Facets of Love Ch. 01

"Whoa, ease up on your mom for a second. She has a point about being with people your own age. It's taken me six years to work my way through college. I'm like six years older than you and..."

"My Dad's twelve years older than Mom and there's nothing wrong with their marriage."

"Okay, there's that. But suppose I had called you. There's no guarantee we'd hit it off. I'm an Alabama farm boy. You're a Florida socialite. You grew up with money. I was raised next to a pig pen. Good chance our first date would have been a one and done and you'd still would have ended up at that frat party."

"Do you really believe that?" I asked.

"No, I don't. At least I hope it won't."

"You hope what won't?"

"Our first date. I hope it won't be our last."

"Are you asking me out now?"

"I am. What are you doing for the rest of the day?"

"If I spend it with you, do you have to give Mom her money back?"

"Not if I spend it on you."

That morning's breakfast was, hands down, the best of my life. Not because of the food. Robert's eggs were a little too runny for me and the bacon was slightly burnt. But he could have served me left over lizard guts and I still would have enjoyed the experience.

The furniture in Robert's trailer was spartan, at best. A vinyl couch, barely wide enough for two people backed up to the bathroom. A small removable table sat just in front of the couch and Robert pulled a folding chair up to the table, allowing us to eat together without bumping elbows.

The food sucked, and the ambiance was even worse. So how did it make number one on my breakfast of champions list? In my mind, it marked my transition from girl to woman.

Remember, all I was wearing at the time was Robert's white dress shirt. No bra. No panties. And even though the tail of his shirt was long enough to cover my ass when standing, by the time I maneuvered into a comfortable sitting position, the shirt had shifted upwards leaving nothing between my bare bottom and the vinyl. Which normally would not be all that comfortable on a cool December morning, if Robert hadn't installed a seat warmer in the couch. It did a wonderful job of toasting my tushy but didn't explain why my nipples were trying their best to poke through the soft material of the white dress shirt. Perhaps Robert's inability to keep his dark chocolate brown eyes from staring directly into my baby blues had something to do with my elevated heart rate and the hint of moistness between my legs.

"You mind if I borrow my shirt when you're done with it?" he asked when I went into the bedroom after breakfast to change.

"It's a little wrinkled," I said.

And there might be a small wet spot on the tail, I thought.

"That's okay. I'll give it a quick runover with an iron. It's my only dress shirt and I'm going to need it tonight."

"Are you taking me somewhere fancy? Do I need to stop by the dorm for a change of clothes?"

"Yes, to fancy, and no to stopping by the dorm."

"But..."

"Go change, I'll explain on the way."

I felt a little embarrassed putting on the same clothes I'd worn the previous night. Sure, Robert had run them through the washer and dryer, but if anybody who was at the frat party saw me around town, they would know I'd spent the night someplace besides my dorm room. And the last thing I wanted was to have people think I'd slept with one of those fraternity assholes. But it was either last night's clothes or Robert's shirt, which would give people the same impression.

Robert's plan negated all of my "walk of shame" concerns.

Montgomery, the capital of Alabama, is only an hour drive from Auburn. Yes, Auburn and its adjoining town of Opelika had clothing stores, restaurants, and entertainment, but Montgomery had a better selection of each, and we wouldn't have to worry about running into any of my friends (or enemies).

We started at Victoria's Secret (where Robert was visibly uncomfortable), hit several dress shops (still not his thing), spent a good bit of time looking at blouses and designer jeans (by that time Robert was either getting used to shopping in women's stores or really got a kick out of seeing me try on tight fitting clothes), and ended up in a shoe store where I picked out some flats and, at Robert's insistence, my first pair of cowgirl boots. All financed by the five-hundred-dollar "don't contact my daughter" bribe from Mom.

It wasn't all about me. I insisted we stop at a men's store to buy Robert a new dress shirt which I paid for with my own money... "under the condition that I get your old shirt and can store it in your closet."

