Mark Arbour
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A Summer Love - 2. Chapter 2

June 4, 1991

        I woke up spooned behind JP just like I had yesterday.  He had told me that when he'd lived here before, Jeff would do the same thing.  It kind of bothered me when he said stuff like that.  I worried that maybe he was with me just because I was like my father.  The whole thing was pretty twisted, but right now, with this hot, brilliant guy in my arms, I didn't care.  I started kissing his neck to wake him up. 

        “I guess you don't know how to sleep in?” he asked, smiling.  “Your turn.”  He turned around and pushed me onto my back and started working his mouth down my body, past my trail to my pubes and my dick.  He passed right by it, heading straight for my balls, then my taint.  His mouth was driving me nuts, but when it went lower and traced my hole, probing me, licking me, all I could do was lie there and moan.  Then I felt his fingers probe me, pushing in gently.  First he used one finger, then two.  I usually topped, getting fucked was a pretty rare event, so I was pretty tight.  He understood that, and took extra time with me, working his fingers in and out of my sphincter, opening me up.

        Then he used his fingers to probe deeper, pushing up into my ass and hitting my prostate.  I knew I had a sensitive prostate, I'd just never found anyone since Lou I'd fully trusted to fuck me.  But I trusted JP completely, and relaxed, letting him push my magic button, and drive me nuts.  I felt wave after wave flow through me, waves of ecstasy and electricity combined.  Then he pulled his fingers out and I felt his dick head pushing into my hole.  I instinctively tightened my sphincter, but he stopped, giving me time to relax.  I did, felt him push again, and then he was in.  I tried to adapt to his size quickly, but it wasn't comfortable until he started pumping in and out, and he hit my spot again. 

        Once I had it down again, I pulled my legs back, giving him full access and begging him to pound my ass.  He fucked me slow, he fucked me fast, he fucked me hard, and he fucked me soft.  I learned the true joy of being with an older guy, a guy who knew how to control his trigger.  He kept me on edge forever; the bliss went on and on and on.  I was incoherent, I was at his mercy. 

        “You ready to cum?” he asked me, his voice firm and gravelly, the voice of a man in charge.

        “Uh huh,” I heard myself whimper.  And then he picked up his pace and I felt his hand gently, softly stroke my dick.  That's all it took.  I heard myself cry out, like I'd been lifted out of my own body, as wave after wave of ecstasy flowed through my body.  I heard him moaning loudly too, the sound he made when he came, but I couldn't be sure.  I was too wrapped up in my own orgasm.  Finally, I lay there, weak, spent and quivering, looking up at him in amazement at what he'd made me do.  He smiled down at me, grabbed a towel, and wiped up the gallon of cum I'd shot. 

        “You liked that?” he teased.

        “You could tell?” I asked, smiling.  He held out his hand and pulled me up, leading me to the shower, his cum dripping out of my ass with each step.  We showered quietly, washing each other.  I couldn't understand why he'd made me jump right up after we came.  I always let him lie on my chest.  I was about to condemn him for being a jerk, when we got to the kitchen to find Stefan, Robbie, and Brad waiting impatiently for us.  He had taken so much time fucking me that we were running almost 45 minutes behind schedule. 

        We rushed out of the condo and down to our car, and then tore down the Drive to our plane.  I smiled as I sat back in the Falcon.  I'd had my massive orgasm barely an hour ago.  “You look satisfied,” Stefan teased.

        “You have no idea,” I said, smiling.  JP blushed.  We ate breakfast on the plane, and that filled up the time until we landed in Boston, thanks to a strong tailwind. 

        “Call me when you get to Chicago and we will come pick you up,” said Stefan cheerfully.  Then we hopped into the limo and sped off, while the Falcon headed west once again. 

        Thanks to Stef's generosity, I had a nice apartment near the Harvard campus.  JP toured its one bedroom, living/dining room, and kitchen pretty fast.  “Not much is it?” I teased.

        “Better than my apartment when I went here,” he said.  He wandered into the bedroom and I followed him.  “Uh oh, I should have known better than to come in here.” 

        I moved up behind him and nuzzled into the back of his neck, then kissed him under his chin, running my lips up to his ear.  “Let me fuck you,” I whispered.  He moaned and pushed back into me.  God, he was amazing.  I found myself suddenly overcome with lust and I pushed him toward the bed, then on it, where I pulled his shoes and pants off.  Then I rolled him over onto his stomach and grabbed the lube, using it liberally on my dick.  I lay on top of him so he could feel my whole body dominating him and entered him, shocking him with the speed of my penetration.  He squirmed under me, trying to gain some control, but I was much bigger than him, and I had him pinned.  “You are completely at my mercy,” I said into his ear, in a dominant voice.

