Chapter 8

I know it sounds exotic. I mean two kids in high school, who got enough sex to be quite happy about it most of the time ... sounds pretty out of the ordinary, right? But the fact is that our lives were very ordinary, with the exception of the fact that we got as much sex as we could manage. With Heather on the pill it was very relaxed sex too. We did get a reputation as having draconian parents, but that was good, as far as we were concerned.

Then Heather got an acceptance letter from the University of Missouri at Kansas City, where she had applied to their registered nursing program. The letter said there was a possibility of scholarships, based on her final GPA, as well as corporate scholarships, whatever that meant. She was invited to come tour the campus and talk to a guidance counselor.

Which was how, for the first time, I contemplated the surety that, sooner or later, what I had with my sister would be taken away from me.

I didn't do too well with that. Heather was all excited, of course, and Mom was practically delirious. I got the feeling that Dad would be happy with whatever she did as long as she was happy with it.

So Mom and Heather took off one Friday to make the two hour trip to Kansas City. We didn't have school that day because of parent teacher conferences. Dad went to talk to my teachers. They didn't worry too much about Heather because all of her teachers and my parents were already on a first name basis. Everybody liked Heather and wanted her to succeed.

I spent the day lying in bed feeling sorry for myself, basically. I figured if this was a broken heart I was feeling then I wasn't going to be interested in ever falling in love again, because it wasn't worth this kind of pain if it fell apart. I knew that couples at school came together and broke up with astonishing speed and regularity. I was amazed that teenagers weren't jumping off of bridges right and left.

Not that I actually contemplated killing myself. I was just the most miserable I'd ever been in my life. Now that I'm older, I understand the value of all those flirtatious, tenuous and fragile temporary pairings that go on during your school years. They teach you how to survive unhappiness. They toughen you up a little bit.

And, of course, when they got back, Heather had stars in her eyes, which only made me feel expendable.

She came to my bed that night, horny and excited. We almost got in a fight because I was pouting. When she figured that out, though, she knew what to say to bring me out of it.

"Bobby, baby, I'll always love you. I'll always come to you like this. Maybe not as often as we do now, but you're my man and you'll always be my man. I couldn't live without this. And it's almost a year away. We have lots of time to get used to the idea. I need you, Bobby. I have to have you to be complete."

Then I felt guilty for thinking the things I'd been thinking all day, but she overcame that by sucking my cock until it was rock hard. She pulled me on top of her and, as I slid in, she said "Yessssss. That's what I need. That's what I'll always need."

She almost didn't get to cum herself before I lost it.

As I said before, Mom and Dad never mentioned our relationship after that family conference. Not for years, anyway. But there were signs that they were still aware of it. The don't ask, don't tell policy worked pretty well and Heather and I went to great pains not to flaunt anything in front of anybody. At the same time, anybody could tell we were close, and the fact that we argued so rarely must have been noticeable to some, especially our parents.

Eventually, their repeated "renewal trips" out of town for the weekend took on a different meaning to Heather and me. They hadn't talked much about that first one, except to say it was wonderful and well worth the expense. Then, a couple of months later they did it again. After that, it seemed like they needed "renewing" every two months. Of course that gave Heather and me a chance to have a weekend together too, and we loved those weekends. It wasn't until the third or fourth time it had happened that we contemplated the idea that they were doing it on purpose, just to give us some quality time together.

We never asked them about it, though. It would have violated the policy. I wonder about that to this day.

By the time the end of school got close I had learned to deal with the idea of Heather going off to college. I wasn't happy about it, but I was no longer debilitated by it either. Most kids look forward to their senior year, and I didn't, but that was just part of the price of being in love with a woman I wasn't supposed to be in love with.

Heather graduated with honors and there was a big party with aunts and uncles there, and graduation gifts and what Mom called "punch and lunch." Heather raked in over five hundred bucks. It was amazing. She also qualified for enough scholarships to pay for everything for her first year of college except lodging and meals. They offered her a work study job to pay for that, though, so her first year was worry free, financially speaking. Depending on how she did, her guidance counselor said succeeding years could also be mostly paid for. I guess nurses are in short supply and lots scholarships are available because of that.

That summer was full of pain and pleasure. Now that I was sixteen I could get a job at Buddy's Food Barn, stocking shelves. Heather worked at a pizza place as a waitress. To take the load off of Mom and Dad's renewal budget, Heather and I took up camping, going out twice a month, rain or shine. Mom and Dad never said a word. We brought back fish for the table, though, and that may have helped.

