©2010 by Leslie Blue
Leslie Blue, 1972 High School Picture
When I was a senior in high school, I met and fell in love with Jamie. I dated his friend and housemate, Michael, a few times, and we had a fun enough time together... But from the moment Michael had introduced me to that man, I knew instantly that Jamie would become the love of my life!
The mutual sexual attraction and connection was immediate for both Jamie and me, and so for the next seven or so years, we maintained a pretty steady if not sporadic kind of boyfriend/girlfriend type of relationship that grew pretty strong between us -- especially considering for those times of hippie sex and free love, couples who did, indeed, stay together as mates were rare. As life would have it though, its circumstances pulled us apart and caused us to lose touch with one another for the following period of more than 25 years. But during that entire time, not a day ever went by in passing, without the thought of Jamie and his love crossing through it somewhere in my mind...
Sometime toward the end of my forties, my curiosity about what had become of Jamie began to get the best of me, so I started an Internet search to find him. I wanted so badly to touch base with him after all these years and find out what he had been up to. I also wanted desperately to tell him that after all of these years apart, I never had stopped loving him. And almost like a little girl's fantasy about her future love and life and fairy tale happy endings, I dreamed of and even longed for some kind of reunion with him, in reigniting and rekindling our uniquely passionate romance.
Then sometime in early April of 2004, I finally located Jamie after more than two years of an exhaustive Internet search -- I found him through a friend and former fishing buddy of his named Robbie, who had posted Jamie's picture holding a big deep sea catch on his website. And within 24 hours after I emailed Robbie my picture, along with my message which was to be forwarded to my former lover, Jamie telephoned me!
It was amazingly wonderfully fantastically super simply to hear his deep, sexy voice with the ever-so-slight southern twang to it again! And just as instantaneously as we had done when we first met more than 26 years ago, we connected the same way again at the moment our telephone lines crossed! It was immediately obvious to both of us that more than just a spark of true love still remained. Indeed, we were so well connected again that it seemed as if those years spent apart that had passed between us had disappeared! And as luck would have it this time around, both Jamie and I were finally free to pursue a life in spending it together... So for that entire year following our most joyous reunion, we maintained a long distance romance, via the telephone and the Internet. For the only problem keeping us apart now was the distance in miles that we lived from one another. Jamie was in the Florida Keys, where he owned his own charter fishing boat business, and here was I living at the New Jersey shore, still a Jersey girl at heart!
On Saturday night, March 5, 2005, I said goodnite to my Jamie in what had become our usual, daily habit. Each night when we hung up the phone for the last time that day, we would end our conversation the same way every single time -- that is by saying to each other, "I love you, honey!" and then Jamie would always make a bunch of loud, smacking kissing noises into the speaker! Little did I know that was going to be the last time I would ever hear his voice.
On Sunday, March 6, I did not get a call from him. I was a bit concerned, but not too worried cause I knew he had to attend court the next day, regarding a medical malpractice suit that was ongoing with him for some 4 years. Jamie had a botched knee surgery a few years back, and was about to be awarded about $4 million as a result of it. So I just presumed he was preoccupied with his case, and did not try to phone him that day. Begininning on Monday, the next day, I tried to call him. No answer all day, all night. Tuesday I tried again, and continued to do so for the next 9 days. By then I was frantic with worry, and had begun making emergency phone connections with numbers he and I had exchanged just in case we could not get a hold of each other at some point. I was unable to contact anyone!
On Thursday, St. Patrick's Day, I had been unable to sleep a wink in two days by then, so I called his number once again, around 8 a.m. A woman's voice answered with, "Jamie's phone."
"Is Jamie there?" I inquired desperately.
"No, he isn't. Who is calling please."
"This is Leslie, his girlfriend in New Jersey," I told her.
"Leslie," she said, in recognition of my name. "Leslie, I have some very very bad news to tell you. Jamie died last week. We found his body, laying peacefully in his bed. Autopsy revealed he died of an apparent heart attack in his sleep."
I was deafened by the sound of my own screaming. No, No, No, No, No! This was not true, it was not going to be true, and I was not going to accept it from anyone, anyway. Alas, it was real. Jamie was dead. God had given me barely a year of having the love of my life back in it, and now He snatched Jamie right back up out of my life once again. Jamie was barely 51 years old.
