0 comments/ 17963 views/ 0 favorites Lost Time By: jjsharshaw They dated only briefly in high school. He took her to the Senior Prom. That was when he first kissed her. She was much shorter than him, her head nestling on his chest, her arms reaching up to his shoulders. It was a slow dance. He bent his head toward hers. She raised her face and offered her small mouth. For him it was a moment frozen in time - one of two moments that evening 25 years ago. Her lips were so soft. Her mouth small and tight, wet and warm. She offered her tongue to him. He sucked it gently then, with a slight moan, she withdrew hers and sucked his into her mouth. He felt light headed. Slowly they disengaged. She rested her head against his chest again and hugged him closer to her body. She felt so wonderful. After dinner, in his lust, he took her to a park and there plied all his desparate charm on her to makeout with him. No. He had been to eager. She took the "high ground"; refused to compromise her virginity. Even petting was a no-no. He was frustrated. She had such an elegant neck and wonderful mouth. In the early morning hours when he took her home, she dashed into the house and asked him to wait by the door. She came back several minutes later in only her slip. She commiserated with his frustration, hugged him to her breast (she was standing on the step above him) and then kissed him on the cheek. That was the second moment frozen in time. She allowed him a feel. Her breasts, though small were high on her chest and nicely firm. The skin of her chest above her slip was so soft, her perfume was so wonderful. He felt light headed again. The prom was on a Saturday night. They were supposed to sit together in church on Sunday morning but he begged off: picnic for the football team. The summer came and they saw very little of each other and exchanged even fewer words. There were none of the wonderful feelings he felt for her though she still had feelings for him. It was clearly his stupid loss. He felt there was something wrong with her. She was to "clingy," to eager to please - though not eager enough to give herself to him. She would have married him had he asked. She would have cooked and cleaned and been the dutiful wife - and as he surmised to late, she would have been the proverbial "whore" in the bedroom. He left town for college. She stayed. It was her senior year of high school but she almost immediately found an older man who physically and mentally abused her. They married, against her family's wishes, immediately after she graduated. She almost immediately got pregnant and had a child. Then a second child. Then Family Services took the children away. He learned she was a mess. Booze, drugs, prostitution. Her older sister told him that she would be a good wife but she needed a good man, a nice man "to give her purpose." Maybe that's what spooked him, her co-dependency. She was with an asshole; a drunk, stupid, beast. Before leaving her alone and homeless, he whored her out to get money for his essentials in life: booze, cigarettes and drugs. But she stayed with this asshole, till he left her. That was 20 years ago. He lost touch with her family. He had nearly forgotten about her except for the times that he remembered that prom night. She spooked him but she also attracted him like a magnet. Like a moth to a flame. There was something about her that he always wanted. What he wasn't quite certain. He knew though, down deep, primally deep, he wanted to possess her. And he realized she would probably allow herself to be possessed. It was his stupid loss. * * * * * He was entertaining a client at a hotel bar when he thought he spotted her going by the bar toward one of the meeting rooms. It was only a fleeting glance but he could swear it was her. His meeting and drinks with the client ended about a half hour later. He left the bar and headed for the conference center of the hotel wondering if he'd really seen her and if he had, then what. The event board in the lobby announced the 25th high school reunion of her school. It was her. And he felt his desires stir almost with a violence. But... At the same time there was a wave of guilt. A tsunami of guilt. He blamed himself for having effectively dumped her. And as a result, his guilt told him, she ended up on the skids, abused and alone. He thought her sister may have blamed him, maybe the whole family blamed him, for her bad life. He could have been "the good man that gave her purpose." And instead he was just a jerk who tried to get lucky on prom night, not looking any farther ahead in time than that night. He looked at the door to the room where the reunion was being held. They had gone to separate schools, he didn't know anyone milling around the door. He frowned in disgust with himself and disappointment and went back to the bar. "You didn't smoke when we were dating." Her voice had deepened slightly with age but it was still delicate, lilting. He squinted through the cloud of smoke he'd just blown out to look at her. She sat beside him. "You do remember me, don't you?" "I've never forgotten." "You