Six Years of Waiting

It shouldn't have been so perfect. If I honestly sit back and listen to the rational part of my mind speaking, I know it's borderline crazy. Well, not insane, but if my friends knew they'd probably think I had a screw loose somewhere. Several screws in fact, labeled 'Common Sense' and 'Being Realistic.'

We've known each other for so many years, felt such strong feelings, and yet have never met. I think back on those sunswept afternoons in my dorm room, watching the leaves blowing by through the picture window, the sounds of footsteps in the hallway and voices calling to each other on the sidewalk. I can't count the hours I spent on the computer, waiting breathlessly for you to log on.

It hurt, having my first serious boyfriend break up with me. I remember the words he used, so lightly, as if it were something he said everyday. "You're such a tease, to leave me all blue-balled. But I just don't think we're right for each other, you know? We'll always be friends, though." As he went on, I could read between the lines - in short, I wouldn't have sex with him so he was moving on. For some reason, the phrase 'I'm a virgin' didn't seem to explain it all. How could I with a straight face and not blushing, tell him that his kiss was the first one that sent sparks shooting through me, that woke a nameless desire to wrap my legs around him and work closer to that unrealized peak of pleasure?

In tears I returned to my dorm room, sat down at the computer, and when you logged on I poured my heart out to you. He had introduced us some months ago, you an old friend of his, me his latest interest being both attractive and interested in gaming. You were sympathetic and kind, listening well and trying to explain the mysteries of nineteen year-old guys to me. We sat up for hours after that, long past when the footsteps quieted in the hall outside my door, almost until the sun came up again. Instead of slaying monsters in a mythical land, we sat on a rock together, our characters, and chatted about anything, everything. By the time the sun rose I felt like we had been friends for years. "For some reason, I trust you," you typed.

It took a few weeks, but I finally felt I was past the ex. You stood by me in support, in so much as someone can in text. Without ever having heard your voice, I felt like you were wrapping strong arms around me to comfort, as real as any of my many real life friends.

How many months, years, after that did I beg and plead for you to come see me? We grew closer as time went on, chatting nonstop whenever we could, staying up all weekend just to spend time together. If I took a step back, it seemed crazy to feel such a connection to someone three thousand miles away. Yet, I couldn't deny the warmth that kindled in my heart when you jokingly said we'd be perfect for each other, or how my heart skipped a beat and my breath stilled when late one night you wrote, "You are my soul mate, or close to it, but you live so far away." I remember how thrilled I was at our first phone conversation, your Southern drawl gentle and pleasing to the ear, your laughter deep and masculine.

If I'd had the money I would have bought you a plane ticket, though common sense still reminded me that I didn't know you at all. So many cases splashed across the news of young women abducted, assaulted, murdered, for letting their guard down and meeting someone they knew from online. This was different though. I've always trusted my instincts to steer me right, and all of them screamed at me to find some way, any way, to be in your arms.

Sometimes you disappeared for weeks, unable to handle the pain of separation, or so you said when you would surface again. I had no choice but to wait, achingly, for you to call or log on again. School kept me busy, but it didn't seem half as important as knowing when you were coming back. Sometimes I laid awake at night, crying silently so my roommate wouldn't hear, vowing to move on past this intangible love to something more real.

You dealt with a handful of guys I dated in moments of weakness, trying to drown the dream of being with you. The relationships never lasted long, perhaps a month at most, when I realized these guys didn't satisfy the soul-deep need to have someone understand me without judging. You even accepted when I made a mistake one night, believing someone's coaxing words of love, and lost the virginity I'd always wanted to save as a prize for true love. In the end, I always wanted to come back to you, which is strange thought when I'd never laid eyes on you, only pictures.

Ahh, the pictures. Your piercing blue eyes and hair like sun-kissed brown silk. I wanted to run my hands through it, leave it the way it showed all touseled over your forehead. The mischief in your eyes matched the voice, laughter dancing in them, and I longed to lock my gaze with yours for real.

In spite of the depth of our feelings, we never spoke of sex in more than a joking manner. Never more than silly innuendo or risque/obscene comments traded in chat. I remember you telling me late one night, tipsy from drinking with your brother, how if I was there just arms' length away that you wouldn't want to control yourself, that you would be all over me in an instant. Despite my usual regard for such statements from others, I laughed sadly to my computer screen and typed only, "I wish."

It's been six years since I 'met' you through that ex-boyfriend. Six years of hoping, wishing, but never quite believing you were real, that I would ever be able to reach out and touch you.

It's been two weeks since you casually mentioned over the phone that you had the money for a plane ticket...and you'd be here at my door, ready or not.

It's been three frantic days of cleaning my apartment, doing laundry, wanting everything to be just so. In the midst of vaccuuming and dusting, I realized that you are here to see me, and you're not going to check if there's fingerprints on the countertop or crumbs on the stove.

I've been awake since eight this morning, a beautiful sunny Saturday. I showered, shaved my legs, even bothered to use a hairdryer and curling iron. I spent an hour obsessing over applying eyeliner just so, then laughing almost hysterically when it dawns on me that, like the apartment, you're not going to inspect me for minute flaws.

