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From: Jennifer Doalfer <doalfer@my-deja.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} <*> Not So Proud (F/M), by Jennifer Doalfer
Date: Sun,  9 Apr 2000 15:11:49 -0400
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THIS STORY IS PROTECTED UNDER THE LAWS OF COPYRIGHT. ANY REPRODUCTIONS,
ALTERATIONS, AND/OR SALES WITHOUT THE WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR
IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED.

This story is one of a series of stories published to
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/doalfer/www. Please also read the other ones, preferably in
the right order. I am very grateful for the proofreading done by my
friend PJ. Comments are very welcome. Jennifer Doalfer -
doalfer@hotmail.com

{ASSM}<*> Not So Proud (F/M), by Jennifer Doalfer


NOT SO PROUD
By Jennifer Doalfer Copyright 2000

I believe I wrote at some point that I have only had very few
experiences of extramarital sex.  The true story, 'The Milkman' is one
of those.   Another one is the one I am about to tell you about.  I
have chosen to call this story 'Not So Proud', because I am not so
proud of what occurred .  It happened a couple of years ago, and I only
wrote it down because doing so  was a therapeutic act.  At the time I
would rather have forgotten about the experience; today I am quite glad
I did write it down.  These days I don't feel so guilty about some of
the things that have happened.

I met Greg, the guy in the story, when I was studying in Glasgow.  He
was a fellow student and we lived in the same dormitory.  I had a
strange relationship with him; we were very good friends, but the
relationship was purely platonic. That was my choice, but I don't know
why I made that choice.  Perhaps because I found that the friendship
was so valuable to me, that I didn't want to ruin it by letting it
become a sexual relationship.  Perhaps because I liked the attention
and his constant frustration when he was around me.  From that point of
view, I probably wasn't very nice to him, but I was quite happy to have
him helping me to the extent where he would do my shopping, let me have
his car whenever I needed it and so on.  I was dating other guys, and I
knew he was jealous and couldn't understand why I would go out with
other guys and not with him.   But to me, those other dates didn't mean
much and I didn't feel like getting too serious.  Had I allowed the
relationship to develop the way he wanted, I would probably never have
left Scotland and I wasn't quite ready for that.

A few days ago I got an email from him.  It was purely a professional
matter, but the mail started a chain of thought and the occurrence I am
writing about all of a sudden stood to the front of my mind , as clear
as though it had happened yesterday.  I was surprised to find that I
didn't feel bad about it, and I decided to dig out the old story,
translate it and publish it. (One more reason for not letting my
husband know that I am writing these stories!).
******

Last week I received an unexpected phone call.  "Hi, it's Greg," the
voice on the phone said.

I was speechless.  I wasn't in any doubt who it was.  The Glaswegian
accent alone would have given him away.

"Hi," was all I could answer, I just didn't know what else to say.  I
hadn't heard from him for several years.  I knew he had married and had
a couple of children about the age of mine, but I had only heard that
through a mutual friend.  I know he had been very hurt when I decided,
according to plan, to leave Glasgow.   I am sure he had thought that
because of the very strong friendship we had, I would probably consider
staying, and maybe change our relationship into something more that
just friendship.  I had felt very bad about leaving, but hadn't let him
know how hard it really was for me too.  I had thought about him many
times, and wondered what it would have been like if I had stayed.  But
fortunately other things happening to my life had overshadowed these
worries, and I hadn't thought much about him in the recent years.
However, just four words were enough to bring it all back; I felt my
heart stick in my throat.

"You don't seem very pleased to hear from me," he said with obvious
disappointment in his voice.

"I am sorry," I said, "I am not pleased or displeased.  I am so
surprised that I haven't had time to think that far."

"Well, it is a long time ago.  But I called to tell you I will be
Denmark soon, and I thought it would be fun if we could meet."

'Fun' wasn't the first word that came to my mind.  'Frightening' would
be closer to the truth.

"My wife has a distant uncle, whom we met recently.  Talking about
holiday plans he explained about a cottage he always rented in Denmark
for a couple of weeks each summer.   He had made the reservation, but
couldn't go because his wife was ill.  I happened to mention I knew
somebody in Denmark, and before I could think it through we had taken
over his reservations and then my wife suggested we contact you to see
if we could meet."  He was tripping over the words, apparently quite
nervous.

I recovered my composure.  Also it all seemed less threatening when it
was the families meeting up.  I had feared he was planning some
clandestine meeting.

"I think that sounds like a great idea.  It would be fun to meet, and
we could use a couple of days away," I said with genuine feeling.

