Spanish Lessons Pt. 01

SPANISH LESSONS, Part 1

A few words from the author:

Yes, it is in the Loving Wives category, but fair warning, there is no BTB, and no willing cuckolds. Please stop now, and save your hate mail if you're not interested in that kind of story.

Apologies in advance for insensitive, derogatory slang. It is used solely for the purposes of the story. Also I will admit that I took the easy way out and did not try to use any Spanish in this story, with a few minor exceptions. I have finished a draft of Part 2, which I hope to post soon.

I do appreciate constructive comments. If you think it stinks, that's fine. But please don't be rude. Tell me WHY it stinks, so I can fix it.

This is the first thing I have ever posted to Literotica, and it has been submitted sans editor. I am currently taking applications :)

Any characters involved in extra-curricular activities (actual or implied) are over 18.

Hope you enjoy it.

**********

I came down to Austin because I had to get away from my step-father. His idea of bonding was to throw empties at me while calling me 'fag,' because I just wanted to play my music and do my best in school. If that's the definition of 'fag,' then sign me up. I told my friend Josh, who IS gay, and he laughed.

"Brendan," he said, cocking his head at me. "You're not cool enough to be gay." He was right.

So my home life really sucked. I couldn't have Josh over because he was gay. I couldn't have Floyd over because he was black. I refused to have Carrie over because my step-dad perved on her. The only one of my friends that he liked was Jimmy, and Jimmy... well, there was something a little off about that kid.

**********

Mom. Even now, I can hear her, and she'd be mad at me for not telling the whole story.

My real dad died when I was six. The doctor said it was an aneurism, and he just collapsed at work. I remember him as being a happy person, but I don't have a lot of specific memories. I think he worked a lot. I do remember that he gave me a toy guitar when I was about four, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. Apparently, I played it all the time, driving them both nuts. It was on my 8^th birthday that my mom finally did give a real one to me... it was a little three-quarter size Yamaha, and I loved it. I remember giving her a huge hug, and she had tears in her eyes as she told me that my dad would have loved to see me with it.

When he died, of course mom was devastated, but dad had planned ahead, so we were ok, at least financially, while she worked through her grief. Prior to his death, she had worked as a receptionist at a local realtor, and after, she got her realtor's license. She enjoyed it, and was pretty good at it, so we were able to stay in the house. Life went on, just the two of us.

I don't know where she met Rodney (call me 'Rod') Canton. I had just turned 12, when she sat me down and asked me how I felt about her going out on a date. It had just been us for 6 years, and of course I hated the idea. Mom just let me vent for a while, then softly explained that she would never stop loving my dad, but she was lonely, and so on. I didn't want to hear it, but I also hated that I'd made her sad with my petulance. So I pretended that I was okay with it.

She and Rodney were married within the year.

He wasn't a bad guy, at least at first, but he and I just never clicked. I'm sure Mom was hoping that I'd look to him as a father figure, and maybe if I'd been younger when she remarried, that could have happened.

He tried, I guess, but I really didn't. I knew it upset my mother, but I just... felt like he had taken something from me. And then, she really was taken. She was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 14, and she died the day before I turned 15. To this day, birthdays are hard for me.

Anyway, before she died, she made me promise that I would study hard, and that I wouldn't let her down. I wasn't about to. I had a 4.0 GPA.

I think Rodney did love my mother, because he took it hard as well. But with me... now that she was gone... he quit trying. For the next three years, he slowly devolved into the fine specimen who slouched in his recliner and made fun of me.

**********

My senior year of high school, I was about 5'8", 150 pounds, with acne, a head of unruly dark brown hair, and blue eyes that I hid behind some truly awful glasses. I was a typical band geek, except my band rehearsed in my friend Carrie's garage, not on the football field. Her mom was cool, and I got along with her pretty well. She was the closest thing I had to a mom now, anyway. I think Carrie realized, but she was cool about it too.

I guess we were birds of a feather, the four of us. I played guitar. Carrie Fischer was our lead singer and she played keyboards. Jimmy Rogers played bass, and Floyd Jackson played drums. Josh liked to act like he was our manager, and we let him. He was hilarious, talking about the great gigs we were going to be playing, just as soon as whatever the latest mysterious deal he was working on came through.

