1 comments/ 8291 views/ 5 favorites My Whole Life By: itastorywriter To tell you the truth, I never thought I'd miss you. I still remember the first time I saw you: I was at the train station waiting for a friend. I was walking up and down the station, in front of the tunnel coming from the railways, watching the books in the shop window of a small bookshop. Action, romance, history; every book recalled different memories, different times of my life, of other lives. Don't you think I'm old, anyway: I'm young enough to look like a man in his early thirties... and that's probably why you got confused and approached me. "Hi... I'm Michelle, have you been waiting for long?" I was still caught in my thoughts - didn't even see you coming out of the elevator - and so I automatically took the hand you were giving me, without thinking, "I'm Denis, Hi." just in time to see the embarrassment in your eyes, your face turning red as you realized I wasn't the person you were looking for, "Ah... so... sorry I thought you were someone else!" There was not even time for answering: you had already moved away, standing in front of the shop window a couple of meters from me. The station was filled with people running in all direction, yet that spot in front of the bookshop was only for us; a little island where the time seemed to flow slower, where the nervous haste of those people couldn't reach us. I felt an invisible thread connecting us: we were waiting both for someone, and that someone wasn't there for us. I recalled something I once read: "The life of a punctual man is a hell of undeserved loneliness." That could sum up my whole life, somewhat. But the reality was, you seemed to be the one being late: you had arrived running, I think, because your hair were a little messed up and I could hear a hint of heavy breath when you had talked to me. You were continuously staring at your watch and at the people coming out of the tunnel; your face lighting up each time you thought he was the one, just to get serious when you realized he wasn't. The growing shade of sadness on that beautiful face of yours made me want to speak with you again. Time passed. I had almost forgotten I was waiting for someone too, but I'd arrived early and I knew I would have still to wait long. And you were still there, waiting. Who could have had the courage to abandon such a lady like that? I looked at your image reflected on the window: a tall, slender girl, with short dark hair that left your neck almost naked, the smooth white skin on your bare legs, a short jeans skirt way over your knee and black boots, a white shirt and a purple jacket without sleeves. I couldn't see your eyes, but I still remembered them clearly from a couple of moments before: that light blue with shades of grey I'd always loved in a woman, those long eyelashes, the thin layer of blue and violet makeup you had put on them, probably thinking of that man that was not deserving your attention. I was curious. Why were you so heated up? Were you waiting for a man you had met online you'd actually never seen before? Were you waiting for a childhood friend, you first love maybe, and fearing you would have not recognized him? Why at the station? Why so well dressed? Why late? Why... but no answer would have got answered like that. Now, you should know I'm not the kind of man that easily speaks with women he doesn't know. But we had already spoken, even for a brief moment, and shaken hands too. That, mixed with the growing curiosity, gave me enough courage to cover those few steps separating us. It has been almost half an hour waiting silently together in front of that bookshop, when I made my first step. "Are you waiting for someone, too?" *** That was the beginning of our time together. You explained to me that you had to meet with a friend of a friend, to fetch something as a favour, but you had arrived late; we found out later she'd had some problems and couldn't come: that was my luck. And you were dressed well, just because you are the kind of woman that dress well every day. I just couldn't know that, still. I invited you to drink a coffee and I sent an SMS to tell my friend I'd not be there waiting for him; you had, indeed, caught my attention. We exchanged contacts and we began frequenting each other. You were married at the time; you seemed happy too. Once or twice a month you'd dedicated an evening only to me; we went out to have a beer, a coffee; sometimes to the cinema and even to dance, one time. I was always worried about your husband, asking if he wasn't jealous of me, if you had no problems going out with me every now and then. You always reassured me telling me everything was ok, with that sweet smile of yours. How much I loved the way you smiled. You never opened your lips too much; you often put your hand in front of them in a clumsy attempt to hide your uneasiness, as if you didn't like to show your happiness. But I liked to see