Who ever knows or understands why things happen in our lives with the order and disorder that they do. And although I have always hated to admit this, for my generally positive attitude about everything, life sure can suck sometimes, and for the most part, life really is very unfair. But such it is. And thank God I have learned acceptance is a big part of this life, or I would be wallowing in a sea of grief for the rest of mine.
So Jamie is gone from this earth. But I picture him now, somewhere in some space, alongside my dear old Dad, both of them looking down on me, watching over me, protecting me, and waiting for me there. I will, for the rest of this life, have the hope and promise that Jamie, my Dad, and me will someday be together again somewhere, some place, no longer carrying the hard, troubling cares of this world, but together in Paradise!
A Summer Day, 1971
Somewhere down a dead end dirt road in Northern New Jersey
A summer house, almost a mansion, with about 20
rooms in it.
The house is the only one on this huge lake that was called Moosepak.
Jamie was THE love of my life -- there is no doubt about that and no other way to put it. We were hippies of the 70s, true flower wearing, pot-smoking, listening to psychedelic music-loving hippies -- and Jamie and I were the penultimate of that group.
Jamie was more than just a doll, when it comes to the way girls talked about guys looks in those days -- Jamie was absolutely, totally and completely, 100% gorgeous in every single way. It wasn't until I got older that I realized he looked almost exactly like Kevin Costner. With his long, chestnut brown hair that hung all the way down to his shoulders, and a full-fledged Fu Manchu mustache to match -- he was really a hunk!
I was quite the little sex kitten myself, even if i may have seemed somewhat cherubic. My hair was all the way down my back, parted in the middle, and straight naturally blonde, and Jamie reminds me now that i had a nice set of 34Bs, what for only being 18. Yep, I was 18, he was 19, and this is what a typical summer day was like for us all those years ago up at Moosepac.
9:00 a.m. He begins to stir. I have been watching him from behind for nearly two hours -- I can't sleep because I am so horny. I keep gently grinding my pussy into his butt, to try to wake him up, but he seems dead to the world. We are sleeping like spoons in his upstairs loft bedroom. I am the scooper-upper back spoon -- every curve of my body is molded snugly into his back, with my little pussy patch pressed tightly against his rear end.
Suddenly, his gorgeous face appears as he rolls over and kisses me open on my mouth.
"Morning, honey! What do you want to do today?" he grins at me with his greeting.
I smile back and say, "Will you eat my pussy?"
"Sure, baby!" he replies with glee, as he slides his head straight down to my groin.
Poking his tongue directly into my pussy, he begins twirling it on my clit.
"Oh, my god!" I am already screaming, for in less than one minute he has me cumming all over that gorgeous chestnut mustache of his.
He peeks up smiling, with his mouth full of pussy, and says, "Oh, Leslie, I just love it when you shiver like that!!!"
In one bold move, he is on top of me -- guiding his gorgeous golden seven inch rod right into me! It goes in so fast and smooth that we never even have to touch it to help it along, as it heads straight to my g-spot. We start fucking away madly -- away, away into the clouds it feels, and I am cumming over and over again in waves of four.
"One, two, three, four," I am counting out loud to him, then whispering it in his ear, "5, 6, 7, 8"
He braces himself by his arms just a bit, for he is about to shoot his huge, hot morning load right into me. We have been pumping and thumping away for some twenty minutes now, to the beat of Steely Dan's first album, coming from Michael's stereo downstairs.
This man feels so good, with our every muscle outline and each inch of our skin meshing perfectly together.
I am silently praying, "God, did you make this man for me? You must have, because nothing has ever felt this good in my whole life, God. Sweet Jesus, I hope I am not doing anything wrong, because if I am, then you are going to have to forgive me! Because I'm not going to stop doing this, God! Amen."
Now Jamie pulls me full into his body and freezes for just a few seconds. He moans and groans and almost shouts out something -- but it's not quite a word. It is just Jamie's familiar sound that he makes when he cums -- and after more than 30 years, I can still hear it ring true in my ear! He finishes and collapses in a heap on top of me, not at all heavy, but feeling pretty perfect!
