Chapter 73: Fly, Pixie

June 14, 1981

And here we were. The last hurrah for Nancy and me. She’d actually leave tomorrow but, barring some last-minute change of heart, we still thought a last-minute meeting was a bad idea.

We met outside with a hug and kiss, our fingers entwining, and we headed downstairs. I knew Mike had a cake. We had two choices — end in tears, or make it a party. There would be tears anyway, but we all thought a party was the right idea.

The party would be after we had private time. And of course, no one would’ve considered anything other than that we’d head to the guest room and stay there as long as we wanted.

On the way in, Rita met us. Greeting Nancy with a hug, she sighed. “We’re surely going to miss you, honey. I hope those people in L.A. know what a special girl they’re getting, because we sure do!”

Nancy hugged back. “Thanks, Rita! You’ve been so good to me. I’ll miss you. You and Mike stay in touch.”

We headed down, hung out a few minutes to be polite, then walked over. We didn’t say very much. We’d already said a lot, and we’d say more, but we didn’t need to right now.

Stepping into the guest room, closing the door, I turned to her, pulling her into my arms, looking down into her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

My fingers found the buttons on her dress and began unbuttoning, until it slipped down her body. She tugged my shirt off, then did the same for my jeans. Then I unhooked her bra, removed it, and sighed. She knelt and tugged my underwear off, then giggled as my cock bounced around. I returned the favor.

“You are so beautiful, sweetheart.”

“You’re pretty hunky, dude,” she said with a grin.

I offered my hand, she took it, and we headed into the shower. Taking turns washing each other, enjoying the caressing and the attention. We spent as much time looking into each other’s eyes as anywhere else. Again, nothing was said, but there were a lot of sighs. And moans.

We dried each other off, then walked to the bedroom. Nancy looked at me, grinned, winked, and moved onto the bed, stretched out. I knew what she wanted; it was her thing, which made it one of our things. And a good one. I moved over her in the 69 position, careful not to squish her, arching my back, my cock at her mouth as my lips found hers. She had me sucked in a second later, bobbing her head, moaning. My tongue was dancing over her lips, sucking, tasting her for the last time. I knew it was a bad idea to keep thinking ‘last time’, but I couldn’t avoid it.

And, as much as we wanted to draw it out, we were horny and in love. And we both loved pleasing each other. Her tongue flick-flicked at the head of my cock, danced around it, pressed along the shaft. Her lips pressed, sucked. The pleasure found its way to my tongue, which flicked over her lips, dipped inside, swirled at her clit. The energy flowed back and forth, triggering a small orgasm for her, then another, then a third, which tipped me over.

“Now!” I cried out, spurts of cum flowing into her mouth. She sucked hungrily, swallowing several times, then shuddering and groaning into a much harder orgasm of her own.

I lapped at her for as long as I could, until she was groaning with the mixture of pleasure and oversensitivity, then lifted, turned, and sat looking at her somewhat dazed expression. She had a little line of cum on her cheek. I flicked my eyes to it. She blushed, found it with her finger, then licked it off with an impish grin.

Again we met in a deep kiss, snuggling close. I stroked her back warmly, looking into her eyes. “I’m going to miss you, sweetheart. Very much.” I was fighting to hold back the tears. She sniffled, which caused both dams to break.

“I’m going to miss you, too!” she sobbed, sudden, hard, hugging tight. “I love you and it’s so unfair!”

There was nothing I could say. Of course it was.

We kissed and hugged and cried until the crying was done. Sniffling, she looked up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make us cry.”

I shook my head. “It’s not possible that we wouldn’t cry, honey. I just don’t want it to be the last memory.”

“Well, that one sure isn’t! Because I am damn sure getting that cock in me again! I definitely haven’t had a lifetime supply!”

I laughed, the spell of sadness broken, and kissed her as her fingers found my cock. It needed a little encouragement, but only a little, before I could slide a condom on and then move over her. Then I hesitated.

“I want to do this. Maybe last? You enjoyed being on top so much, and I’m pretty sure I have a couple in me. Would you like to... ?”

“Hell, yes! This way, though.” She grinned and pulled me in, then hugged tight. “Roll us over.”