        He moaned and growled, pushing his ass back into me as if that would knock me off, while I started to fuck him harder and harder.  I sensed his mood, that the lack of control was firing him up, and really started slamming into him.  He really lost it then, moaning loud enough that the neighbors had to hear.  We came, not quite together, but close and I just stayed on his back, lying on him, feeling him panting beneath me, my cock still hard and still lodged in his ass.  He relaxed, fooling me, and then knocked me off of him.  I was worried he'd be pissed off, but the cute smile on his face said otherwise. 

        “You are reintroducing me to the joy of sex.  I wonder if I'll live through the summer.” 

        I kissed him.  “But what a way to go.”  He giggled a cute giggle that wasn't feminine at all, more a snicker and laugh combined. 

        “So what do we have to pack?  When did you want to leave?” he asked, being way too task oriented.

        “I thought we'd spend the day packing and fucking, then we'd spend the night fucking, and then tomorrow we'd load the car and fuck, and leave sometime tomorrow afternoon.”  He cracked up.

        “Alright.  Well, since we just did the fucking part, we should probably do a little packing.”  He got up and put his pants back on and we got to work on my apartment, packing things up, but taking frequent breaks just as I'd outlined.

June 5, 1991

        “You seem awfully happy,” JP observed with a smile.

        “I am.  It's a beautiful sunny day, there's no traffic on the road, I'm driving to Chicago with the hottest guy I know, who's brains I fucked out this morning;  Life is good.” 

        “The hottest guy you know?  You need to meet more men,” JP responded in his self-deprecating way when the subject of his own sexiness came up. 

        “You're full of shit.  Just being with you makes me hard.” 

        “Really?” he asked slyly.  He leaned over the console and massaged my almost hard dick.  I was wearing board shorts, so instead of taking them off, he just slid them up to expose my throbbing organ.  Then he bent over and took me into his mouth, sucking my dick with expertise young guys could only dream of. 

        “Fuck.  That feels so good,” I said, moaning.  He just kept working me, nice and slow, keeping me on edge for what seemed like miles.  Then he picked up his pace, on a mission to make me cum.  There was a Weigh Station just ahead so I pulled over to the side of the road and blew my load into his mouth.  Damn he was good.  I was glad I’d pulled over.  “That was amazing.”

        He grinned.  “I'm glad you liked it.” 

        “What about you?” I asked, reaching over to touch his hard dick. 

        He pushed my hand away.  “Marcel, I can't match you orgasm for orgasm.  And no, I'm not putting myself down for being old; it's just a fact of life.  So let me get you off.  I loved doing it.  Couldn't you tell?” 

        I grinned at him and almost told him that I loved him but stopped just in time.  “You are an entirely different person when you are aroused.”

        He looked mildly annoyed.  “How so?”

        “You leave your severity behind and become playful.  You let down your shields and let me in, figuratively and literally.”  He giggled.  “See.  You are so fucking cute.  I love seeing this side of you.”  He was positively glowing. 

        We just drove down the road, smiling.  I decided to change the subject.  “I was surprised to read your treatise in support of the Gulf War.  I figured you were just climbing on to the victory party until I saw that it was dated before we invaded Kuwait.”

        “Why would you be surprised?”

        “You are a renowned anti-war activist.  Your book on Vietnam was a masterpiece.”  The mention of the book seemed to bother him.

        “I'm anti-war to the degree that I hate the killing, but I can hardly be a historian and not acknowledge that some wars are necessary.  In this situation, we had a sovereign nation that attacked another sovereign nation for no reason other than territorial greed, and oil.  The international community has to condemn that kind of outrage, and has to band together to fight against it.”

        I smiled at him.  “I agree with you, and not just because I'm trying to butter you up so I can fuck you again later.” 

       He laughed.  “I know.  You don't have to butter me up to fuck me later.”  We laughed, but then he got more pensive.  “Launching Scud missiles at Israel was the scariest part of that war.  Inflaming the anti-Semitic feelings of the Arab world was genius on Saddam's part, or it would have been if it had worked.  I think that there will be no peace in the Middle East until we can find a solution to the Arab-Israeli problem.”  

