I'll Be There For You

Peter planned an afternoon picnic for us. With a "surprise". He prepared and packed the food and beverage and a blanket to stretch out on. We met at a commuter lot where I left my car. I was surprised when we got on the interstate. We mostly talked about our kids during the hour-long drive.

"Annabelle's into gymnastics. She's been doing mat work for a while. Her coach is just getting her started on the balance beam," I told Peter. "Tyler's grandfathers have him into T-ball."

"My kids are as different as night and day," Peter told me. "Brandon is playing coach-pitch Little League this year. His uncle, Jason, coaches the team. I help out where I can, but baseball isn't my game. Nicole is a tomboy. She loves getting dirty. Catching frogs and salamanders. There's a pond behind the house with a marshy area. She likes fishing, too, and isn't squeamish about any part of it. She's going to grow up to be one tough broad," he grinned. "Brianna is the family brainiac. She's only eleven but is in high school already, attending the magnet school in their gifted program. Already doing college level work. She's a natural athlete, too. Good at any sport she tries her hand at, but she really likes volleyball and is playing for a junior high squad. She's already as tall as me," Peter grinned, adding, "She's skinny as a rail, but man she is quick."

Our picnic was on the campus of the private university Peter attended. We spread out the blanket in an area that seemed specifically designated for lounging outdoors. We weren't the only picnickers. Peter packed enough food to feed a small army. After our lunch, Peter led me across the campus in the direction of some athletic fields. We found seats in the stands behind the visitor's dugout at a softball field and watched the last few innings of a game. The university's softball team lost by two to the visitors, a state university branch.

When the game ended, Peter said, "Excuse me for a minute. I want to say 'Hi' to someone," and trotted down to the visitor's dugout. He got the attention of one of the players and spoke briefly with her. A moment later, a coach came out of the dugout and smiled when she saw him. They hugged over the fence and had a brief, smiling and animated conversation while I watched. The coach hugged him again before Peter returned to where I was sitting. She returned to the dugout without watching where Peter went. "Shall we go?" he asked.

"A friend?" I asked, curiously.

"My cousin, Dina. I don't mean to be rude, but it's not time to introduce you to family. I haven't seen Dina in almost a year. Since we were going to be here anyway, I wanted to say a quick hello before she got on the team bus to go home."

Maybe it's a bit petty, but at first, I was a little annoyed to think a date with me was an opportunity to catch up with his cousin, however briefly. But then I caught on to something he'd said. "We were going to be here anyway?" I asked.

"Yeah," he smiled. "That's the surprise. We're going to see Wei Zhang. He's playing a benefit here in a couple hours."

"The cellist? We're not dressed for something like that," I said.

"Sure, we are. It's an outdoor performance at the Shell. I've got lawn tickets."

"How did you manage that on short notice?" I asked. "Wei Zhang tickets must have sold out fast."

"I mentioned I had a date to my sister but had no idea what to do. She practically knocked me over to get to her fridge. Sue and her husband were going to attend this concert. Bob hates classical music. He was ecstatic that she offered up her tickets. Country is more his style though he'd rather listen to the radio than deal with a crowd. Sue was so excited to hear I was going on a date she not only gave me the tickets but offered to take the kids for the day. They're spending the night with their cousins."

I tilted my head and must have made a face. Peter blushed.

"Oh, no . . . no," he stammered. "I didn't clear out the house so I could take you home with me."

I felt a little guilty that the thought had crossed my mind. I laughed and fibbed to disguise it. "I didn't assume you did," I said.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad. I'd never be so presumptuous," he said.

"So, what's the story with the concert?" I asked.

"It's a benefit of some sort," he said. "Wei Zhang is performing as a soloist with the orchestra and then playing a duet with a local girl who's an accomplished cellist. She attends Julliard and has performed with him in the past. She spent last summer at Yale's summer music school. She soloed with the Los Angeles Philharmonic when she was fourteen."

"I didn't know you knew so much about classical music," I said.

"I don't know anything about it. My sister does. She's a music teacher and high school orchestra conductor. Plays a mean viola, too. She told me all about what was going on today. To be honest, I know so little about classical music that I didn't want to take the tickets. But she insisted. Said I didn't have to know anything. I just had to listen.