Having depleted most of Mom's bribe money we enjoyed a romantic dinner in a quaint Italian restaurant and then, after sharing a crème brulee for dessert, Robert took me back to his truck, rummaged through our assorted packages, and selected my wardrobe for the rest of the evening.

At that point in my young life, I wasn't a country music fan. That's not to say I didn't like country; I'd just never been exposed to the culture. I'd also never worn boots with a skirt before. Actually, I'd never worn boots period. As a Florida girl, I grew up in sandals and flip flops. But when I noticed most of the women walking towards the concert venue were dressed similar to me, I sucked it up, held tight to Robert's arm and let him lead me to our seats.

Twenty minutes into the show, I was a convert. I didn't recognize the names of any of the performers. One of the acts was a comedian who made fun of rednecks and, even though half the audience qualified, they all laughed their asses off when he went through a dozen "you might be a Redneck if" jokes. The headliner was an older gentleman. Vince something. The way people yelled and screamed when he was introduced made it hard to hear his last name. I think it was Hill, but it might have been Gill. Doesn't matter. I loved his music. It reminded me of the stuff my Uncle James listened to.

A nearly full moon rose during the drive back to Auburn. Robert's truck had an old-style bench seat in front, and he took his time driving home... me snuggled up against him, his arm around me. Neither of us wanted the day to end. I spent the entire hour thinking about what I would do when we got back to the dorm. How do you properly thank a man for the most amazing day of your life. I came up with more than a dozen witty and romantic things to say but, when he pulled up to my building, I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and said...

"Wait here please, I've got to get something."

"How about your packages," he called after me. "Do you want me to carry them up?"

I ignored him and rushed up the stairs to my room.

"Where the hell have you been?" Casandra, my roommate, asked as I barged breathlessly through the door.

"Out. On a date."

"Really? Last night and all day today? I heard a rumor you kneed that Don guy in the balls and then just disappeared from the party. And where the hell did you get those clothes?"

"Can't talk right now. The date's not over yet."

I rushed into our shared bathroom, took a pill, grabbed my toothbrush, and headed for the door.

"What do you mean the date's not over. And what's with the toothbrush?" Cassandra asked. And then she looked out the window. "Oh my God. It's him, isn't it? It's pickup man. I'll be expecting a full report in the morning and make sure you-"

Whatever she said next was lost to the cacophony of my feet stomping on the wooden floor and my heart pounding in my chest.

-

Robert Ryan Jones

Taking Mary to my trailer after rescuing her from those fraternity degenerates made sense. She was wet, cold, and frightened. I knew her Mom didn't want me to socialize with her, but after what she'd just been through, I didn't feel right dropping her off at the dorm to spend the night reliving the experience. It was an emergency.

Taking her shopping the following day, I justified as follow up care. She was devastated when she read the letter from her mom to me. So, letting Mary spend her mother's money on clothes was my way of helping Dr. Spencer apologize to her daughter.

The dinner and concert? Well, we had to eat. And passing up a chance to see Vince Gill sing in person is like saying, "yeah, I know Jesus is giving a sermon on that hill over there, but I'll pass. I've got better things to do."

Granted, we just spent the past twenty-four hours together, but during that entire time, I barely touched the girl. Sure, I picked up her soaking wet body, dumped her into my pickup truck and subsequently carried her from the truck to my bedroom, but even though she was naked at the time, the blanket kept her mostly covered.

Me hugging her while she cried after reading the letter the following morning and the occasional handholding during the day was simply the chivalrous thing to do. I did have my arm around her during the drive home from Montgomery but, other than that, we mostly stayed physically separate.

There was no kissing... except for Mary giving me a couple pecks on the cheek, which was her way of saying thank you... and that one time during the concert where I might have grabbed her in my arms and planted a wet one on her lips. Some of those Vince Gill songs just make me do crazy things.

My point is, up to the moment where I dropped Mary off at her dorm, I faithfully followed the intent of her mother's desires. Until Mary ran up to her room and returned with a toothbrush.