The conversation went on with practical details, like where and when.
The cottage was on the island of Falster, about 125km south of
Copenhagen, and fortunately at a time in about two weeks when I knew
both Poul and I could get off work.  (It would be a long weekend, but
we quite often have to work weekends).  The school was still out, and
it would be a pleasant change for the children who spent a lot of time
with my parents, which they were beginning to find a bit tedious.

Both Poul and the children thought it would be great.  Greg sent a
picture of the cottage, which look fabulous.  Even though it was right
on a long wide sandy beach, it also had a pool warmed by solar heating,
so it would always be nice and warm.  Our children had been swimming
since they were 5 months old and  love the water.

We packed the Chrysler Voyager which we always use for trips, as the
children can play games and entertain themselves better in that, even
though I prefer the smother ride of the Mercedes.  It was a fight I
always lost because it was better for the children.  The Mercedes is my
car,  but I never get to drive it anywhere but to and from work.

We left on a Thursday evening after work.  It was a heat wave and even
when we arrived after 22:00, it was still sticky hot (at least for
Danish standards).   I don't quite know what I had expected.  My first
reaction when Greg called was one of fear of rekindling old feelings.
But since it became clear that this was a family get-together, I hadn't
thought about it from that angle anymore.  However, when I saw Greg my
heart lodged itself firmly in my throat.   He was so handsome!  He was
specialising in the effects of physical training, and it was obvious
that he had used himself as guinea pig.  He had long hair tied back in
a ponytail.  It was far from the old image I had of him, but it suited
his bronze skin and beach boy appearance.  He hugged me just a couple
of seconds too long for just a friendly hug, and I knew he still
fancied me.  I could feel my legs go wobbly, my heart beat at a rate of
130, and I felt as guilty as a schoolgirl when I looked back to Poul
talking politely to Greg's wife, Anne.

However, apart from the electric impulse sent to my heart every time my
eyes met Greg's, and that was often as we couldn't stop looking at each
other, the first hours of our reunion and family trip went very well.
Being hot and sweaty from the drive, the children jumped straight into
the pool.  We had a few drinks (too many), as we discussed old days,
the present status of our careers and family life, and whatever you
talk about with someone you haven't seen for about eight years.

The next day we slept late.  It was quite windy with large waves and we
didn't think the children should go swimming in the sea, so we stayed
by the pool, which was fabulous.  I was very much aware of Greg looking
at me all the time.  I felt flattered, and quite a bit excited about
the way I often caught him staring at my body [PJ1]when he thought I
wasn't noticing.  His wife, Anne, was a very pretty brunette.  She had
good curves in the right places, and wore a swimsuit with cut high  at
the sides and only a pair of wide crossed straps to hide her more [PJ2]
that average size breasts.  She looked quite provocative, so after a
swim I took the opportunity to change into my tanga bikini, which
didn't cover very much either,  being very much aware of what that
would do to Greg.

We had a light lunch, having decided to go out to one of the better
restaurant for our evening meal.  We dressed up, me in my light summer
dress, keeping on my tanga g-string but leaving off the top.  I was
again much aware of the effect it would probably have on Greg, as it
was quite loose and made of a rather thin material.  However, I hadn't
brought any other dress and because of the low cut the back I couldn't
wear the bikini top underneath.  I felt guilty in a strange way.  Not
that I hadn't worn the dress before, and not that I didn't enjoy people
looking at me.  It was just seemed kind of wrong, knowing how much Greg
still appeared to be interested in me, and because I was here with
Poul.  Even though I really hadn't done anything wrong, I still felt
guilty.  Fortunately Anne only wore a tube dress, which clung to her,
and actually made her appear more provocative than I did.

It was a very nice dinner and even the children behaved very nicely.
Both of Greg's children were one year older than ours, but they all
seemed to get along very well.  As soon as the dinner was over they
disappeared outside to play on the beach where the restaurant was
located.  We sat at the adjoining bar having a couple of cocktails and
watching the children play.  The wind had died down and it was another
hot and humid evening.  Anne and Poul had a long discussion about
children, and Greg and I had a chance to talk privately about our one
year long 'non-relationship', as he called it.  I thought it was fair
enough after so many years, to tell what I had felt at the time, and
why I hadn't stayed.   I could see he felt pleased that I had told him,
and the atmosphere got a bit more relaxed and intimate, and more drinks
were consumed as the sun started to disappear.