Those nights in the tent, with our sleeping bags zipped together and lying under us like a thin mattress, were wonderful. Some nights were hot, but we didn't care, reveling in the sweat dripping from one of us to the other as we lunged and writhed against each other, seeking sweet release. We experienced the kind of life the pioneers had, intentionally not lighting the lantern, and going to bed with the sun, doing the kinds of things our ancestors had done, there in the dark. If she hadn't been on the pill it would have been impossible for her not to get pregnant that summer. Twice we went skinny dipping in the lake after dark, and made love there in the water.

It was glorious.

But each weekend also brought us closer to the time when they would pack the car and my lover would disappear off to college. She promised she'd come home to visit, and said I could come visit her too, though the logistics of that weren't clear.

Until, at last, that time was there, and I watched them drive away.

I had been invited to go along, of course. And I probably should have, to support Heather, if nothing else. Instead I went for a run and ran until I had to sit down. I redirected my frustration into running and it helped. That year I made the varsity track team. I came in most races in second or third place, but the competition was fierce and my times were good.

Email kept us in touch. She got into the habit of signing off "Nothing has changed," and I learned to interpret that as "I love you."

Girls were more interested in me that year too, particularly Sophomore and Junior girls. The irony of that was that they all seemed immature and I perceived them more as little sisters than girls. It was bizarre. I saw my real sister as a woman, and other women as my little sisters. I'm sure a psychologist would have been able to explain it, but I never went to one to get that information.

Suffice it to say that my senior year was a mixture of more pain, with the occasional pleasure of Heather coming home to visit. The parents must have been less sympathetic, though, because they didn't disappear off somewhere on the holidays while Heather was there. Maybe they hoped she'd grown out of it. Maybe they just thought we were both adult enough to deal with the adversity, if it was there. Maybe they just hoped we had stopped.

But we were experts by then at either finding places where we could let loose, or going the slower, quieter route of making love in one of our beds. The only pain in that was that we couldn't sleep together, and wake up in the same bed.

The year dragged on. I won't go into a bunch of boring details, but I got through it. Heather loved her courses and got more and more excited about her career choice. Her work study job was in the library, so she could chat with me on the computer while I did homework.

I still had no idea what to do with my life. I had applied to a couple of colleges using the "general studies" major, which basically meant "I don't have a clue," but which made everybody feel better because I was in a box, rather than floating aimlessly.

Then during senior week somebody pulled a prank that got out of control. What was supposed to be a small fire that would make enough smoke to set all the alarms off, melted the trash can and set some cardboard boxes ablaze. That caught something else and the next thing anybody knew the whole room was involved.

I was standing with the crowd, watching the firemen do their thing, when I realized I wanted to do that kind of work too.

So while Heather completed years two and three of her four year program in Kansas City, I went to Hutchinson Community College and got an associates degree in fire science.

Which is how I ended up as a firefighter on the fire department in Lenexa, a suburb of Kansas City on the Kansas side of town. I got an apartment in another suburb where the cost of living wasn't quite as high, but was still within the 30 minute response time.

Then I called Heather, told her I was in town, and asked if she was hungry. I picked her up and she took me to this little hole in the wall place that served Texmex that was wonderful.

"I hate this," she said while we were eating.

"Then why did you bring me here?" I asked.

"No, I mean not having someplace to go. My roommates all know you, so I can't just take you back to my room and fuck you blind."

"I wouldn't want to be blind anyway. You're too beautiful for that," I said.

She glowered at me, which told me just how frustrated she really was.

"After sleeping on the couch last time I decided to get my own place to stay this time," I said.

She brightened. "Really? You got a motel room? Hurry up and finish!"

It was almost dark by the time we got out of the restaurant. She knew something was up when I turned into a residential area and down a poorly lit street that had a dead end sign at the opening.

"What's going on, Bobby?" she asked.

"It's a surprise," I said. "Be patient."

"I don't want a surprise," she said. "Surprise me later. Right now I want your beautiful hard penis deep inside me, spurting me full of Bobby goo."

"Bobby goo?" I laughed. "They teach you such arcane and interesting things in nursing school."

"Don't laugh," she said, pouting. "It's my favorite liquid."

I pulled into the driveway, which led to a separate single car garage that looked even older than the sixty year old clapboard house I was renting. It was in good shape on the inside, though. I had contracted with the landlord to give the exterior a couple of badly needed coats of paint in exchange for the first month's rent. I turned the car off.

"Let's go inside. There's something I want you to see."

"I didn't know you knew anybody in Kansas City," she said, staring at me.

Then, when I used a key on my key chain to open the front door, she stopped.

"Bobby! What's going on?"

"Women are so impatient," I complained. "Do you want to see your surprise or not?"