I never claimed to be the slyest fox in the forest, but even a country bumpkin like me, a man who needed six years to get through college, even I knew what Mary had in mind. And I didn't say no.

I didn't push her away when she snuggled up to me during the short drive from her dorm to my trailer.

I didn't hold back when she took my hand and led me directly to the bedroom.

I didn't avert my eyes when she unbuttoned her blouse and I continued to stare when she removed both her shirt and bra.

I didn't pull away when she teasingly unbuttoned my brand-new shirt and ran her hands up and down my bare chest.

And when she took my hands and placed them on her breasts, I left them there.

And played with her boobs.

And kissed her on the lips.

And on her chin.

And her nips.

I'm not sure how her skirt and panties ended up in a pile next to my jeans and boxers. And I'm sure we helped each other get our boots off, but those details didn't stick with me.

Because my entire being was overwhelmed with the prettiest pussy I would ever see... and stroke... and finger... until it was slicker than a fresh caught bass.

And when she came - when I played with her cute little clit until her legs stiffened, her toes pointed, and her entire upper body shuddered - I could have, should have, called it a night. Should have tucked her under the covers and crashed on my couch.

But I didn't.

"Where are you going?" she asked as I rolled out of bed.

"Getting a condom."

"No need. I'm on the pill. Now get your ass back in bed. We're not done yet."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm sure I'm on the pill. I just took one. And I'm also sure I want to be with you. The proper way. The biblical way. I want you to take me, right now, here in your bed. I'm tired of being a mommy's girl. I want you to make me a woman."

If my brain had been in charge of my body, I would have run out the door and kept running until I was in the next county. Because a man shouldn't take a girl's virginity just so she can get back at her momma.

But my brain was playing second fiddle to my cock at the time and, before I knew it, I was past Mary's protective barrier, doing my best to make her first time a memorable event. I'm fairly sure she experienced a second coming, and it was a religious experience for me as well. An altar at which I would gladly worship for the rest of my days.

Little did I know.

-

Mary Spencer

My first time was everything I hoped it would be, and then some. Unlike most girls, I didn't lose my virginity in the back seat of a car... after my senior prom... to a guy I'd never see again.

Robert did it right. He rescued me, consoled me, dated me, seduced me, and then pleasured me. All the required elements of a perfect courtship and all in the right order. Mom would argue that he should have married me before he fucked me, but after what she did, who was she to criticize?

Surprisingly, what came after I lost my virginity was just as enjoyable as the actual event. Again, unlike the typical pull up her dress, pull down his pants, do the deed, get dressed, and get home; Robert and I did it completely naked, in a bed, and then stayed there, for the rest of the night.

There is something especially erotic about waking up in someone's arms, my butt snuggled up against his belly, his hands cupping my breasts, his morning erection poking between my thighs. On that special morning, the first time I woke in the embrace of a man, I wanted to lie there forever. I was perfectly content with my life and completely in love with the man. And when he finally woke, his simple "good morning", given with a kiss on the back of my neck, would have been all I needed to keep me happy for the rest of the day. After that, he could have jumped out of bed, and I would have gladly fixed him breakfast while he got ready for work.

Robert did more than kiss my neck that morning. And an hour later, when we took our first shower together, I was convinced he was the only man I'd ever want.

I was right, sort of.

***

Dear reader. Thank you for taking the time to read Chapter 1 of Facets of Love.

Please rate my story. An author needs at least fifty ratings in the first month of publication to qualify for a Literotica Reader's Choice Award. My goal is to win at least one of these awards so that I can increase my followership. If you enjoyed the story, leave a rating.

I also want your constructive comments which I will use to write stories you look forward to reading.

Chapter 2 has already been submitted. It starts with Mary taking Robert home for Christmas to meet her father and try to placate her mother. Is this the event that throws doubt on our star-crossed lovers future? Or does something else challenge their happiness?

A