Back at the house we got the children into bed, grabbed a six-pack of
beer and went for a walk by the water.  We sat on a couple of
overturned boats and were having a couple of beers when Poul suggested
we should go for a swim.  The sea was calm, the moon was just up, the
beach was deserted, so why not. We hadn't got any swimsuits, but both
Anne and I had bikini bottoms on, so it was only a question of being
topless.  That shouldn't have bothered me, but it did.  As I dropped
the dress and bent down to step out of it, my legs were shaking. , I
noticed Greg's stare. , I was just so much aware of his attention to my
hanging breasts, of which, from his position, he had a perfect side
view.  I tried to ignore him, but as he undid and dropped his trousers,
I couldn't help notice the large bulge in his pants[PJ3].  I didn't
mention anything, but I felt my nipples go hard, and all of a sudden, I
was very much aware that it was the first time he had actually seen my
naked breasts, despite a whole year of close friendship.

We all raced to the water.  It was warm and very refreshing, and I
managed to forget about Greg's attention to my breasts.  We finally got
cold.  Anne and Poul were first out of the water and dared each other
to go for a run to get dry and warm.  I couldn't be bothered so I just
went ahead up to the boats, with Greg trailing right after me.  When I
got there I found there was another dilemma I hadn't considered.  I
wanted to take off my wet bikini bottoms.  I could put on the dress,
and take them off under the cover of the dress.  On the other hand I
was still dripping wet and didn't want to get the dress all wet with
salty water.  All of a sudden my exhibitionistic tendencies hit me, and
I just felt so excited from the thought of undressing in front of Greg
and to see what he would say.  I knew he was standing close behind me,
but I just pretended to ignore him.   I slipped my fingers under the
thin material and pulled down the bikini bottoms.  In bending down I
purposely turned my back to Greg so he could see my upturned rear-end.
I shivered as I stood up again.  My nipples were rock hard and
surrounded with goose pimples, caused by the cold night air.  As I
turned round to face Greg, I got a shock when I realised he had also
dropped his shorts and was now sporting the most erect penis I had seen
for a long time.  Not that it was unusually large, but it was so hard
that I could even see it throbbing with each heartbeat.  The moonlight
was quite bright and in the glare I could see a small drop of lubricant
forming at the tip.  The head was shiny and surprisingly large, at the
end of an otherwise long but thin shaft.  I think my jaw must have
dropped as I stood and stared in awe.

"I am sorry," he said as he watched me stare at him. "I really can't
help it.  There was no way I could hide the effect you have on me, so I
though I might as well give up."

I kept staring at it, not knowing what to say. "I don't . . . " I
stared, then I stopped and tried again. "There isn't anything to
apologise for.  It is actually very flattering.  It should be me being
sorry for getting you so frustrated.  I shouldn't have undressed like
that in front of you."

"But, I am very pleased that you did.  You know in all the time we were
together, I haven't once seen your breasts, or any other part of you
naked.  And now all of a sudden, when we aren't together anymore, I see
it all.  It just makes me even more sorry for what I missed at the
time."

I looked at his dick again.  He watched me looking, but neither of us
did anything.  I felt very tempted to reach out and touch it; to see if
really was as hard as it seemed.  But that would be asking for
trouble.  I looked over my shoulder and saw that Poul and Anne had
stopped running and were walking back.  It would only be a few minutes
before they were close enough to see us standing together naked gawking
at each other.  I bent down for my dress, but this time I purposely put
it on over my head to offer him a good view of my breasts as I put my
hands in the air to slip it over my head.  I hesitated a little before
I pulled it down shutting off his view. I almost felt disappointed.  In
a way I had loved the feeling of his eyes on my body.  Had we been
alone I am not sure what would have happened.

I turned around and looked for Anne and Poul.  They were at the edge of
the water, deep in some conversation.  I couldn't help it; I took at
step backwards and still facing the water, I grabbed the dick behind
me.  I ran the palm of my hand over the tip, lubricating it and slowly
sliding my hand down its length.  It was as hard as a piece of bone.  I
heard Greg gasp, but as I ran my hand back along the length of the
shaft I let go, and as I ran towards the water I called softly over my
shoulder, "Now don't injure yourself getting that rod back into your
trousers."

I reached Poul and threw myself at him.  Suddenly I was feeling cold.
He hugged me and gave me a little kiss.  The guilt hit me.  I didn't
know why I had done what I did to Greg.  I had intended to keep my
distance, but I just couldn't help it.  The old fire was rekindled.  I
was now being punished for the year of pain I had administered to
Greg.  I hugged Poul again, and decided to forget about Greg.

