A Polaroid of Kristine, Part 5 - Sex Stories

A Polaroid of Kristine, Part 5

The picture of Kristina, naked and inviting, was a blessing and a curse. It was taking me through my the pages of my memory, and we were getting to the day when she had first guided me through anal sex with her, patiently and enthusiastically. Finding the Polaroid unexpectedly in an old book had been a bolt from the blue, and memories of my first love had been coming flooding back to me, along with the shame of not having thought about her in close to twenty-five years. And there was pain too, grief that I should have felt then but which I had managed to block out. She looked impossibly lovely in that picture, smiling brightly at me in the bed we had made love in so many times, her long legs slightly spread, the fingers of one hand parting her pussy just the tiniest bit. Why I had managed to put her out of my head for so long made sense now that I thought about it. It did not, however, lessen the shame I felt. The only way I could find even a glimmer of forgiveness was to remind myself that the eighteen-year-old version of myself was just that, eighteen, and barely past boyhood. Kristina on the other hand had been older than I was now, though probably not by much. The greatest gift she gave me, even greater than our physical adventures, which had been tremendous, was to make me feel attractive for the first time. The summer between high school and college I had decided to embark on a program of intense physical exercise to try to transform myself before starting college. I ...

... swam, ran, and lifted weights every day, and the results were fast and dramatic. To everyone except for me, that is. I had a harder time seeing that my formerly pudgy and pasty physique had hardened and broadened in some places, and slimmed down in other places as well. Kristina, with an offhand comment in the weight room, had made me feel like an attractive man . And a few weeks after that she had seduced me in her apartment. Despite her “advanced age” of forty-seven or so, she had been impossibly beautiful even to a shallow teenager. Tall, regally slim, though with definite femininity. Blond hair almost always worn up, presumably to emphasize her elegant neck, which was an amazing feature. But even beyond her gorgeous body, her face was what struck me most, even as a hormone-riddled kid. She radiated a certain European elegance and poise, but her eyes made her face youthful, sometimes even girlish. They were a deep emerald green, and they always seemed to be smiling. It was her ass, however, that preoccupied my mind at this point in the story, both then and now. After two days of fun together, she had nudged out that fantasy from me, and had promised to fulfill my curiosity about anal sex. Except she had told me it would have to wait until the following day. And the problem was that after leaving her apartment, I had not thought to make a plan with her for the next day. So, that morning saw me wake up early, with Kristina on my mind. I wasn’t thinking rationally or clearly. I ...