I did, and she grinned again, lifting up, then starting to rise and fall. My hands found her breasts, caressed, played with her little nipples. Squeezed. She went off in seconds and, like last time, just kept going off, tossing her head, groaning, whining. “UUUUuunnnnngghh ... Oh ... oh ... fuckkKKKKKKK! ... so good ... so gooooooodddddd!”

Growling, eyes sparking, she leaned forward, kissed me, as her hips increased speed. I could feel every part of her tremble, squeeze, shake. “Cummminnng ... agaiinnnnn ... Steveeeee, ohmygod!”

I went with her, spurting, seeing stars, playing with her breasts. As before, she collapsed into my waiting arms when she could stay upright no longer.

“Oh, my god. I could die happy!”

I laughed. “La petite mort.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“The little death. A French term used to describe an orgasm.”

She giggled and hugged me. “Only with you would our farewell lovemaking include vocabulary lessons.”

“I can’t imagine that on one of Mrs. Higgins’ tests.”

“No! Nonono. Definitely not!”

That changed the mood instantly. She giggled, I chuckled, she laughed, I laughed, and suddenly we were howling, hugging each other, snuggling, kissing. My cock surprised me by never going down. After the giggles settled a bit, she looked down and grinned. “Ready already?”

“Quite ready!”

“Can I um... ? Wrap him up?”

“Be my guest.”

I handed her the condom wrapper and helped guide her through the process. Then she rolled back, I moved over her, teased, and slid in inch by inch.

“Yesssssssssss!” She wrapped herself around me, pressing in, wriggling her hips, looking up. “Take me, Steve. Take me! Love me!”

I moved, slow, deep. Not quite frustrating, just a pace where I’d last a bit. She, as I expected, started shuddering into little orgasms right away. “OOooooohhgod ... oh ... ohhhhh ... Steveeeeee ... oh, yes ... UUNNGGHGHHH!”

Her pussy grabbed at my cock, trying to prevent it from leaving, then welcoming it back. She got her legs up, wrapped around my back, arms wrapped around me, too, hugging and holding on. Our lips met, again and again, warm, soft, sweet.

It couldn’t last, of course. Eventually I felt the pressure rising beyond where I could hold back. “Nancy ... I’m ... I’m going to!” Her eyes flashed, sparkled. “Yessssssss! Cum, cum in my little pussy, Steve! Cum in me! Cum in me now! I love you!”

I drove down, pressed, and held, as she pressed her hips back up. Our lips crashed together. My cock pulsed and exploded as her pussy clenched and shuddered around me.

Then, for the last time, I carefully shifted and snuggled against her, just enough weight on her but not too much. Our eyes met, and the tears flowed, but not with deep sadness this time. Tears of loss for what we’d never explore together, yes, but tears of happiness for the love we’d found, however briefly, were mixed in.

We rose together, showered, quiet again. I washed her hair, she washed mine, and our hands moved everywhere, cleaning, and memorizing, too.

Then we dressed, stopping again and again to steal kisses. As we finished, I reached into my pocket. She looked the question, not wanting to break the spell. I opened it, showing her an anklet with a heart. The first time I gave one like it to a girl, we were already doomed. This time, I knew it was a farewell gift. And it felt right.

She smiled and just lifted her leg a little, encouraging me to kneel and put it on. I kissed her ankle once it was in place. My hand found hers. Our fingers entwined, we rejoined our friends, who met us by the door with a loud “Goodbye, Nancy! We’ll miss you!”

The cake was a surprise, or she pretended it was, anyway. Someone put dance music on and we danced, chatted, and enjoyed the afternoon. And I enjoyed it, and I think — I know — that she did, too.

In the end, fingers entwined for the last time, we walked upstairs. I tipped her head back for the last time, and kissed her. Softly this time. Letting her go. “Farewell, sweetheart. Not goodbye. A piece of my heart goes with you.”

“Farewell, love. You’re right. Not goodbye. A piece of my heart will always be yours.”

Our fingers slipped apart and she walked away, climbing onto her bike, slipping away. Around the corner. Out of sight.