have a funny way of showing it," she said with a hint of rebuke but with a smile. "I, uh..." "Really," she laughed quietly, "you don't need to explain. I presume you heard I was pretty messed up after high school. And if you haven't, I was. "Eloped with some asshole right after graduation. He was 25 and I was almost 18. I wanted to please him so much. I would have done anything for him - and I did for the 36 months we were married. To the point that the cops busted him for pushing drugs and pimping me. I was so filthy and malnourished when they arrested us that social services had the prosecutor drop charges against me and got me into a rehab program. "A year's worth of rehab, four years worth of college - I'm a nurse now - and still seeing a shrink; 25 years later and I'm pretty good now. "How about you? Wife, kids?" He sat and looked at her, perhaps stared. She had some lines in her face from the wear and tear of her life but she was still quite beautiful, still desirous. "Uh, a wife, for a while. No kids. I'm in commercial real estate and mortgage banking." She raised her eyebrows, smiled. "Wow." "Yeah, well, it comes with a price. I've been alone for 10 years now." "No dating?" "Occasionally, but you get to my social strata and in my profession - get burned in love, well, you - I - start getting paranoid about relationships. "Besides, I've lived alone so long now, I'm kinda set in my ways." She reached for his pack of cigarettes on the bar, "May I?" "Sure. You didn't smoke when we were dating." She cast him a side long glance, a wry smile, "I didn't do a lot of things when we were dating. I'm a big girl now. "I haven't forgotten about you." "You have a funny way of showing it," he said with a smile. "Is this deja vu all over again?" She winked at him, arched her neck, caressed it, letting her fingers idly slip to her chest and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "You," she poked him in the chest, "were so absolutely horny that night. And I thought I'd make your heart grow fonder by not putting out. I wanted it to be 'special', you know the fantasy. I had no idea that you'd dump me." "Oh, geez. You know, I have lived with a lot of guilt about that night, that summer. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She waved her hand. "It's alright, really. But why? Was it my horribly knobby knees or were you just a jerk who didn't want to date if his girl wouldn't put out?" He felt uncomfortable but nothing ventured, nothing gained. "Well, as a matter of fact, now that you mention it, you did have some pretty scrawny legs. And...you were so 'clingy'..." She laughed, blew another cloud of smoke. "Ah, my shrink calls it co-dependency and she's been trying to 'cure' me for the last 20 years. And she thinks she has suceeded but... "I'd still do absolutely anything to please the right person. Absolutely. Become a whore, let someone abuse me. I know, strange, eh? But, I, uh...I want it, I crave it. It's very, uh, sexual." She put her hand on his. "You still as horny as you were that night?" "Do you want me after all you been through?" "In 1977 I thought you were going to be my husband and we'd have three perfect kids and a nice house. Of course you didn't have a clue; I hadn't gotten around to telling you yet. I just had lousy timing and some mental problems to get out of the way. "I have a room upstairs. Can we pretend it's prom night?" He was a little stunned. All the feelings he felt that night 25 years ago were back with a vengenance. He'd spent 25 years, off and on, thinking about what he would have done with her had she 'put out.' Now she was offering a second chance. He was a little worried. "I have some, uh, strong desires. You might call them kinks. I, uh, don't know whether..." She put her finger to his lips, smiled. "Now don't get freaked, but you have always been my 'right person.' Remember, I said I'd do anything to please the right person. Why don't you give me a try?" * * * * * Their foreplay started slowly, it was tentative, tender. He felt unsure of himself. She didn't want to spook the man she had not forgotten since high school. When she looked up at him and said, "I want to be your whore and I want you to use me," that broke his dam of restraint. He heard her say she had condoms in her purse but he wanted her NOW. "Bareback." He wanted to possess her, not merely play with her. He wanted his sperm in her cunt, her mouth, her ass. He wanted to pull her head back by her hair and bite her neck while he pressed her hard into the mattress, his cock in her cunt. He took her on her back. She was still in her slip. She was slightly dry as he entered her but he pressed inward roughly, feeling slickness at the back of her cunt. He pulled the spaghetti straps of her slip off her shoulders and yanked the top of her slip down exposing her bra. The bra was like the last barrier to the promised land. He felt crazy with lust. He didn't try to unfasten the bra - the barrier - or pull it down, instead he pushed it up over her breasts and fiercely groped them, pulling the nipples hard. She was moaning and then