your lips and your teeth too, in those rare occasions when you forgot to hide them. There is, in fact, nothing I could say I didn't like of you. I remember our first time. You had come to my apartment to have dinner as you did already a couple of times in the past couple of months, but as soon as I saw you I knew something was wrong: you were crying as I closed the door behind you. I'd never been able to withstand a woman's cry, a sad woman: why should someone cause sadness to such precious and sweet creatures? I hugged you. So tight I thought your thin body would crack. I just felt you needed it. You cried on my shoulder; you sobbed on me until you felt better. Everything I wanted to say was in my hand, gently caressing your hair the whole time. Then you lifted your chin, opened your eyes and laughed when you looked up to yourself in the mirror on the opposite wall: your jacket still on, a boot on the floor and the other one still on you. You were wearing tight jeans that night and a woollen loose tortoise sweater. I don't know if it was you kissing me, or me kissing you, or just our two souls connecting as our lips sealed, as our first kiss became hotter, as we moved from the entrance to the living room, leaving a trail of clothes behind us leading to bedroom. That time, you were intense and passionate. You needed to feel a man loving you with all himself and... I realized too, I was the only one that could do something closer to what you needed. I pushed you on the bed, kissed your lips again, your neck and your breast as my hands roamed on your entire body, caressing your smooth skin, looking for your most sensitive places. But you are a woman: nothing excites you more than your man; and I was your man in that moment, and you, Michelle, my woman. That's what I felt when my hand reached between your legs, and your wetness met my fingertips. That's what I felt when you arched your back, when you lifted your hips to welcome my fingers in you, to show me how much you had waited for this moment, to make me feel it. And ooooh, how much I felt it! I was already hard as a rock when you wrapped your fingers around my cock. We were still kissing, and as such we began making love with our fingers. I could feel your moans in my mouth, your lips sealing on my tongue every time I pushed my fingers in and out of you; your fingers playing with my juices on the tip of my cock, spreading it down on my shaft, cuddling my balls... that night was indeed special. We had waited for long, without actually waiting. The time we had spent together had created a bond stronger than a friendship and yet not love, a bond that had its natural outcome in that moment, pleasing each other without fear, without doubts. I was still lying on you when you pushed your hips higher and guided me inside you. I couldn't even think about wearing a condom, and that was something I always did at the time, with anyone. There was trust, but most of all there was peace of senses, and my mind was completely into yours, and yours into mine, and our bodies connected like that were the most natural of the things. You were so wet that I slid all the way inside you with my first trust, and waited there. The way your breath had stopped it was so sexy: you were screaming into my mouth your satisfaction. You came soon, and so did I. We were so into each other that we rushed, and even if we both came, I was already hoping to get you again. Only later, when you snuggled on my shoulder, as I felt your naked perfect body on mine, your smooth skin bruising against mine, you told me what had happened: your husband, being cold to you since long, yelling at you for minor things, never satisfied with your efforts to be a mom, a wife and a lover, even when coming home tired from work every evening. I admired you so much all that time, for being such a strong woman, that I could have never imagined someone not adoring you. An escalation of events that led to a sense of uneasiness grew up inside you, until you just decided it was time to rebuild your life from scratch: he would have never changed. I agreed with you at that time, not knowing the consequences of my assertion. *** Not more than a couple of months had passed, and we never had another intimate moment like that. Everything was back as it was before, and our affection for each other grew stronger day by day. I don't know if I ever fell in love, really, but I thought our bond was the closest I got to it. Time, when I was with you, simply flew by too fast. That second time you used a petty excuse to invite yourself to have dinner with me; at my apartment. I was expecting, again, a nice, sweet night of cuddles and laughs. And god, was I so wrong! You closed the door yourself, behind your back. I remember you were wearing a black skirt, a white shirt revealing the top of a black lace bra, and high heels. You were taller than me, I thought when you turned around, and I was still