Carrie was probably my best friend, and Josh ran a close second. It was usually me and Carrie, but the three of us hung out a lot too, when we weren't murdering some cover song in her garage. We were terrible, let's face it. We never did get any gigs. But we had fun.

Carrie was easily as tall as me, but weighed maybe 10 pounds more than I did. She wasn't quite as acne-riddled as I was, and she had wavy auburn hair, which was usually in a severe ponytail, and usually a day overdue for washing. She just couldn't be bothered. I didn't care; to my teenage eyes, she was beautiful, and I think I'd been in love with her forever. Also, I loved her voice. If any of the rest of us could play worth a damn, her vocals might have actually taken us somewhere. I really wanted to impress her, so I tried really hard at my guitar. Thank goodness for YouTube, because dear old step-dad sure wasn't springing for lessons.

I think I got kinda ok at it... good enough to be allowed to minor in music when I got my academic scholarship to UT. That's the University of Texas in Austin. Wow, Austin was a LOT different than our small town outside of Rochester. We were lucky to live right on the edge of a pretty good school district. Otherwise, I might still be up there shoveling snow and dodging beer cans.

**********

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

About halfway through our senior year, I finally worked up the nerve (with a lot of coaching from Josh) to ask Carrie on a date. I stuttered through most of it, and could barely look at her, but she said, "Ok Brendan, I'd like that."

I was already responding to the expected rejection, so when my idiot brain finally processed what she'd said, I kinda went, "Huh?" A silver-tongued devil, that's me.

She laughed and said, "I said I'd go with you, doofus. What, where, and when?"

I blinked at her. "Ummm... Maye hit Fireside?" It was local burger place. "Then ice skating? Friday? 6:00?"

"Are you asking or telling me, you goober?"

I blinked again.

"Snap out of it, Brendan, it's me. Carrie. We've been friends since the 5^th grade? Hello?"

Finally I shook my head. "Yeah. Right, sorry. That whole conversation went a lot different in my head."

"I'll bet," she said, dryly.

**********

I didn't have a car, so she drove. She picked me up in her mom's minivan. After burgers at the Fireside, we headed toward Mendon Park, thinking we could get in some skate time on Hundred Acre Pond. As we drove, Carrie finally asked me, "So what made you decide to ask me out, Bren? I mean, we already spend most of our time together."

"Yeah, I know, Carrie. You're my best friend. I think maybe I would have asked you out sooner, if you weren't. My friend I mean."

She glanced at me, then moved her eyes back to the road.

"I'm just gonna lay it out there, ok?"

She nodded.

"I don't think I ever told you before, but I always thought you were pretty, Carrie, even before I knew that girls were different. But it's more than that. You're smart, we get along great, and I like being around you. And when mom died, well, it was like you became my surrogate family. So... not that I thought of you as my sister or anything, coz that would be weird, but..."

Carrie reached over and held my hand. "Bren. You're babbling."

I gulped, and continued. "Right. Sorry. Well, you know what my step-dad is like now, and I think I finally realized at the beginning of senior year, that I have to do something about it."

I stopped talking as we pulled into the park. Carrie shut off the engine, and turned in her seat to better look at me. I did the same.

"Carrie, I don't know what's going to happen. I'm probably not going to college, unless a miracle happens. You're the only good thing in my life." I took a deep breath and let it slowly sigh out of me. "I always want to be your friend. But... I realized that when we're together, I'm happy. And when you're not around, I wish you were. So I dunno, I guess I hoped that maybe we could be more? Than friends, I mean." I looked at her, almost pleading with her to understand.

She looked at me for a while. Finally, she shook her head, and quirked the corner of one lip. "What am I gonna do with you, Bren?"

I grinned, but a little tentatively. "I liked the holding hands part..."

So that's what we did. We put on our skates, and just held hands as we glided around the pond. We would glance at one another when we thought the other wasn't looking, then catch each other and look away. We were ridiculous, but in the best way.

We gradually came to a standstill in the middle of the pond, looking at one another. I reached out and took both her hands, and pulled her closer. I know my heart was beating out of my chest - heck, she could probably hear it.