softly cried out as his violence increased. And she laid passively mostly, letting her body move as he moved it purposely or just reacting to his thrusting body mass. His fingers were in her mouth, pressing down on her tongue. She sucked at them as hard as she could. She felt some drool from around his fingers run onto her chin and down her neck. He gripped her chin with his thumb, his fingers still possessing, fucking her mouth and roughly tilted her head back, arching her neck, exposing it. His fingers felt like they were probing for her gag reflex. He fell on her body and started kissing, licking, biting - all the while maintaining thrusts into her cunt. Physically he was much bigger than her. He completely covered her body with his. His weight pressing on her and his cock in her sex felt so divine. As his oral assault on her neck increased he held her with one hand under her jaw line, pressing on her arteries. She knew what he was doing. Time stood still for a fraction of a second and she smiled to herself. She wondered what he would do when she lapsed into unconsciousness. Would he take her mouth? Her ass? Would he hit her? It was if she were out of her body. She heard herself gurgling, her breathing raspy and ragged. Involuntarily she started to struggle against him for air, for blood to her brain. She heard herself pleading in single words and with whimpers and whispers for him to stop. But she didn't want him to stop. She felt her orgasm build rapidly and then peak, as if in slow motion, as her consciousness started to ebb. Dear Sweet Jesus, she loved this feeling. It had been so long. Lost time. He was the right person she thought to herself before there was nothing but feeling and twilight consciousness. * * * * * She awoke to the sound of a ringing cell phone. It was hers. For a moment she didn't know where she was or what had happened. Her jaw, breasts, cunt and ass hurt. There was the very bitter taste of sperm mingled with the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. She was naked under the sheet and she felt wetness around her hips and under her ass. She looked over and saw him lying there. It hadn't been a dream. She answered the phone. He stirred as she spoke on the phone. She hung up and snuggled to him. He put his arm around her shoulder, stroked her face and hair with his thumb. She patted his belly; stroked his semi-flacid, sticky cock. "You ok? I, uh, got a little out of control." he asked, kissing her lightly on the top of her head. "Mmmmmmmm, just fine. Except...you need to change your diet if you're going to make a habit of cumming in my mouth. You are so bitter. And is that your blood or mine I'm tasting?" "Uh, both...I think. You bit me over my collar bone hard enough to draw blood and then I turned you over and raped your ass. After I was done in there I made you clean me with your mouth and since there was no lube and you were...well, that's about all I remember. "So, uh, you're saying you would let me cum in your mouth regularly?" "As often as you want. If you want, that is. I've been alone a lot longer than you." "We'll have to talk some but I don't think I'll be repeating my mistake 25 years ago." "Hmmm, that's good." Lost Time Nineteen days! God, how I'd missed him. Especially at night! I'd become so used to his warmth next to me that I found sleeping difficult without him. I'd lain awake for countless hours regretting my decision not to join him. Again and again, I'd relived our closeness - the way he'd kiss my cheek so softly; the way he can wrap his tongue around my nipples as he draws them into his mouth; the way that, regardless of my mood, he could always make me come, willingly or not! Inevitably, I'd end up masturbating two, three or four times until I was so relaxed I couldn't stop sleep from taking me. Then I'd spend the next few hours dreaming about him... good dreams and bad. The best were full of love and passion, softness and kisses or hardness and lust. And so were the worst of them except that in those, I wasn't his partner. Then I'd wake fearful and stressed - too upset to have any hope of returning to sleep. But no more. He'd just called from the airport before getting on the plane. He'd be mine again in less than four hours. And with his phone promises and my intentions, I was going to make up for lost time. I was going to make sure it was a homecoming to remember. He'd think a hundred times before planning his next 'own space holiday'! I quickly scanned the latest batch of mail in case anything really needed my attention - as opposed to the hundreds a day that didn't, answered two, sent a general distribution note saying that I wouldn't be back today, and logged off. I picked up my mobile phone, reached down for my handbag and swung my chair away from my desk, anxious to leave. You know how sometimes life moves into slow motion? The camera pans the scene frame by frame so that you can catch every minute nuance and detail. This was one of those times! I watched the phone slip from my hand. I observed as it dived intentionally (a perfect "10" without pike) toward the