thinking it when you kissed me. You played with me with calculated passion. It wasn't a moment of weakness, everything was planned... you wanted me. Soon you were on your knees, unzipping my jeans, pulling down them with expert hands, my still soft cock already in your mouth, your tongue twirling around its tip as it got hard, your head going back and forth, back and forth and my hands guiding you, your hands on my balls, my butt, your fingers looking for my little hole, teasing it as you kept loving my hardness. I looked down and saw your blue eyes looking at me, your sexy lips engulfing my cock. And it was too much... I just groaned and came inside your mouth like that. You didn't leave a drop; you sucked and licked everything with eager, you cleaned me and cuddled me again in your mouth until I got soft and I relaxed. Always, raising your eyes to meet mine, to show me you really meant to do everything you were doing. Everything happened so quickly that we were still at the entrance and I still had my trousers on. You wanted me so badly, I had just felt it. But why? I'm curious, you know, and I couldn't figure out why. Abrupt changes never lead to anything good, and that was obviously an abrupt change: what would have been the payoff? You stood up and kissed me. I could feel my own taste in your mouth, and it felt sexy... just the consequence of the gift you'd just gave me. I undressed you, you undressed me. We didn't speak; I didn't want to ruin everything with my stupid questions... I wanted to enjoy this lust you had for me, until the very last drop. You lay on the bed, spread your legs cheekily in an invite to feast on you, then closed them again; smiling, laughing, teasing me: you knew what I liked to do: how many countless times we had spoken about our sexual tastes without actually do anything together! And those eyes: I could see deep inside of you at the time. You were mine, body and soul, loving me with all yourself... even just for that brief moment. And I was too, my way. The love I can feel for a friend that has become too much, the love falling from the border of friendship to something a little more: that need of having you by my side, more often. I went down on you with the same passion you'd just pleased me: I kissed your breast, small, firm, with little pointy nipples that were already hard with anticipation when I took them into my mouth, licking, sucking and playing with them until I felt your hands pushing my head down. You were trying to be in control, and I didn't mind it at all. I kissed your stomach and I enjoyed the moment when you spread your lips with your fingers, waiting for me to eat you. If I'd known you had such a nice pussy, I'd probably tried to get you before, I must say. I gently touched your clit with the tip of my tongue, closing my eyes to savour the moment at its best: your taste, your scent; but I soon felt your hands on my head again, pulling me to you. You had no intention of waiting, and me neither. I licked and sucked your clit, your lips, shoving my tongue in and out of you, sucking your lips into my mouth just to clean them of your tasty juices, just not to leave any of your taste wasted; you lifted your legs to your shoulders, grabbing them on your knees, and this way I had you completely at my disposition. I tasted everything of you that night: your clit, your juices, your ass... you were just the best I had ever had, and I wanted to enjoy everything of you. You came soon, but this time you had no intention of cuddling. You pushed my head away and again, you stared at me with those lustful eyes. You sat on the bed, kissed me with renewed passion, took my cock in your hand and stroke it. There was no need to turn me on, I was already completely hard and you moaned in my mouth when you felt it. Then smiled and turned around. You knelt on the bed, holding yourself on the headboard, and wiggled your ass to me. I couldn't ask for more: I get on your back and pushed my tip inside of you. You were so wet, so slippery after your orgasm, that when you pushed your hips back to me my cock slid all the way inside you. And I was in heaven: you had a perfect body, and your ass wasn't an exception. I could feel it against me each trust I gave into you, I could feel one of your hands playing with your pussy from below, caressing your clit and my balls all the time, and another orgasm slowly building up inside of you. Your breath got heavier, your moans louder... you seemed now another person, and yet still you. You were now speaking all the time... and words I had never imagined coming out of your mouth. "Fuck me Denis, fuck me harder, yes, like that, yes..." You were in command, simply asking me to please you. "Give me your hard cock, I want to feel it deeper, yes, deeper... give it to me, give it to your Michelle, push it harder in me..." As if your wild passion somewhat infected me, I did something I'd never did before. I took your hair