The Intern

Some people believe that you can never get away from your past. Five years ago I found that to be true and the knowledge still haunts me.

At that time I was on top of the world. I was thirty-five, and the new General Manager of a major retail store in the city. I had worked hard and had succeeded without having to sell my body to the office power brokers. I was attractive, smart and I was tough.

Then I saw Steven.

GM's don't pay attention to twenty year old student interns, working a nothing job to pick up a few bucks and some merchandizing savvy. They're invisible. But not Steven. You couldn't help but notice him.

Steven was tall; had dark hair and eyes that always seem to be smiling. He was well built, but lithe rather than muscular. He moved with ease and grace. That's what caught my eye. He moved like a young Cary Grant; easy and self-assured. And he was always smiling.

I knew I was acting foolish, but I found myself looking for him when I was on the floor of the store; and when I would see him talking to one of the young sales girls, smiling that smile of his, I actually felt a stab of hot jealousy. I could have cheerfully strangled each and every one of the little bitches.

I began to have erotic dreams about him; dreams that were almost pornographic, and so real that I'd wake up to a shattering orgasm, embarrassed to realize that I had been playing with myself. The feeling of disappointment was even stronger than the embarrassment of masturbation.

Steven began to fill my thoughts both day and night. I felt like an old lecher robbing the cradle. What was it about this young man that stimulated me so? That caused these strange feelings to surge through my body? Could I actually be in love with him? Or was I just a horny old maid lusting after a set of tight, young buns?

I finally said, to hell with it! I was a wreck and I hadn't even spoken a word to him! I resolved to get him out of my mind. When I was a young girl, I had had one very bad experience with an older guy. I wasn't about to repeat that mistake with a younger one. So I threw myself back into my work. As far as I was concerned, Steven was history!

One evening, after the end of store hours, I was working on the Fall projections when I felt a presence in front of my desk. Startled, I looked up and there he was, holding a large computer printout. The color rose to cheeks and I stammered like a schoolgirl. I quickly stood up, took off my glasses and automatically straightened my hair.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," he said, "Mr. Deal said you needed this right away."

My mouth was open and I stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. I couldn't believe my ears. His voice sounded exactly as it had in my dreams! I knew I had never heard him speak; how did I know what his voice was like?

"Are you alright?" he asked shyly.

"Er, yes," I said hastily, suddenly coming back to reality. "I'm sorry ... I must have day dreaming. Th ... thank you for bringing this to me.

He smiled that smile, nodded and started to turn away. I searched for something to say - anything to make him stay, but I couldn't. My mind was blank.

Steven hesitated at the door. He turned and looked at me. I had this overpowering desire to leap across the desk, drag him to the floor and rape him. My legs were actually trembling.

"I hope you won't take this wrong, but I ... I think you should think about contacts. You're really beautiful without glasses ... I mean ..." He was blushing. My heart flip-flopped. "I'm not being rude," he said hastily, "I just wanted you to know that." He turned to leave.

"Steven?" I called. He stopped and turned, resigned to the rebuke he thought was coming.

I walked up to him, reached behind and pushed the door closed. My arms continued around him. I pulled him close, reveling in the touch of his hard body; my lips sought his. They were soft, then hard, then demanding.

The dam broke!

I was on him like a feline predator, tearing at his clothes, hungry for his body, all sense of caution, of reality, gone. The only thing that mattered was my desire for this beautiful young man who tormented me so.

His voice was far away and my befuddled mind caught only parts of what he was saying.

"... want you ... dreaming about you ... can't think ... only you ..."

He wanted me! I was in Heaven!

Suddenly, as if by magic, we were naked. Sitting there on the couch, his thick raging manhood jutting proudly upward, he truly was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

My breath was ragged. His chest heaved. I wanted to devour him. My hands caressed his body; his chest, his arms, his thighs. I rubbed my palms over the crown of his penis. It jumped at my touch like a living thing. Slowly, without a word between us, I straddled his throbbing member; gripped it tightly, and guided it into my body.

For one split second I hung over the very edge of the universe, balanced on the extreme tip of his being. My brain whirled with the sheer majesty of it; my heart swelled with love. Then with a guttural groan, Steven grabbed my asscheeks and plunged his hard-ridged penis into my waiting body.

My hunger lubricated his way as a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors exploded in my brain. Beads of perspiration popped out on my brow. I was whole! I was full! Time and space had no meaning to me.

I felt his lips on the hardened nipples of my full breasts and new, wicked, shivers ran up and down my spine. His hips beat frantically against mine. I gripped the back of the couch, raised my feet to the seat; giving him full and complete access to my body. Each powerful thrust slammed into my pleasure-raw body. Eyes closed, face contorted with lust, my head thrashed about in uncontrolled passion. My entire being screamed for release.

"Oh, God! Steven! I love you! ... Love you! ... Now! ... Cum with me! Cum!"

"Aaaaaah, yeahhhh!" he screamed.

Our bodies erupted in a simultaneous explosion of hot, sticky love and lust. My legs tuned to jelly and my body shook with orgasmic spasms. I hung on to his hard, pulsing body; gasping for breath. My fingers dug into his shoulders as the last tremor passed through me.

Slowly, I slide down his slippery torso, feeling a supreme sense of loss as he slipped from my body. I licked at his body, my tongue trailing a wet path to his manhood. My fevered brain still cried out for him. I buried my face in the thick tangle of hair protecting his now flaccid penis. It was wet with our secretions. I saw tiny droplets of cum sparkle in the soft light.

My tongue laved his meaty shaft, cleaning our juices. I cupped his heavy testicles and guided his limp member into my mouth. Gently, I began to bring it back to life. I felt it grow, harden and begin to fill my mouth. He sighed and pulled his legs up and out giving me more room to pleasure him. The birthmark was on his inner thigh; long, odd-shaped, like a reversed lightening bolt.

I gagged. My chest constricted, caught in a steel vise. I couldn't catch my breath. Panic flooded my brain. I think I screamed but I'm not sure. Somehow I made it to my bathroom before I threw up; my stomach having bile and shame. Tears clouded my eyes, and sobs racked my body.

Steven tried to comfort me; concern clearly etched on his face. I struck out at him with all the strength of my betrayed body. "Get out!" I yelled, "Get out now!"

He tried to dress and ward me off at the same time, completely baffled by the sudden turn of events. I drove him from my office, my fists still flaying at his retreating back. I sank to the floor, exhausted; still not believing, yet knowing it was true. The shame was overwhelming.

Don't ask me how I dressed or how I got home, I don't remember. My mind, thankfully, went blank.

I never saw Steven again.

I quit my job the very next day. I didn't even clean out my desk. No one could understand what I was doing. Friends tried to call, fellow workers. I shut them all out.

I went into therapy. I'm better now, not cured, just better. I'll never be cured. How can I be? I can still feel the love, the desire, the connection between us; the longing each of us felt for the other.

Even now my mind will race back all those years to a scared and lonely fifteen year old girl giving birth out of wedlock; her body dripping with sweat and tired beyond belief.

"It's a boy!" the nurse says, "Hale and healthy. You did just fine, dearie."

"Could ... could I see him? ... just for a second, please?"

The nurse hesitates. "Just for a second, hon. His new parents are waiting for him."

I can still see the girl, a baby herself, holding the squirming infant in her arms, checking each miniature feature. The baby's feet jerk at her touch. There is a birthmark on his inner thigh; long, odd-shaped, like a reversed lightening bolt.

"It's time," the nurse said and took the baby away form the reluctant unwed mother. The nurse turned her head when the girl began to cry.

Like I said, you can't escape the past. God, how I loved my son's cock!