Poul and I made hot and passionate love that night.  I am sure Anne's
breasts must have had an effect on him as well.  As I fell asleep, I
remember my last thoughts were not to let Greg get in the way of my
perfect relationship with Poul.

That resolve lasted all the next day.  Again it was windy so we were
mostly at the pool.  I wore my somewhat more decent bikini, and managed
to avoid Greg's eyes.  But I was very conscious of the electricity
between us.  When I was dozing in the sun, I had the picture of his rod-
firm dick in all my dreams and I often found it necessary to go for
dips in the pool, not only to cool off, but also to wash the greasy
spot which I knew kept developing between my legs.  That evening I was
just so horny again that I was not at all pleased with Poul getting
himself too drunk to be of any use, and I had to go to sleep very
sexually unsatisfied.

Sunday was a beautiful day again, but his time with no wind.  Poul was
not feeling too good so he was just going to stay by the pool.  Anne
promised she would take the children to the beach.  Greg was going to
join them once he had been to the town for petrol for the small
speedboat which belonged to the house, and with which he was planning
to teach the children water-skiing.

I was planning to make love to Poul at the poolside as soon as we had
the place to ourselves.  I put on my small bikini again and went to
straddle Poul's lap.  The pool area was quite secluded and I was too
frustrated and excited to care, even if somebody could have sneaked up
on us to watch.  He looked up at me surprised.

"What are you doing?" he said, as I started to slide back and forth
over his dick and placed his hands on my breasts.

"What does it look like I am doing, stupid?" I asked.  I pulled the
material aside baring my wet and excited pussy lips, and sliding up and
down his thighs, leaving wet trails as if a snail has passed over his
legs.

He groaned.  "Jenny, I can't do that.  I feel sick this morning, I have
a headache and even if that wasn't the case, I don't think this is the
right place.  We wouldn't see if any of the children had come back
until they were right on top of us."

Of course he was right, and I could understand the last bit.  But I was
pissed off that he had got himself in such a condition.  At least we
could have gone somewhere else.  But of course he didn't know the state
I was in either.  I grunted something, gave him a kiss and left him.  I
needed to get my thoughts on something else, so I decided to go and do
the dishes from last night.  There was no dishwasher, and there was
quite a bit to get through, as it all had to be cleared before we left
in the afternoon.

 From the kitchen sink I could look out through a small window and see
Poul turning restlessly on a sun lounger by the pool.  Through the
bushes I could see the beach no more than about 75 meters away.  The
two younger children were building sandcastles while the older ones,
together with Anne, were trying to get the boat to the water.  It was a
very peaceful picture and I stopped working and got lost in thought.

Suddenly I heard steps and realised that Greg was back.  Again I felt
the electric shock and the guilt from being in here alone with him.  He
wanted to wash his hands at the sink as he had got petrol all over
himself.  I moved aside, but as I did I noticed his eyes on my small
bikini.  I felt dizzy.  He dried his hands and I went back to washing
the plates, turning my back to him.  I wanted him to leave, to stop
making me feel like that.  But I was aware that he hadn't moved and was
still behind me.

"Jennifer," he said using my full name, which I couldn't remember him
ever doing before,  "you look absolutely fantastic.  I can't get the
sight of you the other night on the beach, night out of my head."

I looked out at the sleeping Poul.  Then I closed my eyes and thought
about Greg's dick, now no more than a foot behind me.  I could just
stretch out my hands and touch it like the other night.  I opened my
eyes again, hoping that the sight of Poul would make me forget the
feeling of that hard rod, and the thought of what it would be like.  It
didn't.  I looked for help from the children on the beach, but the
quietness here, and the heavy breathing coming from both of us,
overshadowed the family tie feelings' which I had hoped would
strengthen by focusing on the children on the beach.

"Jenny," he said, this time using the shorter form of my name, "I can't
help thinking about what I have missed.  That you really felt like that
about me when we were together.  What we could have had together.  You
don't know what it was like living around you those days.  I was
constantly torn between jealousy and sexual frustration.  I feel like
that now, not so much the jealousy, but the sexual frustration.  I feel
you coming on to me sometimes, and then going cold at other times.
Just like then."

He put a hand on my shoulder.  He was as close as he could be without
actually leaning against me.  I could feel the heat emanating from
him.  He smelled husky, with the still strong smell of petrol that just
made him smell even more masculine.

"Oh, Greg," I said, with a deep sigh, "it is not a question of going
cold, it is a question of trying to exercise control."

