Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, White Male, Oriental Female, .
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - After being stranded in a snowbound airport, Kevin and Melanie head back to their separate lives. But neither can stop thinking about the other. This is the second part of a series that begins with "Some Things Are Meant to Be".
"I'll see you around, Kevin," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I reached out and squeezed his hand as if to say, "I'm sorry," then turned and walked away.
Trying to keep my gait firm and deliberate, I walked through the airport as if I had blinders on. I didn't want anyone—especially Kevin—to see me like this. I didn't have any checked baggage and went straight to the parking garage. Once I stowed my carry-on suitcase in the trunk of my car, I got in, started the engine, then leaned my forehead against the steering wheel and began to cry.
I don't know what brought this fit on.
No, that's not quite right. I do know.
It was Kevin Westcott. Or rather, it was the last three days I had spent with an old friend from high school. Everything had been perfect. He was cute and kind. There was romance and passion. All of the cares of my life melted away. There was just him: with his goofy smile, puppy dog eyes and the promise of safety and security and love.
When we were in high school together, none of the girls—myself included—ever looked at him seriously as boyfriend material. I guess we were all too into the "bad boys" of the school. Kevin was never a bad boy. He was squeaky clean, and not because he was uptight or anything.
He didn't drink or do drugs or get tattoos or skip class. If you ever asked him why he never did anything that was bad, he would tell you simply, "Because that's not right."
Right and wrong. He knew the difference and he never thought to do anything other than what was right. I didn't recognise it in him when we were younger and after graduation he never really crossed my mind again, to tell the truth. Every now and then, his name would come up when reminiscing with a mutual friend, and that was usually followed with, "What ever happened to him?"
I'll tell you what happened: In short, Kevin Westcott became a keeper.
He was one of the nerdy kids in high school. We all knew he would make something of himself; he was too smart not to. While he wasn't terribly motivated, he never seemed like he ever truly applied himself. Yet, he still got a 31 on his ACT and made A's with very little effort. He could have given me and Ajay Patel a run for valedictorian if he had wanted to. I, on the other hand, studied a lot. Probably more than I needed to, but things seemed to come far more naturally to him than me.
Of all the kids I graduated with, Kevin was the most enigmatic. I don't think he kissed a girl until our senior year. He couldn't talk to any of us socially. And he was above dumbing himself down just to try and fit in. He was tall and skinny. Average-looking. Unathletic and clumsy. He moved awkwardly as if he wasn't quite used to the way his body was built. He was certainly smart and a boon to anyone who ever needed a partner for a group project. But none of us thought of him as anything other than a schoolmate.
When we met again almost eighteen years after graduation, he had filled out nicely. He put on a little bit of weight; it was just enough to add some meat to his bones, but not too much. His face was still boyishly handsome and he maintained sandy blonde hair with very little grey. He had a new confidence about him and that was very appealing.
Maybe it was just me being shortsighted, but Kevin was one of those boys you wanted to marry, but never wanted to date. He promised security and stability, and at 18, I foolishly wanted a guy who got my motor running. I never thought of him as exciting because we ran in different crowds. Mine was the cheerleaders and pretty people; his was the Dungeons & Dragons and computer club nerds.
Our last three days together had been magical. Maybe it was because we were both trapped in a snowbound airport with no other familiar company. Maybe it was because we were both in a single place in our lives. Or maybe my eyes were just opened.
Those three days with Kevin flipped a switch within me. He stirred passions I hadn't felt in a long time. Certainly not with my ex-husband.
I could tell he was in love with me. I think he had been since high school. It would have been very easy to fall for him. He was a little plain, but still handsome. He was employed; well kind-of employed, but he was financially stable. He treated me like a princess. He is still one of the ten smartest people I know. He's funny and self-deprecating. And when we made love, he made me scream with pleasure and spent all night cuddling.
That's why I had to walk away from him.