with my hand and pulled your head back, I slapped your ass. You liked it: oh... you liked it so much that you came in that very moment. I felt your body shuddering, your hips pushing uncontrollably against me as you wanted my cock deeper in you. You moaned so loud I hoped my neighbours didn't hear. Just to think a moment later that I actually didn't care. I already had my orgasm and that's why I could resist so long. I wanted to make love to you more; I wanted to get more of you, my Michelle. But I also respected you, and so I just slid my cock out of you as you lay on the bed satisfied. But not exhausted: you turned around; you sit and again, you kissed me. You smiled, took a look at my cock, took it in your hands and spoke to him playfully: "There is still something you have to do, if you don't want to leave your job half-done, little-big Denis!" You gently kissed its tip, then quickly came back to kiss me. "I need you everywhere, I want you everywhere..." And that's still one of the sexiest thing I ever heard from a woman. You lay down, lifted your legs again and took my cock in your hand, and I knew that you really meant it: you slid my tip between your lips, inside your still wet pussy, then out and a little lower. "Take it." My tip slid easily inside your little hole. It was actually my first time having anal sex, I didn't know anything more than what I had read about it, and never had the courage to ask any of my women to try it. I knew I had to be gentle, I knew I had to be slow but... nothing more. It felt good when my tip finally got locked inside you, when I pushed my entire cock inside your ass. Such a new feeling... that hole felt completely different than your pussy: I could feel my cock gently massaged for its entire length, it was so... uniform. That's the only word I could think in that moment: you were giving me uniform pleasure from the tip to the bottom of my cock. I begin trusting your ass slowly, in and out, just a couple of inches, just what I needed to feel waves of pleasure through my entire body. I was hard since long, and very, very sensitive. I had goosebumps. You guided me with your breath, with your moans. I knew when I was doing it right, and when I wasn't. I fucked your ass for long, so long that I couldn't feel your grip on me anymore. I could only feel the pleasure of your insides rubbing me, leading me to my orgasm. You were masturbating furiously, rubbing your clit with all your fingers, sliding them in your pussy so deep I could feel them on my cock, and you were soon crazy again: "Cum Denis, cum in me, fill me with your cum, yes, push it deeper, harder...I want to feel your balls hitting my ass, I want your cock all inside me Denis, I want your cum all inside me..." I don't know if you came that time: your tits bouncing under the force of each of my trusts, your sweat body, your messed up hair and your vacant look fixed somewhere on my face, as if you were completely lost in me, gave me what I needed, what I wanted. I pushed my cock all the way inside you and stopped, groaning while a flow of cum filled your most intimate place, while I kissed your sweaty salty lips locked in the most passionate of our kisses. The bed was a mess: wet in our sweat, cum, juices; but we couldn't care less. I lay on your side and you kissed me, smiling. I had forgotten that uneasiness I'd felt before, I had forgotten everything but your breath, your scent, your sweat naked body against mine. *** You had no intention of going home, that night. You stood up, naked, and went to the bathroom: the silhouette of your naked body from behind reminded me of some famous painting, but I couldn't recall the name or the artist. It wasn't important; I knew that even that picture would have turned pale beside you. I heard you opening the water of the shower and I stood up too. That night, we had not spoken much and it seemed we didn't even need it: we were on the same wavelength. Back to the bed, you snuggled again on me. I was gently caressing your back when you spoke: "I'm in love!" And for a moment I feared you were referring to me. I had no chance of making you happy, I felt that, and I feared I was going to disappoint you so much I'd lose you. You must have felt my hesitancy because you kissed my chest and continued to speak, telling me details of your life I had never known before. It was better and worse than I thought, at the same time: you were going to divorce; you had found another man, and that man lived in another country, and you loved him and you were going to leave in a couple of days: forever; living abroad; afar from me. I was sad, happy, angry and still I remained calm: I knew the etiquette. I had to say how happy I was, that everything will be alright, that... hey, I was really thinking all of that. Really, it wasn't just etiquette; I wasn't lying, Michelle. But I didn't know why, something felt wrong in my happiness. Why such a friendship must be