"Let go of the control, Jen. I am dying for you.  I'm going back to
Glasgow tonight.  I want to be able to have the completed dream of our
relationship in my head.  Remove the 'non' from the non-relationship."

He had moved all the way in now.  He was leaning against me.  Both his
hands were playing very lightly on my shoulders.  I knew he was looking
over my shoulder down my front.  I knew that he knew that I was excited
as well.  I couldn't hide my heavy breathing or my nipples that were
only just covered by the thin strip of material.  I could clearly feel
his hardness pressing against my bum.  I leant back against him.  He
undid the knot holding up the bikini top and as the material fell away,
I felt the cool air on my nipples, and I looked out at Poul.  As my
breasts appeared I felt the hardness against my back grow.  He moved a
bit away, to be able to undo the ties at my back, so my top fell to the
floor.  I kept looking at Poul.  Could I go through with this?  I was
so aroused and frustrated.  Why had Poul had to get so drunk?

Greg bent down and kissed my shoulder.  I stretched my arms up and
folded my hands behind his head.  My resolve was vanishing.  His hands
moved down from my shoulders and cupped my breasts.  I pressed myself
back against him and felt his naked dick again, hard as a rock, digging
into me.  He must have dropped his shorts as he undid the back knot of
the bikini. He let go of a breast and moved his dick between my bum
cheeks.  I stood on my toes so he could slip it between my legs.  I
pulled his head down as I stretched up on my toes so his mouth could
reach mine.  My lips tingled.  We had kissed before, but never like
this.  So hungry.  Both his hands were again on my breasts, cupping
them, squeezing them up, rolling the nipples between his fingers.

The movements of his dick against the thin material of the bikini
bottoms were making me frustrated.

"Get them off me," I managed to whisper when his mouth left mine to
travel down my neck. He let the nails of his fingers trail down my
sides.  They just caught hold of the ties there and kept pulling them
down in one smooth motion.  His mouth followed in a parallel movement
down my back as he bent to pull them all the way down.  I couldn't help
it.  I had to turn around so his lips would reach my breasts.  I put my
hands around them and squeezed them in pointed cones, so he could suck
them into his mouth.  He sucked hard - so hard I almost screamed.  His
fingernails traced their way up the inside of my legs.  I let go of my
breasts and put my arms around his shoulders as he lifted me onto on
the table.  I had to sit on the very edge in order not to fall back
into the sink[PJ4], but that just meant that as I spread my legs for
his fingers, I was much closer to the wonderful rod straining towards
me.  We both looked down as he grabbed it and slowly rubbed it against
the outside of my lips with circling motions, avoiding the place where
I most wanted it.

I was just about to launch myself off the table and jump onto his rod,
when I realised the danger in our position.  We might be right in the
middle of a hot sexual embrace, and we would have had no way of knowing
if anybody was coming.

"No, stop Greg, this won't do," I said as I climbed off the table.  I
turned around so I could look out the window.  Poul appeared awake, but
didn't seem to be getting up.  The children were playing happily.  I
leant forward; I rested one hand on the table while I reached between
my legs for Greg's dick, which I knew would be hovering right behind
me.  It was so hard I could hardly bend it down towards me.  As I stood
on my toes, Greg leant over me.  He also rested a hand on the table,
and while his other hand grabbed my left breast, I guided him into me.
It was one long slow slide reaching all the way to the end.  All this
time I was looking out at Poul, thinking that I was breaking something
between us.  But I couldn't help it.  There seemed to be some old bond
between Greg and me, which I couldn't let go of until we had done this.

Greg was taking long slow strokes[PJ5].  I stood up a bit more,
wondering how much anybody looking at the window could see.  It was a
small window, only at head and shoulder height, but the movements of
two people in this position would give away the situation immediately.
I kept staring out at Poul, who fortunately wasn't looking at the
window, but now I had trouble focusing as Greg was picking up speed.  I
had to hold on with the other hand as Greg grabbed the other breast and
squeezed my nipples.  The movement of his dick inside me was just so
strong.  I did the best I could to match his stroke, pushing back
against him as he rammed his hips into my bum cheeks with loud slapping
sounds.

I don't know what is was, but the feeling was so intense.  Maybe it was
the situation.  Doing this while I was looking out at the family, had a
strange effect on me.   Maybe it was the size and hardness of his dick,
or perhaps it was my pent up frustration, but as the excitement started
to build in me, I started to lose my composure.  I was panting and I
heard myself making sounds, which I tried to mute without much success.

