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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
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Cindy Stuckey
by Fletcher Adams (fletcher.adams@eudoramail.com)

***

A couple, who became lovers in high school, find each 
other years later. (MF, youths, 1st, rom)

***

My wife and I just got back from watching "Never Been 
Kissed." We both laughed and cried almost all the way 
through it, because it reminded us of us, and what we 
used to be. 

My parents moved to a new city when I was 12, just as I 
was becoming 1) popular with my peers in elementary 
school and 2) pubescent. So there I was, seventh grade, 
gangly as hell, acne-ridden, and a new face in a new 
school. 


Bottom line, it was shit for a while. A couple of 
years, in fact. Then I began to grow into my adolescent 
body, and I gained some acceptance, when ninth grade 
struck. Our junior high school was part of a system 
that fed into one big (actually enormous) high school. 
There were about 3000 students on campus. 

As I said, I had begun to gain a little acceptance, and 
that carried over a little into high school. I wasn't 
the most popular kid in school, but I wasn't the class 
goat, either. So, life was okay. I didn't have a 
girlfriend, but I hung out with lots of girls. Looked 
like smooth sailing. 

Toward the end of my freshman year, I met a girl named 
Cindy Stuckey. She was "Yucky Stucky," a reference to 
her hair, which never seemed to be clean, and her 
clothes (ditto). I had heard of her, or course, but I 
only met her when the JV Band (she was in it) and the 
JV Chorus (including me) gathered to rehearse for a 
graduation performance of "Gonna Fly Now." (Yes, late 
70s.) 

Graduation came and went, and without a lot of unneeded 
details, we found ourselves together afterward at a 
local hamburger place. She really wasn't yucky, I 
discovered, just poor and unpopular. We spent the 
summer meeting at the library, and the pool, and... 
well, you get it. 

Tenth grade came, and we were considered an "item." I 
was a little more popular, and she was about as 
unpopular as ever; but we were accepted as a pair. We 
continued our meeting at the library, and had lunch 
together almost every day. Driver's licenses led to 
dates. We were spending a lot of time together. 

Summer came and went again, and Junior year began. We 
were still an item, and by now she had begun to blossom 
(a little). I was becoming more important on campus 
(newspaper, Key club) and she sort of rode my star 
upward. Then, after Thanksgiving, things changed a 
little. 

I was always a perfect gentleman with her. We had been 
going out about a year and a half, and all we had done 
was kiss. They weren't huge kisses, either, more like 
little pecks. Well, the day after Thanksgiving, we 
found ourselves alone in her house. We started our 
usual kissing-pecking, and that led to some more 
serious kissing. I had never frenched before, and 
neither had she; but we both knew what it was, and we 
began to explore it. 

We called a halt before things got too far out of hand; 
but the genie was out of the bottle. And we knew we 
were in for bigger things. 

Christmas came and went, and in the week between 
Christmas and New Years we continued our newly 
discovered affinity for one another's tongues. We were 
alone in her house (again). Her parents and siblings 
wouldn't be back for several hours. 

"Chuck," she said, during a break in the action, "do 
you really think I'm good enough?" 

I looked at her. "Sure, of course you are. What kind of 
question is that?" 

She looked hopeful. "So how come all you ever do is 
kiss me? Why don't you ever try to... you know... do 
more?" 

"What brought all this on?" I asked. "You know I 
respect you, and I don't want to make you angry." 

"Yeah," she said, "but don't you ever want a little bit 
more than just kissing?" She moved her torso a little 
closer. Was she offering her tits to me? 

I said, "If you expect me to put my hands on your 
tits," putting my right hand on her left breast, "and 
squeeze it like this," as I squeezed gently, "well... 
okay." We both giggled and kissed, and I slipped my 
hand under her sweater, to find she had no bra on. Had 
she planned this? 

I pulled her top off and stared at her breasts for a 
second. "You don't mind if I look, do you?" I asked. 
"This is the first time I've ever seen these." 

She rubbed my head, and pulled me in closer. "Look all 
you want," she whispered, "and suck me, too." 

I grasped her nipple in my lips and sucked. I realized 
then I was a boob man, and just buried my face in her 
mounds. She wasn't stacked, but it was enough for me. I 
was in heaven. 

She began moaning. "Ooooooh, that feels so good," she 
whimpered, and began to rub her crotch. I placed my 
hand on hers and rubbed with her. Soon she removed her 
hand and let me rub her solo. 

As you might expect, all this intimate contact soon led 
the two of us between the sheets of her bed, kissing 
and fondling and sucking, and generally going crazy 
over one another's bodies. The point of no return came 
when I was on top of her, kissing her, with her legs 
spread wide, and I instinctively moved my cock into 
position between her pussy lips. 

I came to my senses for a second, and said, "Cindy, do 
you really want to do this? I mean, that's it, no more 
virgins." 

"I want to fuck you so bad I can't stand it," she 
replied in a husky whisper. "I'm so horny..." 

And with that, I pushed into her. She moaned softly, 
and whimpered only a little when her maidenhead gave 
way. 

I won't lie, here, and say I was lovemaking machine. I 
was a 17-year-old bundle of hormones. So was she, 
fortunately, and she was so incredibly hot that the few 
dozen strokes I had to make to achieve orgasm were 
enough to send her over the edge too. We came together, 
and I thought I'd never be happier. 

She was a little nervous for a week or so afterward, 
afraid she might be pregnant from our little sojourn, 
and she wouldn't let me do any more than feel her up in 
the car. She wasn't pregnant, though, and we began 
having sex at least every weekend. She stopped fretting 
about pregnancy, eventually. 

