Inside Information Pt. 02 (Original)

"Never; never," I gasped and huffed. My own orgasm was coming on fast, and I pounded her even faster.

"Yes! Yes! OGOD! OHYESOHYES — AHHHHHH!!!"

Her climax came over her with the ferocity of a summer monsoon, forcing her pussy to clamp down hard on my thrusting cock; I kept pounding into her; my rage demanded more; so I continued thrusting, pushing her further over the top, making her come yet again, with even more intensity.

Her molten liquid squelched around my insistent shaft until finally my own orgasm came screaming out of me. I came harder than before. It was so powerful that I fought to keep from blacking out; I held on to Claire for dear life, in more ways than one.

Several minutes later, Claire brought me out of my delicious stupor by raining ravenous kisses all over my face, and crying out my name passionately, "Oh, Kevin, Kevin, Kevin."

"Oh, Missy."

If Claire understood my mumbled moan that wonderful summer afternoon, she never let on; then or any other time we made love. I quickly learned how to contain my lust-fueled anger, though I never was able to get rid of it completely. I didn't want to. To get rid of it completely was to let go of Missy completely.

I would never give up loving Missy. The taste of her sweet lips against mine when we shared that incredibly passionate kiss was forever seared into my memory. Above all else, that single kiss proved Missy had feelings for me. I don't care what else Missy said or did; there was no way she could kiss me so passionately like that if she didn't care for me. Whether she knew it or not; whether she admitted it or not, that one perfect kiss told me that Missy O'Bannon cared very deeply for me, and I was never going to let go. That fact was the spark that kept my fiery passion for her burning for all these years.

I quickly grew to care very deeply for Claire, and I cherished every intimate moment we spent together. But every time I went down on Claire, or she devoured my cock, or we fucked with wild abandon, there was always a little part of me that yearned desperately for Missy . . .

* * *

I have always been grateful to Claire for teaching me there was life without Missy and for teaching me how to make love to a woman. But one thing I learned for myself was that you don't ditch your dreams just because they didn't come true right away. Claire saved me. She made Missy's leaving bearable, and for that I will always love her. But no matter how deeply I cared for Claire and still do, my heart has always belonged to Missy.

Every time I went down on Claire, or she devoured my cock, or we fucked with wild abandon, there was always a little part of me that yearned desperately for Missy . . .

I never gave up loving Missy. The taste of her sweet lips against mine when we shared that incredibly passionate kiss was forever seared into my memory. Above all else, that single kiss proved Missy had feelings for me. I don't care what else Missy said or did; there was no way she could kiss me like that if she didn't care for me. Whether she knew it or not; whether she admitted it or not, that one perfect kiss told me that Missy O'Bannon cared very deeply for me, and I was never going to let that go. That fact was the spark that kept my fiery passion for her burning for all these years.

Claire and I stayed together all the way through high school and after graduation until the following autumn when Claire left town for her Ivy League college. She offered to stay and go to college with me, but there was no way I could allow her to throw away her life for me. No matter how much I cared for Claire, and no matter how much I wanted her to remain with me, she was too smart and too talented to pass up such a great education at such a prestigious school. I always look back fondly on those fifteen sex-filled months with Claire. She meant a lot to me then, and she still does. We parted as lovers, and we remain friends to this day.

When Claire went away to college, there was absolutely no reason for me to stick around town. Everyone I loved had left. My father got a big promotion and was gone more than ever. I tried a semester at the local community college, but with Claire not with me to keep my mind occupied and focused, my thoughts always turned to Missy. Where was she? Did she ever think about me? Did she miss me? Would I ever see her again? Does she know I still love her? Does she care?

Everything about this town and my life reminded me of Missy. So, when that first semester ended, I sold back my books, joined the Navy and caught the first ship out of town.

* * *

Mrs. O and I kept in touch for those first two years. We exchanged Christmas cards, birthday cards, and she even sent me a very elegant graduation card telling me how proud she was of me. In it, Mrs. O enclosed Missy's senior portrait.

I almost didn't recognize her. Missy's beautiful face was buried beneath a mask of bleak seriousness. Her soft lips were pressed into a hard, unforgiving line, and her brown eyes were narrowed and lackluster. She had died her luxurious auburn hair black and cut it into a short, unflattering bob cut that made her look like a stranger to me. Or maybe that was all wishful thinking on my part.

Even though that picture doesn't show Missy's natural beauty, I've carried it in my wallet ever since; in fact, I'm looking at it now as I type this.

I'd written countless letters to Missy, pouring out my soul to her and begging her to write me back. Missy never once replied.

About a year after I joined the Navy, I received a letter from Mrs. O. I didn't know it then, but it was the last letter I would ever receive from her. Inside the envelope was another envelope, and it had a yellow Post-It note stuck to the front of it. Mrs. O had written, "I found this when I was cleaning out Missy's old room. I thought you should have it."

The second envelope was made from heavy weight, crème colored paper, and it had my address back home printed on it in formal green ink. The names on the return address label were unfamiliar: a Mr. & Mrs. Robert Hampton, with a Los Angeles address. I opened the second envelope and found a wedding announcement. When I read the first three lines, my heart turned to ice, and I couldn't read any more.

"Mr. & Mrs. Thomas O'Bannon are pleased to announce the uniting in Holy Matrimony of their daughter, Melissa Rochelle O'Bannon . . . "

Inside the invitation was a folded square of notebook paper. I recognized the distinctive handwriting. It was a note from Missy. It consisted of exactly fifty-four words, and it was dated two years to the day when Missy told me our kiss meant nothing to her. I've read that letter so many times that I easily memorized it.

*

Dear Kevin,

I have never forgiven myself for being so mean to you. I wish I were as strong as you, then I could have told you the truth in the first place. Maybe things would have turned out differently. You have always been in my heart, and you always will.

Love,

Missy Hampton

*

I wrote Missy several lengthy, heartfelt letters, telling her that I forgave her, telling her that I never stopped loving her, but every letter came back to me stamped, Moved; No Forwarding Address.

Even the letters I wrote to Mrs. O were sent back, and someone had written on the outside of the envelopes; "No such person at this address."

So there I was, seven months in to an eight-month cruise around the Western Pacific Ocean, with no way to contact Missy or her mother. The frustration nearly killed me. When that West Pac tour was up, I was transferred to Naples, Italy for two years.

By the time I left the Navy and finally moved back home, more than six years had past. I ran in to Claire once, among other people, but I never saw Missy O'Bannon again . . .