half-finished, long cold cappuccino I'd ordered hours ago as a lunch substitute. Finally, I witnessed phone, cup and contents moving from desk to floor. Damn! Damn! Damn! Real time! I grabbed a handful of tissues from the box I keep on my desk, knelt down and started saving the carpet. "Here, let me do it, Ms Arnold", came an all too familiar voice. It was our cuter than cute office boy, Andy - the kind of young kid you want to take home and feed and... whatever. "It's o.k. Andy. Typical though, the greater the hurry, the less speed and all that". "It's actually 'more haste, less speed' Ms Arnold." "I know that, Andy!" I said with a harshness built out of stress. "The last thing I need right now is an English lesson." "I'm sorry Ms Arnold. I didn't mean..." "That's ok Andy. I didn't mean to snap like that. I was trying to get out of here for a meeting," I said, raising my eyes to see an acute degree of embarrassment engulfing him. Guilt swept over me as I concluded that his discomfort came from my rebuke. But then the light came on. He was embarrassed because I'd caught him! The little devil had had a grandstand view of my cleavage for the last couple of minutes. Worse! He undoubtedly had an even better view of my knickers for my skirt had ridden quite high during my frenetic activity. Oh, God! Worse yet, I realized, as I remembered the lingerie I'd put on that morning. I refuse to wear anything ordinary anyway - believing that if you feel beautiful underneath, you'll positively glow on the outside. But, I'd really excelled myself that morning knowing that the day was special. I'd selected an absolutely spectacular set made from the sheerest white cotton, the bra cut very low and the knickers, cami-style, cut very high and very loose. One of my favourite fantasies - often acted out - is being had while I am still partly or wholly dressed. Cami-knickers are the perfect prop! The trouble was that I'll bet Andy could see a lot more than my knickers! I smiled. What else could I do? It was one of those half-shy, half-embarrassed, 'what do we do next' type of smiles. "Andy, maybe you should get some tissues and help me after all. It's a bit awkward with you up there." "Sorry, Ms Arnold. Sure. Sorry," he mumbled, reaching for the box and kneeling down beside me. With his head down and his eyes on the carpet, I decided to take the opportunity to stand - hopefully with a degree of dignity, and get my skirt down to where it should be. Another mistake! My hemline was now well above Andy's line of sight. As Andy unconsciously followed my movements, it was obvious that he was seeing all that any healthy teenage boy dreamed about! "Andy! Concentrate on the carpet. You're embarrassing me," I said in what I hoped was a stern voice that I didn't really feel. Actually, I was starting to enjoy the situation. It was both hilarious and erotic. Andy was speechless. The mouth was open but the words were frozen. I suspect the blood he needed to make his brain work had all drained to fill his erection! "Get up, Andy. Come on. We've done the best we can. The cleaner will get out anything else. Come on," I said, offering my hand to help him up. He hesitated, overcome with coyness, then took my hand and stood. As I helped him up, I couldn't resist the temptation - I let our hands brush my right breast. I actually felt his arm tense. Cute! He quickly stepped back, strategically dropping both hands, clasping them in front of, what I hoped was, seriously uncomfortable evidence of lust. 'Ok., Andy! It's been fun but I gotta go. We should do it again some time." I gave him one of my better smiles which turned to an easy laugh. "I won't be back today." "Sure Ms Arnold. Is there anything I can do for you while you're gone." "No, Andy. I think we've done as much damage as we can for one day." I watched as his face clouded with confusion. "Only joking, Andy. Smile! See you tomorrow, eh." With that I turned, walked to the elevator, pushed the down button and stared very deliberately at the closed doors in front of me. I knew he hadn't moved an inch and was still watching me. The lift doors opened. Empty, thank God. I stepped in, waited impatiently until the doors had shut and started shaking with laughter. Within an hour, I'd moved from mere mortal to Sex Goddess! A man on a plane threatening endless pleasures tonight and a boy 'creaming his jeans' at the sight of me. I've read that a woman's sensuality peaks when she's about 35. If this was a hint of the future, the next two, three or four years were going to be a lot of fun! Look out World... I am Woman! ### Thankfully, the traffic was light. I tried to concentrate on my driving and not my very communicative body. My nipples, always sensitive, had found every fibre in my bra and converted them to tiny fingers. My "treasure", his name for it, was singing it's own sonata - and I can tell you, it was one hell of a love song! I got home in less than 20 minutes. As always, my babies, Bella and Fonti - both miniature Schnauzers, were all over me with excitement. "Hullo, my little darlings. What have you two terrorists been