        “It is a problem that has baffled everyone,” I said, discouraged.  I didn't want to think about that quagmire, so I shifted the topic to a different one.  “Could you not call the Vietnamese conflict a war between sovereign nations, between North and South Vietnam?” 

        “No, because the war was never fought that way.  Vietnam was a civil war.  There was a rich landowning class that exploited the  peasants, a system which replicated itself in the cities, with rich professionals or businessmen that exploited the  poor workers.  We used this concept of fighting communism, turned it almost into a religion, and tacked it onto that conflict to justify our intervention.  Then pride and nationalism kept us there.  I hope we have learned our lesson and we don't go down that road again.”

        I thought about what he said.  “I hope you're right.  I mean, the Gulf War started on January 17th or something like that, was won by the end of February, and our troops were on their way home starting in March.  That seems pretty clean.”

        He nodded.  “That's what I mean.  There was no civil war, no battle of concepts, it was a situation of beat your enemy, restore order, and go home.  Clear cut, achievable objectives.” 

        “Now they're saying that Saddam Hussein is a nutcase and that we should have kept going until we got to Baghdad,” I said, repeating the idiotic ranting I heard in local bars.

        “Nonsense.  That wasn't the objective.  If it were, we'd have ended up invading Iraq, taking out Saddam Hussein, and starting a civil war there.  It would have been another quagmire.  Besides that, we weren't the only members of the coalition.  The Arab states would never have gone for it,” he said, with rare conviction.

        “Who cares what they think?  We could have done it alone,” I said, not believing it, just saying it to provoke more thoughts.

        “Saudi Arabia and Egypt, just those two countries, had over 100,000 people involved in the war.  So those troops would probably have frozen in place.  More important, though, is that we started the war with a clear objective, our allies signed up for it under those circumstances, and let us use their land, their sovereign territory, to launch the invasion.  What happens if we change the objective and they don't agree?  Refuse to allow our troops and supplies transit through their territory?”  He looked at me like I was a fool.  I looked at him like he was a God.  I loved his mind.  I loved listening to him talk, reason, to watch him think.  And it turned me on like crazy. 

        There was an exit ahead with a sign for a Motel 6.  I took the exit and drove up to the entrance of the motel.  “What are you doing?” JP asked.

        “I will be right back,” I told him.  I went in and told the clerk that I wanted a room for a few hours to take a quick nap and a shower.  Cost me $20.  I got in the car and drove around to our room in the back.  “Come on,” I said.

        He followed me into the cheesy motel room that smelled bad and looked worse.  He turned to argue with me but I just grabbed him and pushed him onto the bed, falling on top of him.  “I want you.  I want to fuck you right now,” I said.

        He looked at me, about to argue, but he must have read the look on my face, the raw lust that told him I was going to get what I wanted whether he gave it to me or I had to take it.  I pulled off his clothes roughly, like an animal, rolled him onto his hands and knees and dove into his ass, growling and moaning while I rimmed and licked him.  I pulled up and dropped my pants, a bit of lube, and then I entered him, not roughly, but firmly, with a purpose.  And then I fucked him.  I really fucked him, just slamming into his sweet ass.  God, he felt so good.  He put his face on the bed, arching his ass even higher, and just whimpered until I brought us both to orgasm. 

        “What the fuck was that all about?” he asked, smiling.

        “I told you, I love your mind.  It turns me on more than anything, more than your green eyes, your blond hair, and your amazing body.”  He seemed to sense my sincerity.

        “You going to do this all summer when I'm trying to talk about Louis XV?” he teased.

        “Absolutely.  Still want me to work for you?”  I teased.

        “Absolutely,” he said. 

June 12, 1991

        “I do not want to leave,” I told him as we lay in my bed in my awesome Chicago condo.  “Let's just live here together and do nothing but fuck.” 

        JP smiled up at me and moved closer.  “Tempting.  How about if we go back to California, do some work, and still fuck?”  He moved onto me, almost undulating, molding his body to mine, until he was on top of me and my dick was lined up to his ass.  He lowered himself down, absorbing me with ease since we were still lubed from our last session.  I could not get enough of him.  We'd fuck, have a great orgasm, and two hours later I’d be horny as hell again. 