"Oh, Leslie," he whispers in my ear. "Aren't you the sweetest thing to wake up to!"
9:45 a.m. Jamie and I are kicked back onto the pillows and he reaches over his shoulder to pick up a file card sized tin box. He opens it up for me to see, revealing about ten small, assorted colored, glass bottles.
"Well, what do you want to smoke this morning?" he inquires.
"Oh, Jamie, you don't have to ask me, baby, you know I want the Nepalese Finger Hash."
He reaches for the amber bottle and opens it -- exposing half a dozen, three inch long sticks of the deep brown, tarry drug. He pulls out one twisted stick and pinches off a good inch from the end -- then rolls it between his thumb and forefinger -- shaping it into a ball and placing it in the bronze hash pipe. We begin to toke away for the next few minutes -- fading off into a dreamlike trance with each pull on the pipe. The Nepalese finger hash was like smoking pure opium -- with its thick, oily, potent resin.
We savored a few private moments apart to enjoy the rush of the day's first high. But in one more brief moment, there we were again -- all tangled up in each others arms, legs, and lips -- sighing, moaning, and fucking up another storm! I took the top this time, enabling me to control the motions. We shared our second explosive orgasm and plopped back down on the pillows -- panting and sweating simultaneously.
We must have dozed off for a few more minutes and when I opened my eyes again,
Jamie was sitting on the edge of his bed, fully dressed and putting his boots on.
"Oh, Jamie, why do you get out of bed without waking me up?" I whined.
"I'm sorry, babe, but you look so beautiful when you're sleeping, I did not want to wake you. Besides, I have a lot of work to do today with Michael. Why don't you just stay put and sleep in a while?"
"You know I can't sleep a wink in this bed without you, baby. I am getting up too," I almost pouted.
As usual, he was totally oblivious to my silent begging for more sex -- his mind was already off and running on his business of some pretty big-time, pot dealing.
That's how a typical summer wake up call went at Moosepak. For two whole summers, we romped and played and fooled around, with wild abandon, that was so typical of those hippie days. But I do remember one August morning, during the dog days of summer, when Jamie and I awoke that was a bit less routine than the others..... It started out the same way, around 9:00 a.m. with our wild lovemaking. But this time, when I awoke Jamie was still naked and staring into my eyes with a devilish grin plastered on his face.
"Baby, it's so hot this morning, and nobody else is up yet. Do you want to go skinny dipping?"
"Oh, my God, Jamie, what a great idea!" I cheered, as I kissed him full on his mouth.
Our nude bodies were creeping down the staircase of his loft to the first floor of the house. Through the hall, into the living room, we tiptoed past two closed bedrooms and out the front door. A flagstone path wound its way down the hill to the old, gray wooden dock that extended about 50 feet onto the lake.
We ran over the wooden planks like horny bunnies chasing one after the other, plunging feet first off of the end, into the freezing, icy cold water. With our heads bobbing like apples, our bodies gravitated toward one another, and in the next moment I had my long legs wrapped like a pretzel around his tight waist -- my feet locked into the small of his back.
His hard rod was already inside me again, fucking me madly like love addicts right there in the fresh, cold water of Moosepac Lake.
"Oh, Jamie, this feels so good!" I screamed. My moans, gasps and cries were echoing all the way across the lake. "Oh, baby, there is nothing feels like this, doing it in the water, does it, honey? Does it feel good to you, too?"
He was crying out his sounds again, and I did not need his direct response to get the answer to my question. He was obviously enjoying it, as he shot another load of his hot cum into my love canal. I could feel it gushing warm between my thighs.
"Jamie, I love you so much! You make me feel so good!"
I told him I loved him often, but he never answered me back. My heart would break a little each time he was silent with reply.
After another brief round of water play, we climbed up on the dock and ran shivering and laughing all the way back to the house.
We entered the living room to see two guys sitting on the sofa and another one in each of the two arm chairs -- laughing hysterically and clapping wildly for us. Jamie and I held hands and took a bow, before scooting back up to his loft to share a few more private moments together.
It would not be until seven years later that I would finally learn how Jamie really felt about me back in those 1970s, but that, my friends, is a whole other chapter...