sacrificed for love? That was my thought while your lips kissed my chest, again. My Whole Life Why is she making love to me? That was my thought when your kisses began moving downwards, on my stomach, again, and below. Then I just lost my thread of thoughts when you looked up into my eyes, your lips closing softly on the tip of my cock, your tongue playing with me... you didn't give me a chance to speak. You knelt; you turned your body on me until your knees were on the side of my head, your pussy in front of my lips. All of this, without leaving my cock that was once again getting hard inside your mouth. I remember how many times I told you how perfect you were, but I never actually thought you could be like this. "Why? Why can't I lo-", my thread of thoughts was again interrupted: you were sucking and licking my balls, wrapping my cock with your hand, teasing its tip with your breast, with your hard nipples. And you had lowered your sex on my face, and as soon as I felt your scent I couldn't resist licking you again, shoving my entire tongue in and out of you. Sixty-nine: you know that position was one of my favourite, we had talked about that. Were you doing this for me? No, or at least not only for me. I could feel you were enjoying this as much as I was: I could feel your juices pouring down my chin; I could feel the excitement of your body and of your mind physically on me. Then you did something that was new to me, again. You just shifted your body lower and stood up, until you were kneeling on my hips, showing me your back. You moved your own hips back and forth a couple of times, wetting me with your juices. I could see your back, your ass, and your pussy lips wrapping the length of my shaft, back and forth... until you lifted your body, grabbed my cock and guided it inside of you. We did it like that, our eyes meeting only in the reflex of the mirror placed in front of my bed, without actually watching each other. But I remember your sensual moves, your back arching, your long neck, my hands on your hips, my fingernails scratching your smooth back while I came inside of you, again. I remember when you stood up, slowly, my cum dripping out of your pussy on my cock, sliding down on my balls, between my legs. And you licking me clean again, savouring everything I just gave you, eating me as if it was your last banquet. And it was, of course, of me at least. When we fell asleep, I thought you were special. What we did was special: it wasn't just sex, and as of today, it is still the best sex I ever had. We woke up in the morning, each on our side of the bed. It felt a little awkward, really, as if the intimacy we had the day before had been something awesome but also forbidden. You declined my invite to have breakfast with me and dressed quickly: you were going to leave soon. We didn't speak about what happened at all, that morning, up until the moment you were already standing in front of my apartment door. But I had questions for you: thousands of questions actually, that I somewhat managed to summarise in just one: "Michelle, why did you want to make love to me?" You waited until I opened the door of my apartment. We both knew everything had changed; everything would have changed again in the future. We both knew we may never meet again. Time stopped again as you smiled to me, forgetting to cover your lips. Such a beautiful smile, I'll never forget. "Because I wanted to." Then you turned around and disappeared, before I could notice your eyes turning wet, as mine did. *** Time flows slowly again, since you have gone. I don't know how many days have passed since you left. I don't count them; it would be useless without a date of your return. I know you are trying hard to be happy, and I'm sure you'll be happy soon. You already seemed happier to me, indeed: to decide to change means already moving forward, means rebuilding your future on a white blanket. It means you have a chance to be happy again. You deserve to be happy, I must agree with that. So, I'm happy too: that's what it means to be friend, right? To like you; to think of you; to be happy of your happiness even knowing I'll probably never touch your lips again, even knowing you may forget about me soon. And today, at that very station we met the first time, I'm alone. The same people running back and forth ignoring each other, forgetting that there is a hearth in every single one of them. The same people watching their own life rolling by the window of the train they take every day: every identical day. And I was one of them, I was. Still fifteen minutes to go: I never learn. Here, in front of this old, tiny bookshop, I once again feel the flow of time slowly stopping as I stare at the tunnel waiting for no-one, somewhat hoping you'll come out running from the elevators again, you'll reach out your hand to me with that wonderful, bitter smile of yours and just say: "Hi... have you been waiting for long?"