        He moved himself on and off of me, slowly, maintaining the control of the pace.  Then he started to get excited, really excited, so he leaned forward and buried his head in my neck, softly moaning.  I let him maintain control; let him bring us both off this time, being largely passive.  It was a major turn on.  After we came he stayed right where he was, on top of me, with his nose nuzzling against my chin. 

        He sighed.  “I've got some errands to run,” he said.  “It won't take too long, but I also have that dinner with Dave tonight.  It will give you a chance to bond with your apartment.” 

        “It will give me a chance to practice being lonely for next year,” I said glumly. 

        “You won't be lonely.  You'll meet new people, make new friends, maybe even find the man of your dreams,” he said, smiling at me.

        “I already met the man of my dreams, but he lives in Palo Alto,” I told him honestly.  I saw the conflicting emotions clearly on his face:  The recoil from the thought of us in a long term relationship, and the realization that he loved me too, he just wouldn't say it.  “You think you may have a little time in between your errands and your dinner?” 

        “I think so,” he said, winking at me. 

        “Take my car, I will hang out here,” I said. 

        “You're sure?” he asked.  I nodded.  He got out of bed and headed to the shower.  I felt so alone without him.

 

        I sulked around the condo, enjoying its perfect décor, its beauty, the view of the Lake, but I was bored.  The last few days had been a huge rush, one long orgasm, physically and emotionally.  I had been fantasizing about JP for years, and now that I was finally with him, it was better than I’d even dreamed.  He stimulated every part of me, my mind first and foremost. 

        But the best part of all was now that he trusted me, when we were together he'd let his guard down and let me see the real JP.  The tortured, self-critical soul with a playful streak and a passion that burned deeply.  I looked down at my pants and I was tenting big time. 

        I heard a key in the door, then it opened, and he came bouncing in, smiling big.  He saw my tenting pants and started laughing.  “What are you doing?” 

        “Thinking about you,” I said.

        “No really,” he prodded.

        “I'm serious.  I was thinking about you.”  I undid my zipper, taking out my dick.  It was hilarious to watch his whole mood change. 

        “I don't have much time,” he said.  And then he was on his knees, blowing me, using his tongue to set me free.  And when I came, he swallowed every drop, not like some guys, who swallow because they feel like they have to, but like he really wanted to, like he enjoyed the way I tasted.  He stood up and kissed me, his own erection tenting now.  I grabbed it but he pushed my hand away.  “I'm saving myself for later.” 

        “Later?”

        “Yeah.  I'm having dinner with Dave,” he said.  I knew him well enough to know that he was teasing me, and it cracked me up to see him realize that and to have it piss him off.  “What?”

        “You are teasing me. I figured it out, and that pissed you off,” I told him. 

        He got a really irritated look on his face and then smiled.  “Jeff used to do that to me.  He'd read my mind and you're right, it just pissed me off.”  The mention of my father threatened to fuck up the moment, so he changed the subject.  “I barely have time to change and give you your graduation present.” 

        “You already gave me my graduation present,” I said, rubbing his ass.  He slapped my hand playfully and tossed me a set of keys. 

        “Your car was old.  I bought you a new one,” he said with a grin.  The fob had a Mercedes-Benz logo on it.

        “It was only four years old,” I said, smiling at him.  “What did you get me?” 

        “Well, while I take a shower, you can go find out.”  And he flounced off into the bedroom.  I took the elevator down to the garage, barely able to contain my excitement. 

        The door opened and I walked out to my space and there was a new Mercedes.  The letters on the back said 500SL.  It was black, with a black interior and absolutely gorgeous.  I just ran my hands over it lovingly.  I thought my BMW was the ultimate car, even though it had been less than reliable, but this was a vehicular work of art. 

        I opened the door and sat in it, enjoying the new car smell, somewhat different from most cars, uniquely Mercedes.  I took out the manual and started to read it.  The hard top came off for the summer, so I figured out how to remove it and put it in my empty parking space.  I'd have to buy a rack to hold it.  Then I figured out how to work the soft top.  This would be so cool in the summer, only I wouldn't be here to enjoy it.  Maybe the weather would still be nice in September?  But then I'd be here without JP, and that made me sad. 

        “I thought you'd be happy.  Don't you like it?” JP asked.  I looked up to find him staring at me, worried. 

        “I am.  It is amazing.  Look, I already took the hardtop off!”  I showed him how that worked.  “I was just thinking that I will not get to really enjoy it until September, but then you will not be here with me.”  He grinned at me. 