"So, who is supposed to lean first? I'm not sure," I admitted nervously.

"Each halfway?" she suggested, her eyes wide, and searching mine.

I nodded and leaned toward her. She leaned too, and we met in the middle. We kissed, just pressed our lips together, and I was done for.

We were pretty inseparable for the rest of the year. I mean, not like we weren't before, but it was different now. Carrie's mom could tell, and she would just look at us, with this softness in her eyes.

The physical side of our relationship progressed slowly. Kisses and some gentle petting outside our clothes. Then more urgent kisses and touching under clothes. Then... the first time I reached for Carrie's blouse, and she nodded, I stopped breathing. She had to help with the buttons, and when I slipped if off her shoulders to reveal her simple cotton bra (I remember it had small, multi-colored polka dots on it) I was captivated. I looked at her, and she nodded again, so I reached out to run the back of my fingers along the outside swell of her breast.

I looked back up at her, and she had her eyes closed, just breathing. I turned my hand over, and gently cupped her, and then slowly rubbed my thumb over the spot where I imagined her nipple would be.

She made a small noise, and I looked back up into her face. She opened her eyes, and I scooched in closer, and kissed her again. As I continued to stroke, I could see her nipple begin to protrude slightly through the material, and I stared in awe.

Then I got greedy, and started to slide my hands around her, reaching for the clasp. She put her hand on my arm and shook her head slightly. "Sorry Bren, I'm not ready for that yet," she whispered.

"Yeah, sure Carrie, it's fine. Sorry."

"It's ok... what we're doing is nice?" she smiled at me.

It was. I grinned, probably like an idiot, and nodded.

**********

When it finally happened, it was fumbling and awkward and innocent and wonderful. I told her I loved her, and she said she loved me too. Of course we were both virgins, but even with that hurdle out of the way, we didn't go crazy, sexually. We still hung out, held band rehearsals, and generally acted like teenagers. Friends and lovers.

I think our - reticence in the wrong word - restraint, maybe? But whatever it was, I think it made me treasure those moments, and her, even more. All I know is that I never wanted my senior year to end.

**********

Of course, it did. But before that, I got a letter. Well, I got several letters. But the big one, the important one, came from the University of Texas in Austin, and said, "Dear Mr. Barnes, Congratulations, we are pleased to grant you admittance for the fall semester..." along with another letter from the financial aid department, awarding me an academic scholarship.

I sat there and stared at it, then slowly rode my bike to Carrie's house. I just sat on her front porch for a while, until she noticed me sitting out there.

"Hey Bren, whatcha doing out here? You want to come in?"

I just looked at her, and handed her the letter. She came and sat beside me.

I stared into space while she read. She gasped, and said, "Oh my God Brendan, this is incredible! A full ride?" She turned to me and gasped. "What the hell, are you crying?"

I hugged her frantically. "No..."

She pushed me back so she could look at me. "Bren, babe, what is it?"

"I... I... can't leave you, Carrie, I can't!"

"Oh, Bren..." she wrapped her arms around me and I buried my head in her shoulder. Yeah, I was pitiful, but all I could think about was losing her. Because in my mind, being apart meant not being together. And not being together sounded like the end of the world. I know that sounds stupid when I say it like that, but that's what was in my head.

After what felt like a long time of just holding each other, we eventually backed apart. I had managed to stop crying, and Carrie looked like she had started at one point, but she was recovered now as well.

"Let's not think about it right now. Come on inside, mom is going to be late tonight." And she took my hand and led me to her room.

**********

We eventually did have "the talk." I was smart, but not very wise. Carrie was just as smart (if not smarter, frankly), but thank goodness she also had wisdom. She argued that it was too huge an opportunity to pass up, and why did I even apply if I didn't consider going? I didn't have an answer for that, other than I was just thinking about getting away from my step-dad, and we were still just friends when I applied. I said it was just a pipe dream.

I said I'd go to SUNY Geneseo with her. I said a lot of stupid things. We went round and round until finally, she said, "Brendan, if you don't take this chance, you will regret it for the rest of your life. And you'll take that regret out on me, eventually." She really was a very wise person, and after thinking about it for a long time, I reluctantly came to the realization that she was right.