up to while Mummy's been at work? Did you miss me? Guess who's coming home tonight? Daddy! Yes, Daddy." It was a word they knew so well. After all, he was the one who was always prepared to chase them through the house - despite my protestations; wrestle with them - despite my fears of what a 90 kilogram, 185 cm tall human could do to my 3 and 4 kilogram angels; and put them in their favourite place - the car, even if he was only moving it from the drive to the garage. Yes, Daddy was coming home and all of us were excited! "Come on, I'll give you a treat and then you'll have to let me get ready." I walked into the kitchen, put down my handbag and reached up for their cookies. The action was enough to start my nipples tingling all over again. God, was I horny or what? I gave them each a cookie and watched as they savoured every crumb. "Ok, you two, I want to look prettier tonight than your Dad's ever seen me. He'll never go away without us again, will he? I'm going to take a long bath, get really relaxed, and then find the sexiest clothes I own. Will I give you two a bath too? Would you like that? Bath?" If you ever want to make a mini Schnauzer disappear, that's the magic word. Bath! It works every time. They'd be in the farthest corner of the yard for the next hour! I walked into the bedroom and turned to the wardrobe. I looked at my image reflected in the mirrored doors. I love mirrors. I love to watch myself as I'm being loved. I love to watch my man as I'm loving him. The mirrors let me imagine I'm looking at someone else having a wonderful time while I am too. This whole bedroom wall is all mirrors. I slid back one of the doors and started going through my dresses. It had to be a dress and it had to be a short, sleeveless dress. I wanted him to see as much of me as possible and to know what he'd been missing. Bastard! Yes - that one. Perfect I removed a little black and gold dress that I knew always excited him. It's one of those dresses you can't sit down in. Well, not without causing a sensation, anyway. I laid the dress on the bed and then opened one of my lingerie drawers - the drawer where I keep the best of my very best. I wanted to feel like an offering tonight... the virgin sacrifice. A bit hard in black, I admit, but I wasn't going to change my mind on the dress. I found the perfect set, also black and gold. Both the bra and knickers are see-through and there is a sweet little camisole that pretends to make it all decent. I put those on the bed beside the dress. Then I laid down beside the clothes with my feet still on the floor. I lifted my head to look at myself in the mirror. "Is this what Andy could see," I verbalized as I saw myself exposed, knickers covering almost nothing. I parted my legs a little. "Did I get you all hard, Andy? Could you see a touch of pink, Andy... even a little wetness? Did you like it, Andy? I did! Maybe we will do it again," I admitted to myself. "After all," I continued, "if I'm going to be the virgin offering tonight, shouldn't I also be offered a virgin in return? I assume you are a virgin, Andy?" I let a hand move over my breasts and down over my mound until it found the end of my skirt. Still watching, I moved my knickers aside and felt myself. I was aching to be loved. "Soon!" I promised myself. Still laying down, I unbuttoned my blouse. I watched the girl in the mirror expose her pretty breasts in her pretty bra. I sat up so that I could admire her cleavage. I could see the darkness of her nipples so clearly, so nicely, through the sheer fabric. The girl in the mirror stood, drew down the zipper on her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She stepped out of it and turned side on. "Would Andy like that?" I asked myself as I let the girl in the mirror free her breasts. The bra dropped to join the skirt on the floor. The breasts are full but still sit high, the nipples large and inviting. The girl in the mirror turned back, cupped each breast and then pinched each nipple to hardness. I watched as she moved both hands over her slim hips until they reached her thighs. Her left hand then pulled the fabric aside as the right hand touched the treasure I ached to have touched. I admired the glistening pinkness of her slit as her finger moved slowly along the length of her lips. I watched in fascination as she raised her finger and placed it in my mouth. I could taste her wetness... her essence... her being. And I loved it. "It's time to get ready, my dear," she said to me. "He's coming home, remember? Time to run that bath and prepare the virgin!" I laughed at myself. I laughed at my "Andy fantasy". I laughed knowingly at the girl in the mirror. Tonight I wouldn't need anything but the smell, warmth, lust and love of my man. I moved into the main bathroom and bent to start the bath. I felt the weight of my breasts as they fell forward and thanked my parents, yet again, for the generosity of their gene pool. Without thought I placed a hand over each and marveled at my level of arousal. I straightened. The girl in the mirror pinched her nipples. I watched them darken and