        “Well, why don't you drive me over to Dave's house?  I'll have him bring me back after dinner.  I've got directions.  You drive, I'll navigate.”

        I walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for him like I would if it were a date.  He cracked up.  “Does this make me your bitch?” 

        “Yes, as a matter of fact,” I said.  He made to get in but I stopped him and pulled him to me, kissing his lips with all the passion, love, and feeling that I could.  “Je t'aime,” I said in French, breathing it into his ear.  I gasped right after I said it.  I hadn't meant for it to come out, at least not like that.  I didn't want him to think that I was just saying that because he bought me an $80,000 car. 

        He just stared at me, his green eyes piercing into me like lasers, like truth serum.  I could never lie to him while staring at his eyes.  “What did you say?”

        I swallowed.  “I love you.”  I could see that he knew that I was telling the truth.  I felt my eyes get watery and I cursed myself for being a fucking pussy.  “Is that a bad thing?” 

        “It is the greatest compliment anyone has ever paid me,” he said.  “But it is a bad thing.”  He put his hand to my eyes and wiped away the tear that was starting to fall.  “I love you too.” 

        “You do?” I asked, feeling my face break into a grin that no amount of self control would ever be able to stop. 

        “Yeah, I do.  And it's scary, because this fall, when you're here and I'm in Palo Alto, and we're not together, this is going to hurt like hell.”  He was so sincere, and so right. 

        “Yeah, but right here, right now, I have a boyfriend that I love, and who loves me back.  Right now, life is great!”  I was close to dancing around the parking garage.

        “No, right now you have a boyfriend who is very late,” he said, bringing me back to the real world.  I drove the Mercedes gently out of the building, or tried to.  The big V-8 engine was powerful.  Dave lived in the suburb of Wilmette, an expensive suburban community just north of campus.  JP said that he'd moved there in the late '60s, which explained how he could afford to live the pricey real estate on a university salary. 

        “Come in and say hello,” JP insisted.  I started to argue but he was already out of the car and halfway up the walk to the house before I could say anything.  He waited for me impatiently, so I sighed and followed him to the door. 

        Dave answered and gave JP another big hug.  He was remarkably warm and affectionate for a geeky kind of guy.  “Marcel,” he said, giving me a less exuberant but still friendly hug. “Welcome!  Come on in.” 

        “I'm just dropping JP off,” I said nervously.  “I do not want to intrude.” 

        “Nonsense,” he said, almost pulling me in.  “You have to stay for dinner too.”  He saw me get ready to argue.  “Now before you argue, remember that it's not a good idea to piss off your Department Chair.” 

        That cracked me up.  “Yes sir, I'd love to stay for dinner,” I said.  We had a great dinner.  Mrs. Adams was a good cook and a charming person as well.  It was a great opportunity to get to know them both.  I looked at JP and knew that he had planned this all along. 

        “Marcel, why don't you stop by and see me when you get back in town,” Adams said.  “Get your doctoral proposal together and we'll go over it.” 

        I stared at him and blinked.  Was he offering to be my advisor?  To be my mentor?  To guide me through the entire doctoral process, including my dissertation?  “Thank you Dr. Adams.  That would be terrific,” I said, trying to sound calm. 

        I had noticed that JP had an incredibly astute social intuition, the kind of guy who could sense when it was time to leave, almost exactly.  He didn't lose his skill tonight.  We said cheerful goodbyes and headed out to my new car.  I unlocked the doors and put the top down, but I let JP open his own door this time in case Adams was watching us leave. 

        “So how long had you been planning to rope me into staying for dinner?” I asked him as I zipped down Sheridan.

        He looked at me and smiled, the wind blowing his thick blond hair and making him look absolutely beautiful.  “For about a week.”  I just shook my head and smiled.

        We got back to the condo and he headed to the bedroom.  “Wait,” I said.  He looked at me surprised.  I'd never missed a chance to jump into bed with him.  “I will meet you on the balcony.”  He shrugged and headed out onto the balcony while I went into the bedroom and grabbed the lube.  I met him outside, a beautiful Chicago summer night, and we just stood there and stared at the city and its blinking lights. 

        I moved up behind him and reached for his belt buckle, loosening it, and then his pants, undoing the button and zipper enough to pull them down in back and expose his ass.  Then I undid my own pants and pulled out my own hard dick, slid some lube on it, and moved up behind him.  I guided my dick between his cheeks.  It was like a heat-seeking missile aimed right for his hole.  I penetrated him gently and began to make love to him, slowly and lovingly, pushing him against the railing with the city expanding before us, and the abyss, the ground, 20 floors below. 