Women are also curious. She followed me in and I turned on lights. She saw my stuff lying around, only partly unpacked. I took her to the bigger bedroom, with the queen bed in it. It was the only piece of furniture I had purchased thus far.

"The Lenexa fire department offered me a job, so I decided to give it a try. This is my room."

Her jaw dropped open and her eyes went wide. I pushed her toward the open door five feet away that went to the smaller bedroom. Four or five boxes of my stuff were piled in the middle.

"This is my roommate's bedroom. Except I don't have a roommate yet. You know anybody who might be interested? Maybe Charlene or Janet?" Charlene and Janet were her current roommates. They were sisters and shared one of the two bedrooms at Heather's apartment.

Heather hadn't risen to the bait when I suggested that one of her roommates might want to move in with me. Instead she pulled out her cell phone and punched buttons.

"Jan? Heather. My brother is in town. He brought a friend with him. Don't wait up for me." She listened. "Sorry. It turns out he knows a girl from the area and is hooking up with her. I'll tell him you're interested, though." She listened again. "Would you get off my back? I know I don't get out enough. I know I don't have enough fun. What do you think I'm doing tonight? OK. See you in the morning ... unless I get even luckier than I think I'm going to get. Bye bye."

"Janet would probably jump at the chance to move in here with you," she said, putting her cell phone and purse down. "But if you let her, I'll cut your balls off."

I covered my crotch with both hands. "Ooooo. I wouldn't want that. What do you suggest I do instead? I really need a roommate. The starting pay for a firefighter sucks."

She pulled her T shirt over her head. Reaching behind her, she loosened the bra and shrugged it off. Her breasts wobbled, and I was reminded of the first time I saw them, when I let her down on the bed too hard and they wobbled. It felt like my eyeballs were wobbling in my sockets while I watched them.

"I don't think anybody's going to be interested in moving in with you if there's no air conditioning," she said, fanning her face with her hand. "It's awfully hot in here."

She unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down. Looking into my eyes she pushed them down, taking her panties with her. Since there was no furniture, she simply sat down on the floor and pulled them off. Then she bent her knees, spread her legs and leaned back on one arm. With her free hand she reached and used two fingers to separate her pussy lips.

"My pussy is so hot, Bobby," she complained. "There's no breeze to cool it off."

"There's a ceiling fan above the bed in my room," I said softly. "You could lie under that and get cooled off."

"Really?" She stood up with fluid grace. Three years hadn't put more than five pounds on her. If anything her stomach seemed slightly concave.

When she got into the bedroom she dove onto the bed and flipped onto her back during her first bounce. She went spread eagle on the bed.

"Turn the fan on, Bobby," she demanded. "I'm so hot! Aren't you hot? You look hot."

"I'm used to it," I said. "We firemen work in the heat routinely."

"Ooooo, can I see your fire hose?" she asked, her voice high and young sounding. "Are you Smokey The Bear?"

"My fire hose is nothing to play with, little girl," I said, gravely. "It is for serious business."

"I want to see it," she pouted.

"All right," I said. "But no touching." I was out of my shirt and pants within twenty seconds. I was rock hard, of course, and my prick was straining upwards at a fifty degree angle. "It's full of liquid under extreme pressure."

"That's so it can squirt and put a fire out," she said, sounding awed. "I want to see it squirt!"

"Can't waste water," I said, shaking my head. "Water is a precious resource."

"So there's water in there?" she asked, licking her lips.

"It's a kind of foam, with lots of ingredients," I said, straining to think of ways to keep this going. I was having a blast, but only because I knew we had all night. That was a rare and precious thing in our history.

"What kind of fires does it put out?" she asked. "Cause it's so hot inside me there might be a fire in there." She pointed at her gaping pussy lips and slid the finger deep inside her. "Up in there," she gasped. "It's so hot. I need a fireman to put it out."

"I have to examine the fire first," I said. "Different fires take different techniques to extinguish."

I crawled on the bed and between her feet. They dug into the bedspread and she lifted her hips off the bed, supporting her weight on her heels and shoulders.

"Hurry," she panted. "I'm burning up inside."

I sniffed, and grazed her pussy lips with my nose. I licked her cleft and she moaned. I ran the tip of my tongue around her clit in a couple of circles. Then I blew. It was hard enough to make one of her pussy lips flap in the wind.

"Does that help?" I asked. "Did I blow the fire out?"

"Nooooo," she whined. "I need the fire hose. I need the special foam. I need lots of it. I'm on fire, Smokey. You have to help meeeee."

I stood up on my knees and started jacking off.

"I'm going to try spraying some foam on the outside first," I said. "Maybe that will put the fire out."

"You bastard!" she growled. "If you don't start fighting my fire immediately I'm going to go find me another fireman who will!"

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