While I was arguing with her about it, my brother-in-law interrupted. He handed me a beer and told me he needed help with something on his boat. When we got to the boat, I asked what he needed help with. He just smiled, leaned on the boat, and told me he "needed the extra weight to keep the boat from floating away." Then he grinned, "I just wanted to get you away from my wife before you changed her mind and kept the tickets."

I laughed. "Well, I'm glad you didn't change her mind. I've never heard a symphony orchestra in person. Or Wei Zhang. I can't wait."

"We'll be here a bit later than you might have expected. Is that a problem? We can leave early if necessary."

"It should be okay. When should I tell grandma I'll be home?"

"I'll have you at your car around nine or so. The concert starts at five. My sister said the music scheduled should end the concert at about eight."

"Excuse me a moment," I said and walked away a few yards. When I came back, I told him, "Liz said not to hurry. She'll let herself into the house and put the kids to bed if we're late."

"Who's Liz? I thought you said their grandmother had them?" Peter asked. He hesitated for a moment then he realized he may have stuck his foot in his mouth. "Oh, sorry," he added.

"Their paternal grandmother," I told him. "She told me to stop calling her 'Mom' a few months after Malcolm's accident."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . ."

I waved it off. "It'sokay, Peter."

"We'd better get moving. We need to get to the Shell early if we want to get a good spot to spread out our blanket."

After spending the day outside, I was getting sleepy by the time we got back to my car. Peter had picked up a little color on his face from sun exposure despite using sunblock. As a redhead with a fair complexion, I was careful about being in the sun; I wore a broad-brimmed hat and clothing that kept my skin covered. Plus, I repeatedly slathered any exposed skin with sunblock rated around thirty million.

When we got to the commuter lot, Peter parked and hustled around to open my door. He walked me to my car. I smiled up at him after I dug out my keys and unlocked my car with the remote. When he put a hand on my hip and moved to kiss me, I wasn't surprised. Or disappointed. The kiss was nice. It wasn't over the top passionate or aggressive. Just soft and affectionate. It didn't set my loins on fire, but I enjoyed it. I even put my hands on his hips, leaned against him for a moment and rested my head on his shoulder afterward.

"Can we do something together again?" he asked softly as he held me. I felt his soft breath in the hair above my ear.

"I'd like that," I whispered. I felt at ease, safe and comfortable leaning against Peter. I didn't detect an erection as I leaned against him. It had been a long time since a man just held me. One who made no demands or assumptions, but just held me. I broke the embrace after a moment or two but kept a hand on his hip. "I should get going," I said softly.

Peter brushed his lips to mine again. "I know. I'll see you Wednesday, then," he said. He opened my door for me. He smiled as I got in, then closed the door. He didn't try to drag out our parting. He just closed the door behind me and stepped back.

I fastened my seatbelt, started the car, smiled at him once more and drove away. All the way home, I felt relaxed. A sense of peace settled upon me as I drove. I hadn't felt so at ease about a man in a long, long time.

There were only three more weeks of winter league left. The first week, Peter stopped by my lanes when he arrived, still carrying his bowling bag. I'd only been there a couple minutes. I hadn't even had time to rent shoes or look for a ball yet.

"Would you be interested in bowling with me in a summer league?' he asked. "It's a short season. Tuesday rather than Wednesday."

"I can't say yes until I find out if I can get a sitter. Can I let you know next week?"

"Sure. Time for a drink after we're done?" he asked.

"A quick one. I had a tough day. I don't want to be out late."

"Okay, I'll see you later," he said as he hustled away.

I felt a little out of sorts after he left. But I had no idea why. But I dismissed it and set off to find "my" ball and rent shoes. I resolved to come early the following week to visit the pro shop to buy my own ball and shoes. Even if I couldn't bowl in the summer league, I was determined to bowl in the winter league again.