        The excitement of being in public and fucking, even though it wasn't really public, and the thrill of being so close to the edge of the balcony, was a total rush.  I could feel his cheeks squeezing my dick, making me work to enter him and squeezing even harder in an effort to keep me inside.  He leaned back into me, moving his face up to my neck below my ear.  “Why are you fucking me out here?” he asked with a giggle.

        “First of all, I'm not fucking you; I'm making love to you.  Cannot you feel it?  Cannot you feel how much I love you?”  He moaned, a higher pitched moan, almost feminine, and he kissed my neck.  “I want you to look out at all of those lights,” I said as I slowly moved in and out of him, controlling my own groans.  “There are millions of people out there, millions of guys.”  God, his ass felt good.  I couldn't stifle my loud sigh of ecstasy.  “There’s not one guy out there; there’s not anyone out there that I'd rather be with more than you.” 

        He pulled away from me, my dick slipping out, and turned to face me.  Our lips met, a passionate kiss, a very passionate kiss.  “I want to finish this in the bedroom, where I can take off all of your clothes and watch you make love to me.”  I nodded and led him to the bedroom, his pants still down in back and my dick still poking out. 

        We got undressed and met in the middle of the huge bed.  He lay on his back and pulled his legs back, exposing his hole to my waiting cock.  I slid back in him and felt like I was home again.  He let his legs loose and they extended so his feet landed on my shoulders.  I grabbed them and held them tight, using them for leverage while I started really fucking him.  I fucked him harder and harder, a rough, raw, passionate fuck, the whole time keeping my eyes locked on his, exchanging visual signals that were as caring and loving as our sex was hard. 

        I felt my balls start to rise.  “I'm gonna cum soon,” I told him.  He reached down and started stroking his own cock, and then our eyes broke contact when his rolled back into his head.  And then he started cumming.  His first shot was a huge rope of cum, followed by stream after stream.  I could tell he was almost done blowing when I came, and I felt bad that I hadn't timed it better.  I moaned, then groaned, then growled loudly as I started exploding into his ass.  He was extraordinary.  His ass kept on twitching and spasming right with me, and he seemed to actually keep his orgasm going along with mine. 

        We froze there on the bed, panting and smiling at each other.  I lowered my head to his chest and licked off a big blob of his cum, enjoying the taste of him even after I'd blown my wad.  I felt his hand run gently through my hair and I moved down to his abdomen, licking and slurping up his load.  When I got to his cock I took it in my mouth and enjoyed the feel of it, now only semi hard, as I sucked every last drop of cum out of it. 

        I collapsed on my back, totally sated, totally content.  JP moved up to me in his sexy way and wrapped himself around me, lying on top of me.  “Marcel,” he said, getting my attention.  “I've been with a lot of guys.  I've been with some amazing lovers, men who brought me to places sexually that I never thought I'd get to.  But no one, none of them has satisfied me as you have.”  I felt my ego soar. 

        “That's funny, I was about to say the same thing about you,” I said to him smiling.  “But thanks.”  I lay there, just holding him.  “I need you to understand just how much I love you.  This is not just a schoolboy crush.  It's real, it's deep, and it's passionate.” 

        “I understand,” he said gently, and brushed my cheek with his fingers.  “I love you too.  I love you more than I want to.  But this changes nothing.  We have to enjoy each other now, enjoy our time together now.  This is our time, but we won’t pass this way again.” 

        I nodded and felt the tears well up in my eyes and start flowing out the sides of my eyes.  JP was here to kiss them away this time, but I knew these wouldn't be the last tears I cried over him, and I knew that he wouldn't be here to dry my eyes in the future.  I kept hoping for some sort of mechanism that would just freeze time; freeze us together in our current situation.  The whole situation was so bittersweet.  I resolved to put thoughts of the fall behind me, and to just enjoy the summer. 

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Chapter Comments

Marcel is right, you cannot help who you fall in love with. That being said, I doubt this will be more than a summer romance as the title suggest. It isn't always the age that drives two people apart that are far apart, it is the life experience and lack thereof...

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Right now I hate that JP and Marcel's paths can't be more congruous. I'll get over it but it sure sucks knowing a good thing is finite.

 

Thanks.

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