So in August, I packed up my few belongings, and she drove me to the bus station. We said very little. We'd already talked ourselves out in the days leading to this moment.

I simply said, "I love you Carrie, and I always will." I looked into her eyes as earnestly as I knew how. "That's a promise. No matter what, I love you infinity."

She smiled sadly, "I love you infinity plus one."

And I got on the bus.

**********

We did our best to stay in touch, but we were both busy with school. I didn't have much spare money, and no home in Rochester any longer, so I wasn't able to come home for over the holidays. Our talks became more and more infrequent. I got a nice card for Christmas, and on my birthday, and I sent her the same.

I talked to Josh occasionally as well, and a couple of months into my sophomore year, he told me she was casually dating, but as far as he knew, there was nothing serious.

It hurt, but I realized that we were 1600 miles apart and we were living separate lives now. My life was in Texas and hers was in Rochester. I had made some good friends in Austin, and played regularly in a local band throughout college.

I also found a part-time job with a local construction company, and the boss, Jeff Mitchell, took a liking to me. When he found out I was a business major at UT, he told me to learn everything I could working with the crew, and I think he kept a pretty close watch, or had someone reporting on me, because at the beginning of my senior year he told me that if I wanted a job after graduation, it was mine. An office job, he said, laughing.

I found the gym on campus, and forced myself to use it. The exercise, the work outdoors, and a better diet, helped my skin clear up and inexplicably I shot up six inches during my junior year. Contacts helped too, and suddenly I had a lot more girls that seemed to be interested in me. I dated some, but no one really clicked.

Eventually, I graduated with a Bachelor's in Business Administration and a minor in music. I took the job with Mitchell Construction. One of the requirements was Jeff insisted on was that all his employees be bilingual. He hired local tutors, and they held classes right there at the office. I also kept up my gym time, even going to one of those local boxing gyms where I sparred a little, but mostly just worked out.

Life went on for about a year that way. Work, an occasional gig, hanging out. I had a few friends, and continued to casually date.

Then we - well, the company - was contacted about construction of a new development out in New Sweden, and my boss told me I'd be accompanying him to meet with the developer and the realtor.

It was a warm Tuesday afternoon when we all gathered in the developer's conference room. It was almost as nice as the one we had back at our office.

Bob (my boss) and I were there, and he introduced me to Frank Lewis, the developer, and his assistant, Sofía Peña.

I did a double take when I saw her. She was about 5'4", long black hair and dark eyes, and an unblemished tawny-gold complexion. Other than her body, which was exceptional - "C" breasts, great ass, and the defined, firm thighs and calves of a gymnast - her most striking feature was a perfect Aztec nose, which somehow fit her face perfectly.

I may be overdoing it a little, but truly, she was striking. After I managed to close my mouth and stutter a greeting, Bob introduced the two realtors. Walt Jeffries shook my hand, but the other realtor just stared at me. He was Hispanic, about 5'9", and I think I caught his name as Ray Gutiérrez.

After the meeting, I tried to catch up with Sofía, but I saw that Ray fellow opening the door for her, and he had his hand at the small of her back.

She turned to say something to him, and saw me, but I just headed in the other direction.

**********

It was a couple weeks later when Sofía called me to set up a follow-up meeting. I drove over and met her in her office.

"No Ray?" I asked, apparently not as casually as I thought.

She smirked. "No, this is just about the construction. He doesn't need to know." The layers of meaning she put into that last sentence though. I just tried to focus through the rest of what she wanted to discuss.

After the meeting, I asked, "Sofía, before I make a fool of myself, is there anything going on with you and Ray? Tell me it's none of my business if you want, but I was thinking about asking you for a drink, and I don't want to get shot down."

I thought I was being clever. Boy, was I wrong.

She just said, "It's. None. Of. Your. Business." And held the door for me.

Wow, okay. "Fair enough," I said, and got up to leave.

As I was walking past her, she laid a hand on my arm. She gave me a sultry smile, and asked, "I thought you were going to ask me for a drink?"

I looked at her quizzically. "But I thought you just said..."

She stopped me. "I said, what I do with Ray is none of your business." Then she smiled again. "And what I do with you is none of HIS business."