"Oh yeah, Greg, harder, harder. Oh my god, that is just sooo good.
Ohhh, we should have done this before, don't stop now, Greg!" I
pleaded, as he stopped.

"Move your legs together," he said, guiding them together.   He put a
hand on my shoulder and pushed me down on my elbows.  I sensed that he
had spread his own legs so he could lower himself to my level, and
gripping my hips, he again slid into me.  I cried out loudly as the
sensation was completely different in this position.  I could now
squeeze my legs tightly together and increase the friction.  Also being
bent further down I could feel him at a different angle. It wasn't long
before I started to feel my first orgasm approaching.  From my position
I couldn't look out the window any longer, and I was worried about that
so I didn't want to hold back.  I wanted it over soon.  I urged him on,
letting him know how close I was to coming.

"Faster, faster, Greg.  Oh God, I am going to explode, harder now,
yeah, yeah, yeah . . ."  I was getting too loud.  As the first wave hit
me, I shook my head from side to side and bit my lips hard to stop
screaming.  Greg grabbed my breasts and pulled me into a more upright
position, while he slowly continued the motions.  The changed position
increased the feeling and the next big wave hit me, as I was again able
to look out the window.  Guilt and pleasure mixed, as I watched the
children playing on the beach, as their mother was getting fucked.
Greg started to move again.

"Jenny, stay like that. Oh God that is good," he whispered in my ear.

"Hurry up," I said, " we have to get out to the others."

"Hmmm," was the immediate reply.  "Just one minute.  This position is
so good."

I leant all the was back up against him.  In this position I could feel
him hitting my g-spot with each thrust, and before long I was coming
again.  If it wasn't for his long hard dick, it wouldn't have been
possible to carry on in this position.  But rather than deep strokes,
he was now using small fast jabs so he wouldn't slip out of me, and
each of those jabs hit right at the front of my vagina.  I felt like
letting go of my water[PJ6], the sensation was so strange but
incredible.  Soon I could hear Greg was about to come.  I didn't want
to come again, I was enjoying this other sensation, but as he picked up
speed and thrust deeper, I couldn't help it.  I put a finger on my love
button and played with it, adjusting the speed to match the time when I
sensed Greg was coming.  I synchronised it perfectly because just as I
felt the first of his involuntary spasms, my fingers sped up and I felt
my own orgasm hitting me hard again.

Slowly I lowered myself down from my toes and pushed him back a bit as
I again rested my hand on the table.  Still no movement from Poul, but
the boat was now in the water, only waiting for the petrol before it
was ready.  I felt him slowly slipping out of me.

Greg kissed my shoulder.  "Jennifer, that was so fantastic.  I never
thought it would be like that.  I have had so many dreams about doing
this with you, but I had never imagined it would be like this."

He was slipping all the way out of me.  I thought it safe to turn
around.  "Greg, just shut up and kiss me."  We gave each other the
first and only kiss that we had ever had which was oozing with sex.  He
finally stopped, glanced out the window and then gently pushed me away
while he looked down at me.

"I am so glad we did this.  I have no intention of trying to get more
out of it than this, but this seems to put an end to all the fantasies
and dreams I have had of you.  I wished we had done it at the time, but
at least in my mind our relationship has come to a happy ending, and I
can move into one of friendship instead of a frustrating dream."  He
gave me a short brotherly kiss and as he moved away from me, he just
ran his hands down my breast, getting a last good look at my body,
which I was happy to let him do.

I turned around and looked out the window again.  Had I done any damage
to my relationship with Poul, or would the final closing of a door
which had been ajar for so long, actually help us?  I was far away in
thought and didn't even realise that Greg had left until I saw him on
the way to the beach, carrying two jerry cans of petrol.  I remembered
that I was standing here stark naked with his semen [PJ7]running down
my legs.   "What the hell," I said to myself, "who cares?"  What Poul
didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

I changed and cleaned up.  I spent the rest of the day water-skiing.
Greg and I were just like old friends.  A completely normal
friendship.  Anne was having a good time.  She was a good skier.  Even
Poul had a go at it after lunch.  Finally we cleared up, packed the
cars and left.  I gave Greg a good kiss on the mouth in front of
everybody.  In the car on the way home, Poul asked if I was glad we had
gone to see them.  I said I was, but I still felt guilty.  I was glad
the relationship with Greg had ended in this way, but I wasn't so proud
of what I had done to Poul.

Jennifer Doalfer Copyright 2000

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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