking that at some point B. wouldn't be my everything. My mother had ignored the obvious sexual tension from the minute it started...everyone else whispered quietly about it to each other, but never to us. B. was only a year and a half older than me, my "Uncle" technically, although from the moment I met him (at 12 years old) I was physically attracted to him. Long before I even knew what physical attraction was. Maybe I should explain? My grandfather had a *trophy* wife...something really meant more to hurt my disinterested grandmother, although before he knew it, his adolescent wife had saddled him with 3 more kids, the youngest of which was younger than 5 of his grandchildren. He had long since divorced Katherine (the trophy) and had recently won a custody battle the summer I met B. I was 12...he was 14. We were both too young to know what on earth was going on, but aware of the feeling that things were awkward between us. I assumed he was rude...he assumed I was a snob. My Aunt Rachel was his younger sister, and she was a month younger than me. It was an odd summer, with her quite regularly feeling like the odd one out. We were inseparable, and blissfully unaware of the years of trouble that lay ahead of us both. They left and I missed him so much I was sick...

Three years passed....

He was back again for the summer...after a week long job selling fireworks, carrying bags full of all sorts of pyromaniac pleasure. It was my birthday, and we'd lit off hundreds of fireworks, all the while fearing the hay field may catch on fire and we'd have huge explaining to do. After a wild game of tag with some old antique spatulas, he chased me up the stairs into my room, where I turned out the light and kissed him for the first time. I felt alive...and heard my own heart pumping fast in my ears. I pulled at his clothes, struggling to get out of mine and being frustrated at how long it was taking. I could feel his breath coming fast on my neck, and he was shaking. I fell back on my bed, pulling him with me in an almost frantic race. I could hear my mom and grandfather down stairs...I felt him run hands down to my waist, pulling me on to him and pulling him inside of me...it was all over almost before it began, and I learned years later that it was his first time. I looked at him and realized that my life would forever be different...and oh hell if I'd only realized how right I was...

So began our love affair...with us sneaking around, dragging poor Rachael with us on erotic camping trips into the field...waiting until she was asleep to make love, kiss, play...the poor thing was a very helpful 3rd wheel. Eyebrows started to raise...my mom had a talk with me about loving people, and "loving" people...LOL. Little did she know things were WAY beyond out of control. They left and I was absolutely heartsick, crying and begging to go visit, lethargic and mopey...my poor mom didn't know what to think. I ran to the mailbox every day, hoping and praying for a letter. He wrote me amazing love notes...poems, colored pictures and poetry...I was head over heels in love, and didn't have a single thought in my head about how it was "wrong" or "bad". I just missed my B.

School began, boyfriends came and went, I have been sexually active from a young age, and continued my adventures, lol. Nothing was satisfying, and I found myself wondering about how he was doing... We made half hearted efforts to keep in touch during the school year, but there was somewhat of an understanding.