Remembering Anita

My name is Jeremy. The year is 1980, the place is somewhere in southeastern Los Angeles county, California. I was a young man with a good head on my shoulders but not much formal education. The ladies called me easy on the eyes. I had a handsome, well-proportioned body with a good set of muscles and an eight-inch cock that I knew how to use rather better than the average 1980's guy of my age. I was two months shy of my twenty-first birthday, with a new job as an apprentice machinist at a factory that had about ninety employees.

Her name was Anita, the foreman of the assembly line. She was a little over twenty years older than me, overweight, with deep wrinkles on her face. No one would call her beautiful now, though she had been drop-dead gorgeous when she was my age. She had lived a hard life that left its marks on her body and her soul. Her personality was brassy, cynical and a bit abrasive, even combative if somebody messed with her. But that was the surface picture, the face she showed a world she didn't trust that had been cruel to her. The face she showed to the people she could trust was rather different: she was friendly, cautiously optimistic, cheerful, and had a genuine heart of gold. She also had a physical saving grace: a set of nicely-shaped 46DD's. Yeah, you read the numbers right, that's huge even on a fat chick.

No one this side of God would have predicted that we'd even hook up, much less that she was destined to be the love of my life, and to give me sex that far exceeded my most fevered adolescent fantasies in both quality and quantity. This is the story of how that destiny came to pass.

Day one at the new job. The foreman of the machine shop was showing me places I need to know about like the stock room, the tool room, the first aid room, and of course the lunch room. He's introducing me to my coworkers, paying special attention to important people like the tool and die maker and the foremen of shipping, quality control, and the assembly line. As it happened, I met Anita last, just before morning break. Everyone I had met so far had been fairly friendly. It was that kind of company. But Anita was gruff and her greeting greeting very proforma and insincere, her natural reaction to strangers.

Just then the whistle for break went off. I told Anita I was going to the roach coach for a snack and asked her if she would like anything. She brightened a bit and asked for a bear claw. I went out to the food truck and got my morning coffee and a small plate of nachos and a bear claw for Anita. I also got her a coffee though she hadn't asked for it. Most people at the factory drank coffee, and I thought she might like one, and if not I could drink two easily enough.

I saw her sitting at a table in the lunch room, so I brought her her bear claw and coffee, and some sugar and creamer packets so she could fix up her coffee however she liked. She reached into a pocket to get some change to pay me back, but I told her "it's on me."

She gave me a big smile and a warm "thanks" and invited me to sit with her. I sat down and she asked how I liked the new job and we chatted through break. I had discovered that a little kindness went a long way with Anita. At the time I just filed it in my brain as a useful fact--it never hurts to have a good rapport with a boss, even one in a different department.

The next couple of months were mostly devoted to learning the job, but I made some friends and had some casual hook ups with some good-looking young ladies on the assembly line. This was the same pattern as in high school, no problem getting pussy, but it never lead to anything lasting. Anita watched my antics with that ladies with wry amusement, but I sometimes thought I saw her with a wistful look on her face, but I was never sure, and I didn't ask.

Anita and I often found ourselves at the same table at breaks and lunch, usually with other friends, sometimes one-on-one, often after one of us invited the other to join them. We talked quite a bit and the one-on-ones especially got pretty personal. It was obvious that Anita and I were becoming good friends.

She shared that she had been married when she was my age to what she thought was a nice guy who was really a cheating bastard who fancied himself to be a player. She discovered this when he brought home a particularly virulent strain of gonorrhea which ravaged her reproductive system and left her sterile. She'd kicked him to the curb, then got a great divorce lawyer who took him for every cent the bastard had ever seen. It wouldn't have been enough money were it twenty times as much, but it left Anita in decent financial shape. She'd gotten pretty wild after the divorce. There were many different men, none as bad as her ex but none of them really right for her, either. She'd pretty much given up, saying "I haven't had a dick that wasn't made of plastic in over five years" with a look of sadness and a tiny tear in the corner of her eye.

For a fleeting moment, I thought of offering her mine, but I said to myself "no way in hell, she's way too old for me and not pretty enough." Famous last words.