harden. Oh, so pretty! I waited until there were about two inches of hot water in the tub and then I adjusted the tap to a warm, gentle flow. I stepped in and lay down. Then I moved my body toward the tap until my legs were following the wall and my treasure was positioned immediately under the tap and it's caressing flow. I parted my lips to fully expose my jewel. Overcome with pleasure, I closed my eyes. Within moments, wave after building wave moved through me. So exquisite. So soft. Yet so demanding and forceful. The water lapped and licked, caressed and cajoled. I rocked, moaned and soared with the explosion. "Thank you, Aquarius, thank you." Still enveloped in thoughts of my man, Andy and other vaguer, but no less sensual images, I edged back from the flow and let the bath continue to fill. "Now, that's one appetizer that'll never spoil my appetite!" I said to the girl in the mirror. She smiled back at me. I've heard some people say that they don't like baths. What is there not to like? I love the way the water draws away the day's toil as it gently cleans my body. I can stay there for hours, occasionally draining some water and adding more hot. But not that day. Time was knocking at the bathroom door. The girl in the mirror watched as I quickly toweled myself, paying extra attention to my under-arms and my treasure. I then used my epilator to make sure I was as smooth as a mannequin. Finally, I stepped into the shower, washed and conditioned my hair and then watched as a mix of conditioner, water and remnant thoughts of Andy escaped through the waste in the floor. Dry once again, I returned to the bedroom. I picked up my lotion and inspected myself in the mirror as I applied it. A perfect virgin with a perfectly hairless body. For a moment I even wondered if I should shave my head. I laughed out loud. It would be fun for a night but I could visualize - all too clearly - the years it would take me to get it back to the length both he and I liked. I reached for my bra and put that on first, followed by the camisole, all the while watching my image. The camisole reached only as far as my hips. My mound stood proudly exposed. I then reached for and pulled on the knickers, then the dress. I never wear tights and this dress was way too short for stockings. I studied, first myself, and then my movements. If I moved 'so', my dress came up high enough to show a hint of knickers. I reached up, as though opening a curtain and saw a dark "V" appear from beneath my dress. I removed my knickers and repeated the charade. My initial reaction was that it was too much, too obvious - hardly the way a virgin would act! But then, he does love it if I go anywhere knickerless! In truth, so do I... the risk of being 'seen' is very stimulating. In fact, at such times I even find myself crossing and uncrossing my legs far more than I usually would. Committed, I returned the knickers to their drawer. I put on a simple gold necklace, bracelet and anklet, my perfume and lipstick and then went out to the kitchen. It was definitely time for a glass of bubbly! I reached up to take a couple of glasses from the shelf. I felt my dress ride up my thighs and then over my bottom. I could visualize the look on his face! "Just my glass for now," I said to myself. "Somehow, I think it will be much more rewarding to get his when he's here!" I was so looking forward to his arrival. To that first kiss. To being held and loved. As if on cue, I head a car pull into the drive. His taxi! The dogs - bath fears forgotten, came careening through the pet door in full howl, ready to protect me from whatever intruder was daring to trespass. I put the still empty glass on the bench and followed them. The three of us stood at the closed door waiting - them ready to kill with loyalty, me with love! I heard the car pull back down the drive and then a shuffle of feet at the entry. I pulled the door wide and froze in disappointment. His face was one magnificent smile, but he wasn't alone! My angels hid my disappointment. They leapt into doggie paradise. Daddy was home and there was also someone they could kill. They didn't know which to do first so settled for leaping, yelping, barking, growling and trying to look threatening all at the same time. "Hi Beautiful! I've sure been missing you. This is Peter. He's Austrian. We met in Kakadu. He wanted to see this part of the country as well, so I've invited him to stay with us for a few days. I hope you don't mind?" All this delivered with that same magnificent, disarmingly boyish smile. He came forward, took my face with the hand that wasn't holding his backpack, kissed me and then stepped past me into the house. Mind? Of course I minded! I minded a lot! In fact, I was outright pissed about it. Away for nineteen days and he arrives with a house-guest! Why would I mind? All my plans for the night ruined. No wild reunion, only a candlelit dinner for three. Mind? Not me. Much! A part of me was still composed enough to acknowledge Peter's greeting - warm and supported by a broad grin. His attention was immediately diverted by my two remaining allies