Kevin was too good of a guy for me just to use and throw away. Because that's what I would have done to him. I probably could have gotten him to marry me, buy me a big house in the suburbs and sucked him dry if I had wanted.
But I couldn't do that to him. Not that way.
In the last year, I've gotten a divorce, been laid off my job, lost my house, and moved my kids across three states to live with my parents. I was a wreck in all possible ways: mentally, emotionally, financially and even physically.
I was in no condition to start a relationship, and I knew it. I prayed that Kevin knew it too. He looked heartbroken when we shared our last kiss. That's why I had to leave him standing there in an airport full of people. It was for the best.
At least that's what I told myself.
So there I sat in my car, bawling like a baby. I had turned my back on what could have been the best thing to ever happen to me.
When the tears stopped, I wiped my eyes, tried my best to put on a smile and drove home.
Home. It seemed so familiar, yet so different.
It was the house where I spent the bulk of my years growing up. We moved in when I was six and my parents started teaching at the university. It's a big house with four bedrooms and more than enough space for anyone who wanted to live under its roof. My brother was long gone; his job with an aerospace company seemed to be weathering the plunging economy well. In some ways, the war in Iraq was a boon to his work designing and building laser guidance systems for missiles.
Now it was my folks, me and my two children, Toby and Emily. When I came crawling back to them, practically begging for a place to live, they threw open their doors without comment or complaint, although I felt that on some level they were disappointed.
After all, for the previous decade, I was the successful one. My career in commercial lending was lucrative and glamourous. My husband and I drove BMWs and had a big house of our own. We did all the things we were supposed to: travelled with the kids, had a nanny to watch them and lived the high life. Then it all came crashing down.
We were in a house that was more than we could afford. The divorce nearly wiped me out. I don't think my ex-husband ever cheated on me, although he very quickly found comfort in the arms of a red-headed secretary with big tits who was ten years his junior. I managed to avoid paying palimony by getting laid off.
The housing market imploded and all of our savings were exhausted when we were forced to sell the house at a loss; neither of us wanted to buy the other out, so we sold it and both of us started over. I took my kids home to my parents; he comes to town for one weekend a month and they spend summers with him.
I've been looking for a job, but I haven't had much luck. A couple of companies have made offers, but none have panned out. Either they were offering me a pittance of what I was making before or they wanted me to re-locate or travel. I know I shouldn't be picky, but I never thought things would be as bad as they are.
My most recent trip was turning out to be the final straw. A company on the west coast offered me a job, but the cost of living out there is still way too high for what they were offering. So on a cold January day, I was headed home before getting side-tracked by a freak blizzard that shut down nearly every airport on the east coast from Atlanta to Bangor.
And that's when Kevin Westcott turned my life upside down.
I tried to push thoughts of him from my mind as I drove home. Pulling into the driveway, I saw the lights inside were still on. I parked my car in the spare spot next to the garage and went inside.
Just as I opened the door, my son Toby rushed into my arms. I picked him up and spun him around, both of us giggling. Emily, my daughter, was always a little more reserved, but she still gave me a warm hug.
These two children are the reason why I do everything. I held them tight even as my parents came out to greet me.
We speak English around them, although Mother and Father both think they should be taught Japanese, too. Everyone asked about the trip and what I had done over the extra two days I was away. I deflected questions from the children and my father, but my mother instantly knew something was up. I only hope my own matronly intuition is half as keen when it comes to dealing with my children. She would never say anything to me, especially not in front of my father, but I knew she would ask me in private.
The rest of the evening passed quickly. I tucked the kids into bed, said good-night to my folks then went to bed myself.
As I lay there, all I could think about was Kevin's strong arms. How they held me close. How he would twitch in his sleep, but never release me from his comforting grasp. How his heartbeat sounded so close to mine. How his breath felt so warm against my skin.
I eventually fell asleep, but not before another fit of crying came over me.
What the hell were you thinking, Melanie Nakamura?