For my part, I expressed satisfaction with the parade of pussy I was getting, but frustration and sadness at my inability to find love. I wanted someone to make love to, not just fuck.

Anita reassured me, "God will bring you someone wonderful when least expect it." Her words proved to be prophetic, though in a way neither of us could imagine at the time.

The last Thursday of my second month on the job was the day before my birthday. Anita sat down at my lunch table and said, "Jeremy, there's a little beer bar a couple of blocks from here. If you'd like, we'll have a little party for you, and you can have your first legal drink." Anita and everybody else knew that I'd had plenty of illegal drinks--many of them were shared with my friends at the factory. I'd also smoked a lot of pot--also often with factory friends.

The party idea sounded like a lot of fun, so I said "sure, I'd love to." I had never been there, but I knew where the bar was. I had often seen coworkers going there after work.

Friday at end-of-shift, Anita said "happy birthday, Jeremy. We'll meet you at the bar." I drove over and when I walked in, Anita motioned me over to a table that had several small gifts and a birthday cake. Pancho the inspector had taken off work a half hour early and set everything up.

When everybody was there (twelve of us altogether), they introduced me to the bartender who they were on friendly terms with. He said "happy twenty-first birthday, Jeremy. Your beer is on the house tonight." and put a big mug of beer in my hand.

I made the sign of the cross in the air with the mug saying "in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost", draining the mug in a single huge gulp, burping loudly and saying"amen." This performance evoked loud cheers and laughter from the gang.

Pancho joked, "Jeremy, you fucked that up, you're supposed to invoke the Trinity in Spanish and belch after the amen." He grabbed a beer and proceeded to demonstrate correct procedure.

After drinking beer for a couple of hours, everybody sang Happy Birthday, we cut the cake and I opened my presents. The gift were inexpensive but nice and there were some gag gifts that were pretty funny. But I noticed there was nothing from Anita. I found that intensely disappointing. So disappointing that I was surprised by the strength of my reaction.

Anita noticed the look on my face and quickly walked over to me. She said "don't worry, Jeremy, I have two presents for you, it just wasn't convenient to put them on the table." She pressed two fat joints into my hand, saying "I saved up my pennies and bought you some of the good stuff. They're ' Maui Wowie. Thinking she was counting each joint as a separate gift, I thanked her warmly for two wonderful gifts.

But Anita said, "no, no, the joints are your first gift, here is your second." She grabbed me, pressed those glorious boobs against my chest, and gave a big wet kiss on the lips. She stuck her tongue deep in my mouth and we engaged in some heavy-duty tongue-wrestling. I soon had a massive hard on. When it poked her in the thigh her eyes lit up.

If it had been honest with myself, my lips would would have said the same thing as my cock: "I need to fuck you right now." I wasn't ready for that. But I wasn't enough of a fool to break away, either. So we kept on kissing. I don't know how long it went on, time just froze for me. When we finally stopped after numerous cheers and instructions to get a room, I told Anita "this is a lot better than the first gift, and that takes a whole fuckin' lot of work. That's the best kiss I've ever had by a country mile, and I've had damned fine."

Anita blushed a bit and stammered "thanks". She had gone further than she'd planned to, and felt unsettled. She got quiet for the rest of the evening.

The party broke up about ten. Anita was the first to leave. I drove home to my small apartment I couldn't get what happened with Anita out of my mind, and my dick was so hard it was actually painful. I had half a mind to pull the car over to the side of the road and masturbate, but was worried about what would happen if the cops caught me. They patrolled the area quite frequently. So a managed to get home in one piece, ran in the bedroom, stripped, and grabbed my cock. I needed to cum so bad that it was only about twenty seconds before I shot a huge load all over the bedroom floor, involuntarily crying out "Anita!" as I came.

After I cleaned up the mess, I retrieved one of the joints from my wallet where I'd stashed them and sparked it up, figuring it would help me relax to smoke some fine weed. I lay down on my bed to think things over. I was feeling very conflicted. It was obvious how bad I wanted Anita, but I didn't want to want her, she was not young enough, not pretty enough, .... Actually, those reasons were bullshit, but I wasn't ready to see that yet.