After a couple of months, we began to experiment with 
oral sex. While not as fulfilling as the real deal, it 
was quicker, safer, and added some spice. I learned to 
eat pussy, which I never thought I'd try. She actually 
tasted pretty good. She also learned to give head like 
a pro. She joked that we were like a married couple. 

We had almost a year and a half of semi-wedded bliss, 
until graduation came around. We had both planned to 
attend a community college nearby; but at the last 
minute I got a scholarship offer from a university a 
few states away. I couldn't turn it down, and I 
couldn't make them admit her to the university as a 
condition of my acceptance of their money (duh!). 

So, with many tears and lots of sadness, we said good-
bye at the end of summer (having spent the intervening 
time largely naked and intimate). I went to university, 
and she went to the local college. 

Life throws curves at us, of course, and our plans are 
at best hopes. I had intended to write to Cindy every 
week and see her on the holidays. We had some time at 
Thanksgiving that year (and made love once); but 
Christmas saw me in New Zealand on an exchange study 
program. The letters became less frequent, and I was 
unable to come home for summer due to work and study 
requirements. 

Eventually the relationship simply evaporated. I got 
final confirmation of that during my second summer at 
university, when my mother sent me a newspaper 
clipping. Cindy was getting married in the fall. 

My initial reaction was to rush back home, to salvage 
what I could of our great romance. But then I began to 
reflect on my motives. I really loved Cindy, I thought; 
but the night before I got that clipping, I had spent 
in the arms (and between the legs) of another woman. I 
had actually been getting a fair amount of tail since 
the previous summer. 

So, I just let Cindy go, wished her all the happiness 
she could find, and went on with my life. 

I finished school, got a job, and got married, 
divorced, married, and divorced. My first marriage fell 
apart because my wife and I wanted children, but were 
unable to conceive. It turns out, I'm almost (but not 
quite) sterile. That was great when Cindy and I were 
making like rabbits in high school, but lousy for 
making a family. 

My second wife went into the marriage proclaiming a 
lack of desire for children, but then heard her 
biological clock going tick-tick-tick, and left me for 
someone not shooting so many blanks. 

Cindy's life was altogether different than mine, I 
learned. I was able to keep up through letters from 
home. Seems she had married, had 4 children, and 
divorced. 

And this is how we happened upon one another again. 

We both experienced a loss recently. Hers was far more 
catastrophic than mine. Seems her asshole ex-husband 
had decided to quit paying child support. In a drunken 
rage, he murdered the four kids. That must have sobered 
him up, and he capped himself. That was three years in 
the past. 

My father passed away peacefully a little over a year 
ago. It was around the anniversary of Cindy's disaster. 
She attended the funeral. Afterward we walked to where 
her kids were buried, and I paid my respects. That 
evening I had dinner at her house. 

Things were a little strange between us. Here we were, 
former lovers, all alone in the world, and there was no 
spark of sexual excitement between us. We spent the 
evening in pleasant conversation, reminiscing about our 
lives (avoiding the subject of our intimate past). 

A couple of days later I had to leave. Life does go on, 
after all, and I had a job to get back to. Before I 
left, I visited Cindy again. I told her she should come 
to the city where I live, and spend some time. We 
kissed, softly, passionately, but did not take it any 
further. I left her there. 

One evening a couple of weeks later I heard the 
doorbell. I opened the door and there, to my great 
surprise, was Cindy. She had a small overnight bag with 
her. 

"You said I should come," she said softly, "and here I 
am." 

I ushered her in, and we kissed again, like the old 
days, like they had never ended. I was suddenly hungry 
for her. 

We sat and talked for a while, and the air was heavy 
with the tension of not discussing what we really 
wanted to discuss. We skirted talk of sex, but kept 
getting closer. Finally, she asked to be shown to the 
spare room so she could freshen up and get comfortable. 
I obliged. When she returned, all she was wearing was a 
robe. 

"Chuck," she said, "I've never lost what I felt for 
you. I always felt you abandoned me, and I was hurt, 
but I never stopped wanting you." 

"I know," I replied. "I always felt the same way. I'd 
give anything if we could turn back the clock." 

"Well, we can't," she said, "All I can tell you is that 
you still look good to me." 

"And you look terrific to me," was all I could say. 

She opened her robe. Her breasts were a little saggy, 
to be sure, and lined with stretch marks; but they were 
gorgeous to me. She said, "Do these shriveled up things 
still look enticing to my favorite man?" 

In answer, I knelt before her and began suckling at her 
nipples. The memories rolled back in. Before long we 
had migrated to the bed, and discovered (to our 
delight) that our lovemaking was as good as it had ever 
been. It took a little longer - we were both 35 by this 
point - but it had lost none of the fire. We spent the 
entire night joined at the crotch, or so it seemed. 

The next morning, as we sat at the kitchen table, I 
made a split-second decision without even thinking 
about it. 

"Cindy," I began, "do you remember our senior year of 
high school? How we used to make love so much we called 
ourselves an 'old married couple?'" 

She grinned. "How could I forget that?"

"Sort of like that this morning, huh?" I took her left 
hand, and touched the first knuckle of her ring finger. 
"All we need is something right about here..." 

Her face went blank, and tears spilled over her cheeks. 
"Do you mean it?" she whispered. 

I leaned in close to her face - at that moment, the 
most beautiful object in the world - and said, "Let's 
do what we should have done 15 years ago. Marry me. Be 
my old, shriveled, droopy-boobed wife. Be my lover 
forever." 

She laughed and cried, and said, "Oh, yes." 

It's been almost a year. And yes, we still fuck like 
rabbits, only now it's every night (well, every other 
night). And, oh, how I love that woman. 

END

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 49