Michele couldn't sit for me once she graduated; she didn't say why, and I didn't ask. But she sent her sister over. Candace was fourteen, almost fifteen. Old enough that I didn't feel uncomfortable with her. She was old enough that Annabelle would listen to her. Tyler was another matter. He was a bit more headstrong. Michele had no trouble with him. He had a bad case of puppy love for Michele. I decided to use Candace on Saturday to keep the kids occupied while I tackled repairing and repainting the trellis in the backyard. The plants around it had died off despite my best efforts to save them. I planned to replant after I restored the trellis. The day went well. Candace kept the kids occupied and out of my hair while I worked. Tyler was as smitten with Candace as he was with Michele. I committed to bowling in the summer league with Peter.

Candace watched the kids for me when I next went out with Peter. Our second date was an afternoon and early evening of miniature golf and go cart racing. We ate hot dogs, fries, and milk shakes served by a roller-skating server, sitting in Peter's car at a retro drive-in. Our second date went well, too. And things got a bit heated when he dropped me at the commuter lot where I left my car. It was still only Parental Guidance. But I was still pretty worked up when I got home; and anxious to see Candace get home after I paid her. Unlike Michele, who never seemed to be in a hurry when she left my house, Candace set a brisk pace walking home.

I went on one more date with Peter before summer league began. This time, he picked me up at home, and of course, dropped me at home at the end of our date. Being at the house when he dropped me off meant goodnight was a G-rated event, suitable for all ages. It didn't matter. I was just as worked up when I went inside as I was after our previous date.

We went our separate ways immediately after the first week of summer league. Michele had graduated the previous night, but Candace had two exams to take the next day and two more days of exams after that. I bowled so-so that night. I was still getting used to my new bowling ball. When I ordered the ball, I brought the ball I'd been using all through winter league. The shop pro suggested I change the grip slightly, promising I'd get better action once I got used to the new ball.

Peter and I went out again that Saturday.

"I'm likely to be a bit later than usual, tonight," I told Candace when she arrived.

"That's okay. It's Saturday, Mrs. Pinkney. School's out. I don't have a curfew when I'm babysitting on Friday or Saturday. Dad doesn't like coming to pick me up if it's real late which is a problem if I need a ride. But he doesn't have to pick me up here."

We spent the evening at a youth agricultural fair and carnival a couple towns away. Other than casual touches, holding my hand, and some heated kissing at the end of an evening, Peter hadn't made a move. I was starting to get anxious about how things were progressing with Peter. Considering when, and where, to light Peter's fuse. As we headed home, we drove by Hurley Meadows Park.

"Turn up there! Turn into Hurley Meadows," I told him. Peter glanced at me with a question on his face. It was well after dark; the park officially closed at sundown but wasn't gated. He dutifully turned into the park. "Find a place to park," I said almost breathlessly.

I was oddly excited. I felt like I did the first time I went parking. With Benny Drummond, a boy I'd spent some time with at school social activities, some basketball games, and several birthday parties. Benny was the first boy my parents let me go on a date with. The first date when a boy driving a car picked me up at home instead of meeting me at a chaperoned party or school social event. What happened that night would have received a Parental Guidance rating at most. But the thrill I got making out with Benny that night stayed with me long after the date ended. As did the rock-hard nipples I got from letting him put his hand inside my bra and feeling his rock-hard erection pressed against me.

Peter parked behind a maintenance building between two Parks Department trucks and killed the engine. I unfastened my seatbelt and turned toward him. "C'mon. Let's go for a walk," I said.

After he took my hand he said, "The park is closed. I hope we don't get cited for trespassing."

"Do you want to take me home instead?" I asked.

"I didn't say that," Peter grinned as he squeezed my hand.

We walked toward a small nearby lake and sat on a stone bench, a row of hedges behind us with the lake before us. I leaned against Peter and rested my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me and pulled me tightly to him. A first-quarter moon was reflected on perfectly still, black water.

I sensed Peter's hesitance. My affection for Peter had been growing for a while. I think I became attracted to him before he actually asked me out. He was kind and considerate. Had a self-deprecating sense of humor. And a knack for making me feel good. I wanted to begin a physical relationship. Before he took me home that night.

I lifted my head off Peter's shoulder and turned to face him. He only hesitated for a moment before he kissed me. It was gentle. Affectionate not passionate. But my whole body warmed. I pivoted slightly on the bench and guided his hand from my shoulder to my breast, then wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his. Peter squeezed my breast gently while he kissed me.