who, I suspect having felt my change of mood, began a mock attack. Peter immediately dropped to his knees and held out his hand to them in a submissive gesture. Puffed with pride over their obvious effect, my allies became instant traitors as they crowded around him. "Oh, that's great!" I exclaimed without thought. Peter looked up at me and then let his eyes move back down my body. Not far, but far enough to make me know that, for the second time that day, I had no more secrets left to share! My hands instinctively pressed my dress against me, as I felt the heat of embarrassment rising but was saved from any further humiliation by a voice calling from inside the house. "Are you two going to come inside or just stand out there and exchange cards?" I reclaimed whatever dignity I could and stepped back from the doorway, hoping my expression looked a lot friendlier than it felt! Peter stood, picked up his bag and stepped into our entry hall. But instead of continuing into the house, he turned to face me. Only inches separated us as he spoke... "He has spoken of nothing but you since we met. Now I understand why. You are magnificent - all of you." Without waiting to see my reaction, he turned and was gone. "Come on Peter, I'll show you where your bedroom is. You can put your stuff away and take a shower while I do some explaining." So! At least he had a conscience! He'd got the message, it seemed. I walked to our bedroom and stood in front of the mirror once more. The girl there was clearly unhappy. She certainly didn't feel "magnificent". In fact, she felt unloved and deserted. Even the dogs were 'out with the boys'! I was wondering what clothes I'd change to when he finally walked through the doorway. I swung around to face him and swung at him in the same movement, managing a pathetic blow to his shoulder. "You bastard! How could you do that? Don't you have any idea of how it's been for me while you've been gone? Jesus Christ! To think I came home early to prepare myself for you. What a waste of time. I should have just stayed at work!" The words and abuse continued as I looked at him through eyes filled with tears of disappointment, disillusionment and rage. Ignoring my blows, he came forward and held me tight against him. Lost Time There was no backing out now. I was already on the freeway, headed for Orange County, my nerves wrought though I did not fully understand the reason. After all, I had never dated Chris in high school when I knew him. We had been nothing more than good friends thrown together because our parents were friends. At the time, I was taller than the cute little surfer boy, I had a boyfriend, and even if I hadn't had one, I doubt that Chris would have ever made a pass at me. Ten years later, our parents had arranged for us to hook up at a bar when I came to visit from out of state. It had been a pleasant surprise, for I had always liked Chris and gotten along with him, but now, I was having second thoughts about all of this, and I felt inexplicably nervous about the way I looked. Not that I had changed all that much since high school. A tad plumper, a little more matured, but for the most part, I was still the same girl he knew. Clad now in black skin tight pants, a top to match, and a simple gray sweater jacket thrown over the ensemble, I knew that I looked good, but in the back of my mind, I wondered if he would think I had become a heifer. Why I should have cared was lost on me. Chris and I had never considered romance, and with one day left in town, I was not about to start considering it, even if both of us were unattached and from all I had heard, he had grown up nice. I found the parking garage all too quickly, and checking my hair in the rear view of the yellow PT Cruiser, I got out and hurried toward the bar. He was waiting for me outside. Taller than me now, and more filled out, Chris looked good. He was dressed in a hooded sweatshirt that hid most of the sleeve tattoos, jeans, and a cap on his closely cropped brown hair, he still had the sweet smile and the cute little face that I remembered so well. His greeting hug was tight and warm, and I found myself giggling as we immediately began to talk about old times. The bar was almost empty at this hour, for it was a week night, and we sat near the entrance, ordering a couple of beers as we began to catch up. I was immediately happy that I showed up. It was as though we had never missed a beat, when in fact we had missed a decade. We talked of old times, what we did after high school, and how we were doing now, discovering along the way that we still had a whole lot in common. We were through our second beer when he suddenly paused mid-sentence and stared at me in a manner that can only be described as appreciative. "You really look great," he finally said, adding quickly, "I have run into girls from high school here and there, and it seems that they all let themselves go. What's your secret?" I laughed, going a little red. "Thanks. I think the key is to pretend you are still eighteen. Obviously, you're doing the same." He smirked, shrugging at the