Some free advice. Don't ever let your head get you to a place like I was it in. If you want something really bad, whether person, object or experience, ask yourself one question and answer it with rigorous honesty: would having it cause me or someone I love serious harm? If the answer is yes, you've gotta grab that desire by the roots, rip it out of your heart no matter how bad it hurts, throw it on the ground and stomp on it until it's dead. But if the answer is no, go for it with all you've got--every particle of heart, mind, soul and strength God gave you, and beg, borrow or steal some more if you have to. You will never forgive yourself in this world or the next if you don't.

Would I were able to take my own advice-: if I had, Anita and I would be making passionate love that very minute. But I was alone lying naked on my bed while crazy-making thoughts chased each other around in my head. Now and then a memory of our kiss would force its way into my mind. Just thinking about the feel of her tongue in my mouth and her divine tits pressed against my chest soon had my dick imitating a railroad spike once again.

I realized that I needed to cum some more. So I put the mental debate on hold and let the memories of Anita flood my mind without restraint. Whatever did or didn't happen in reality, there would be no limits on how intense it got with her in my private fantasies.

I knew even before I touched my cock that that I was going to cum screaming her name. I also knew that there in nothing whatsoever I wanted more than an orgasm with her name on it. Tonight I was going to enjoy myself. I'd figure things out tomorrow.

I grabbed my dick and started some light, slow strokes from base to tip. I wanted to spend some time enjoying the journey before getting to the destination. Of course, in my fantasy it was Anita gently stroking my cock with her strong hands. Then I tightened my grip and stated stroking a bit faster. Now I fantasized her taking me in her mouth and giving me a fantastic blow job and I called out "please don't stop, you suck it so fine. You are so good to me!".

After a few minutes of this, I couldn't take it any more and started stroking as fast as I could, and I mentally shoved my rod full length into her twat, and it called out louder "O baby, I'm going to flood your pussy with my cum! I'm going to give it all to you right now!" as as long ropes of cum exploded from my dick, I screamed her name so loud the neighbors must have heard me. My mind just barely stopped my mouth from adding "I love you." My body shook for two solid minutes, then I fell into a peaceful dreamless sleep almost immediately.

When I woke the next morning I saw the results of my last explosion: this load I shot made the one when I first got home look tiny by comparison. Also my balls felt the most empty and my dick the most satisfied they had since puberty. The last orgasm was my lifetime best, hands down, no contest.

I had a huge cleanup to do, so it got the cleaning supplies and started working. I stripped the bed and tossed the cum soaked sheets and blankets into the clothes hamper. Then I washed the cum stains off the floor and the walls and a couple off the fuckin' ceiling. I needed a shower, too. My thighs, abdomen and pubes had a thick coating of dried cum. I showered, got dressed, and made myself breakfast.

After eating, I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat down for a long think. The mental debate I put on hold the night before started up again, and the thoughts were chasing each other around in my head. I put a stop to that and tried to consider things in a more disciplined fashion. Anita was not not young enough, not pretty enough, .... That hadn't changed and wasn't going to. But Anita and I were becoming increasingly close friends who had an obviously strong physical attraction to each other. What decided the issue was my last orgasm. My God, Anita had made me cum better by proxy than any other woman had with her actual pussy and the margin wasn't close,and I'd had quite a bit of fine pussy. What in God's name could she do for me with her actual pussy, with an assist from those marvelous boobs?

Then I heard a voice in my head (God? Inner Self? Flying Spaghetti Monster?) with a rewrite of the famous John F. Kennedy quote: "Ask not what Anita can do for you, ask what you can do for Anita."

I remembered who intensely the kiss had pleased her and how much joy her pleasure gave me. I realized how much I wanted to continue to please her.

My resistance melted into nothingness, and my mind was made up. I said it loud and said it proud: "I want Anita more than I've ever wanted anyone or anything, and I want to want her. And as God is my witness, I will have her..."

"... if she will have me." Those last five word pulled me up short, and hurt so bad I burst into tears. At the end of my birthday party, Anita was obviously having serious second thoughts. What if she didn't want me, or worse didn't want to want me?

Something else to ponder. I got another cup of coffee. I went to bed that night without touching my cock. This was rather unusual: unless I was sick, I liked to cum every day, and if some hottie didn't take care of me, I'd take care of myself. But I was so damned heartsick.