A warm day had become a comfortably cool evening. I was dressed in a modest wrap-around, floral print summer dress with a comfortable bodice and a loose skirt that ended mid-calf. A bra, briefs, and a pair of sandals that buckled to my feet completed my casual summer outfit.

I broke our clinch and pivoted again, this time straddling the bench. I pulled Peter into a kiss again but didn't embrace him. Instead, I opened the dress and slid it off my shoulders onto my arms.

I saw real hunger and desire in Peter's gaze when he looked at my now mostly exposed body. Peter pivoted and straddled the bench facing me. I leaned toward him again. His hands went to my ribs as our lips met again. While we kissed, he gently massaged my breasts. My hands explored his chest. I was pleased by the hard pectoral muscles I found.

Now breathing heavily, I broke our kiss again. When I started to unbutton Peter's shirt, he gently tried to move my bra to expose my breasts. I stopped unbuttoning his shirt and unfastened the clasp between the cups. Peter's breath caught and I heard him gulp. I felt my nipples stiffen and contract in the cool night air. I shrugged the straps off my shoulders and let the bra and dress slide completely off. Peter finished unbuttoning his shirt and slipped it off.

I lifted my legs and slid toward Peter, resting my legs on top of his thighs. I pulled myself tightly to him, relishing the feel of his warm, hard chest against my breasts. It was my turn to gulp when I felt the hard lump in his pants pressing against me. I instinctively ground myself against it. My desire and the tingling dampness inside me made me to tremble slightly.

I reached between us, still kissing Peter hungrily and unbuttoned his pants. The zipper stifled my progress, refusing to budge while Peter sat. I pulled his pants and boxers down after Peter stood and disengaged himself from the bench. He kicked off his running shoes, pants, and boxers. I reached out with both hands, cupped his sac gently and grasped the thick, hard shaft. Peter groaned softly when I gently rolled his testicles in one hand and softly slid my other hand along his length. His sac felt hot in my hand. The shaft, rigidly hard and warm. Peter gasped when I spread the slick fluid starting to drip from his cock around the crown.

I looked into Peter's eyes and sighed softly when he cupped my breasts again and trapped my nipples between his fingers. I squeezed the steely rod I held in my hand and tugged it up and down. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to feel that upright, unyieldingly hard staff slide into me.

Peter straddled the bench and sat again. I slid toward him and pulled myself onto his thighs. The head of Peter's cock pressed against my still panty-clad groin when I climbed onto his lap. I groaned loudly as the rubbery tip slid along my labia and passed over my clit when I rocked in his lap. Peter was breathing hard. But I was ready to beg him to push inside me, to fill my aching, wet emptiness.

But though my body was on fire, responsible, careful Sage somehow still overcame the wanton desire consuming me. I desperately wanted Peter's hard cock to fill the void inside me. Instead, I slid back and looked up at Peter. I asked breathily, almost begging, 'Please, tell me you have a condom in your wallet."

A crestfallen look on Peter's face was my answer. He wasn't about to disappoint me, though.

Peter pulled me to him again and kissed me hungrily. My back arched involuntarily when he reached between us and massaged my thigh gap with his fingers and palm. Peter held me, leaned forcefully into our kiss, pushed me backward and continued to rub his hand between my legs. I yielded as he leaned into me. I strained to stay upright until I could no longer resist lying back. The hand between my legs slid up my belly and behind my ribs to help support my weight before I fell backward. Peter gently laid me out on the bench.

He stood above me, still kissing me. His erection pressed against my still covered vagina. I started to break the kiss and say, "No, don't." But Peter broke the kiss first and moved down the bench slightly. I groaned when the pressure of his erection vanished as he kissed his way down my neck to my chest. I was relieved that Peter wasn't going to press matters, though I missed feeling his cock against my labia and clit. My back arched when he took a nipple between his lips and sucked. I gasped as both nipples tightened further. Into hard, round pebbles.

Peter sat on the bench and continued to lavish attention on my breasts, massaging the firm globes gently while alternating between them, softly sucking on my nipples. Capturing them with his teeth, nibbling gently before sucking on the distended nub again. I felt his stiff shaft against my groin occasionally, but he made no effort to push past the material covering me.