I'm trying to distract myself on the couch with a book while stealing nervous glances at the clock every two minutes or so. There is a knock on the door and my heart leaps to my throat. I feel numb while walking to the door, not daring to breathe. I watch in a detached fashing while my hand moves to unlock the deadbolt and turn the knob.

Your blue eyes are full of nervous anticipation, and I see you're wearing the same impossible-to-suppress grin that I am. I hear a thud as your carryon bag hits the ground, and then I'm in your arms, face pressed against your collarbone, arms wrapped so tight I can scarcely breathe. I can smell your cologne, a dimension I've never known before, feel the muscles in your arms quiver slightly with the strength of our embrace.

We don't speak for a good minute, just stand there in the doorway holding each other like Armageddon has come and we're the last man and woman alive on the Earth. At last you let go just a little, lean back, and look down at me.

"You're real," I giggle, trying to think of something clever to say.

"Yes, sweets," and I blush a little at the nickname I've only heard over the phone, "I'm real."

"Well," my voice shakes only a little, "grab your bag and come in."

Before I can say anything else to break the moment, you raise your hand to my cheek and touch my face as though I were spun glass, fragile, and ready to shatter at too harsh a touch. I breathe in slowly, afraid that I'll ruin things if I open my mouth again. Before I can breathe out, your lips are on mine, warm and soft and real. I feel your nose bump against mine for just a moment, and remember our joking comments about how my Asian nose won't get in the way of yours if we ever kissed. I can't stop my lips from curving upwards at that thought, and I can feel your smile too.

************

It's two in the morning now, lying here by your side in my twin sized bed. Funny, I'd always thought it was annoying to try and fit two people on a mattress so small I can stretch out my arms and feel air with both hands.

You are just as perfect in slumber as I'd dreamed on countless nights. Earlier though, I think with a self-conscious blush, you were perfect in other ways.

I'd always wondered what it would be like to make love with someone who loved me for real. While an abstracted corner of my mind reminded me that it wasn't *proper* to be doing such things on the first date, after this many years I don't know if this quite counts as a first date. Perhaps a long-delayed meeting of bodies?

Your hands were gentle but hungry, your mouth passionate against my body. I've always gotten aroused slowly, but tonight I felt like I was on fire from the inside. The feel of your mouth on my breast or your fingers touching my wetness made me hotter for you than ever before. What had started out as a sensual cuddling session on the bed jumped up several degrees when I felt your cock stir against my hip through the fabric of your jeans. I meant to make a joke of it, to laugh it off nervously, but you caught my hand and brought it to your groin. The heat through the fabric was impossible to mistake, as was the way you closed your eyes and moaned quietly when I squeezed that bulge.

Soon our clothes were everywhere on the floor, skin sliding against skin, your hands buried in my hair. I meant to draw things out and tease this first time, but seeing all seven inches of you swollen and throbbing derailed my plans immediately. I wanted to feel you inside of me, make the connection we've been dancing around for years.

It hurt a little when you eased inside my dripped wet pussy, but you were as gentle as you could be. Truth told, I didn't mind the ache that came with stretching me open for you. I was focused on your forehead pressed against mine, eyes locked, pupils dilated in you gorgeous blue eyes. I could smell your arousal, feel the throb of your pulse in the tip of your cock as it slid slowly inside.

This was nothing like the cheap porno I'd seen over the years, bore no resemblance to the steamy, silly romance novels my friends and I secretly read back in high school. Everything about tonight was...intense...in a way I'd never known before.

When you were buried to the balls in my pussy, I wrapped my legs around your hips, loving the way your muscles made a smooth V down towards your cock. The first thrust sent me towards the hungry yearning I'd felt with other guys. Your lips met mine now urgently, our tongues dancing together in a mimicry of the actions going on further down our bodies. The sound of your breath hitching in your throat as you fucked me sweetly filled my consciousness, the little moans and cries of pleasure seeming to pulse in my clit.

You freed an arm from around me and slid your hand over my body, playing with my nipples before going lower. I almost screamed when you dipped a finger between my pussy lips, rubbing the wetness around and all over my clit. I'd touched myself before - and often - but having someone else massaging that nub of pleasure was ecstasy.

It seemed to go on forever, the rocking and thrusting, feeling your cock stretch my pussy wide open, me crying out for more. When I came, I almost didn't realize what was happening, feeling it start deep inside and bursting all over my body. Your cock seemed even bigger as I rode those waves of pleasure, and you swallowed my moans with your mouth, hand closing tighter on my hips. I felt you cum deep inside of me even as your eyes rolled back and I held you close, waves of my orgasm still tingling in my toes.

We lay there spent for a few minutes before I roused enough to get a towel and clean us off. In your arms I was content as never before, completely satisfied in body as well as heart.

I thought you might have drifted off to sleep, so even was your breathing. But I heard a gentle, Southern-laced voice chuckle quietly in my ear. "I love you, sweets."

"I love you too."

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

I found I was grinning in the moonlit darkness. "Oh yes, I did. In fact, I have only one complaint." He sat up, worried I think, and I couldn't help but say, "Why did you have to wait six years to try this with me?"