It was Sunday evening before I had some clarity about how to handle it. I very much wanted to continue being Anita's friend even if I could never be her lover, but if she did want me for her lover, my answer would be the most enthusiastic "YES!!!" in the history of the universe. I would be friendly and extra kind to her, and slowly let her know my feelings over time without putting any pressure on her. She probably wouldn't want me Monday, but that could change over time. If not, we still could become lifelong friends.

That clarity brought me peace, and I had a most enjoyable session masturbating while fantasizing about Anita. I didn't know what would happen Monday, but I found myself looking forward to it. I slept well, and had a very sweet, tender dream about the sweet lady I wanted to give my love to. I woke up realizing that I couldn't deny her anything, I couldn't even want to deny her anything. If it were her will, that would include every drop of my love and every drop of my cum as long as we both drew breath. And I prayed to God that would be her will.

When I got to work I greeted Anita warmly, but her return greeting was off. She just didn't sound quite right. Not cold. She was never once cold to me from the first time I brought her coffee until the day they laid her in the ground stone cold dead many years later. But she was distant, as if something were pulling her away from me. It had to be those goddamned second thoughts.

I didn't see her at morning break or lunch, I think she was avoiding me. At afternoon break I searched the factory until I found her. Break had ended three minutes ago, but I didn't give a flying fuck. I said to her, "Anita, we need to talk. Something is wrong. Something is hurting you, and I'm pretty sure that something has my name on it. Can we get together and talk after work? This is my fault, and it's my duty to help you find a way to make the hurt stop hurting. You are my best friend and I can't bear to see you in pain."

She said, "Thank you for your kindness, Jeremy. I am in pain, but it's my own damn fault, not yours in any way. Meet me at my van after work and I'll tell you about it."

I went out to Anita's van and found her sitting on the driver's seat. She motioned for me to get in, so I got in and sat down on the passenger seat. Anita said "Is it OK if I move that van to a more private part of the parking lot? What I need to say to you is going to be hard enough without worrying about being overheard."

I said of course, anything she wanted, and mentioned the joint in my wallet, and said that sharing it might help. Her little smile told me that I had a good idea. She drove the van to a more secluded location and I sparked up the joint.

After we'd passed the joint back and forth a few times, she relaxed enough to unburden her mind. , "First off, Jeremy, I'm sorry for avoiding you today, that was unkind and you've never done a single solitary thing to me to deserve it. But I've been feeling ashamed of myself. That doesn't happen often, and I really suck at dealing with it. I really crossed the line at your birthday party, and I'm very sorry I did. I planned to kiss you, but the tongue-wrestling wasn't part of the plan. I figured I give everyone a few laughs at the old woman kissing the hot young stud, and if I enjoyed the feel of your hot young body for a minute, who would it hurt?"

She continued," but its been too damn long since I've had a man, so the moment my tits hit your chest, I got so turned on that I started thinking with my cunt instead of my brain. And when I felt your hard cock I was in such a frenzy that I wanted your to rip my clothes off and take me in front of God and everybody. I have to confess I'd still love to fuck you. But you are my best friend, the best friend I've ever had, and I want the very best for you, and that ain't me. You need beautiful young woman to love you and have your babies. I could only give you one out of four, and that isn't good enough. I had no right to act the way I did. Can you ever forgive me? I'd rather take a bullet than lose your your friendship."

After a couple more puffs on the joint to steady my own nerves, I answered, "Anita, I don't ever want to lose your friendship. And I swear to God I'd blow my own brains out with a fuckin' AK-47 before I''d knowingly hurt you. And if I unknowingly hurt you I'll move heaven and earth to make it right. God burn me in hell for eternity four times over if I lie."

Anita briefly interrupted with "the Lord do so to me and more also."

I continued, "I have been your friend since the day we met, and I value that friendship beyond measure. If it doesn't feel right to you for sex to part of that, it won't be. We'll lock that door and throw away the key. But if your feeling ever change so that you feel right about loving me, swear to God I'll bash that door into splinters in a New York minute. Let's have lunch together tomorrow and be friends again."