compliment, looking unsure of how he should respond. "I don't know about that, though I am pretty sure that I haven't grown up yet." "Do we really ever?" I asked him. "Neither of us married or had kids. We're hanging out in a bar on a week night, and we're still trying to figure out whether or not our parents were smoking weed together." He laughed. "I don't think that they were." "They sent us outside way too often for me to be convinced," I replied. "I have a good nose for it. I never once smelled it in the house," he insisted, his eyes warm as he gave me a discreet looking over that I would not have noticed had I been a little more buzzed. I had not eaten much earlier, due to nerves, and now two beers had me feeling a tad tipsier than I normally might have, though I was by no means, drunk. "I'm still not convinced. They were too stuck in the 60s at the time." Chris finished his beer, ordering us both another round. "So you are leaving tomorrow?" He changed the subject knowing we would never agree on that fine point regarding our parents. I nodded. "I wish I had more time, but I have to get back to the daily grind in three days," I told him. "Too bad we didn't hook up on your day off. You look beat." He nodded. "I am. I pulled twelve hours today, and I have to do it all over again tomorrow. Such is life." "Well, I won't keep you, even though I told my parents that I might not return with their car until tomorrow," I winked, not sure if that would be construed as outright flirting or not. "I'll let you go home after this beer." "You'll let me? How generous." "I'm nice that way sometimes," I replied with a little grin. And so we worked through the last beer, chatting away about the dumb little things that people talk about when they haven't seen one another in a decade. I did not want to leave, but I knew that Chris needed to make it an early night. The three beers seemed to wash away enough of my initial worry about his thinking I was bovine, and though I was not drunk, I had imbibed just enough to let loose a bit and allow my confidence to show through. I don't know if it was purposeful or not, but when I rose to go to the ladies' room right before we left, I made sure he saw me strut in a way that I knew would get his attention. I was giggling to myself in the bathroom as I told myself that Chris had grown up all too nice, and that it was unfair that I should have to leave tomorrow without having a chance to see him again. We continued to chat casually as we walked out into the parking garage. As a gentleman would, he accompanied me to my car, which by now, was alone on this level save for his own vehicle, four spots away. I unlocked the door. "Chris, I can't tell you how glad I am to have seen you. Thank you." I gave him a tight hug. He did not let go as he squeezed back, his lips near my ear. "I just wish we'd had more time," he replied quietly. "Me too," came my reply, nearly a whisper. How that led to a kiss, I don't know. His lips were soft on mine, and the kiss was brief, but it did not seem to be enough for either of us. The next thing I knew, we were making out sloppily, my back pressed against the Cruiser. "Hope security doesn't drive by," he murmured as his hands slipped under my jacket, sliding up my sides as he peppered my face and neck with little wet kisses. "As long as they keep going," I replied, feeling my arousal keenly as my underwear grew damp. "Mm-hmm," he agreed, reaching a hand to open the car door. He pushed me gently into the driver's seat, moving it back as he dropped to his knees on the concrete. Our eyes met for a brief moment, communicating all that I needed or wanted to know as my face flushed hot. He wanted me, and I wanted him. Nothing was going to stop us right now. His hands slid up my thighs, undoing my pants and dragging them down around my knees. Roughly, he pushed aside the crotch of the lacy, black thong, plunging his face between my legs with little ado. I moaned, his tongue like fire as it swept through the folds of my wet pussy and locked on my clit, suckling at it so that I had to balance myself with a hand on the steering wheel or risk melting into a pile of nothingness. His low murmur, unintelligible, served to send a warm vibration through the area, even as he worked two fingers into the soaked opening. I whimpered, helpless, my other hand reaching around to the back of his head, knocking away the cap and pressing him against me. I knew that the orgasm would come quick. His tongue worked over my clit in a flittering motion that made coherent thought impossible, and his fingers pumped into me with all the patience that his tongue lacked. The contrast in speed was more than I could take, and I felt myself throb around his fingers as I came, panting, near tears, and breathlessly telling him, "Get into this car right now so I can fuck you..." Chris pulled his face away, smiling up at me as I clamored to get into the back seat. He was in right after me, slamming the door shut behind him. The windows were already fogged by the time I got us out of our pants. His cock was rigid as I prepared to mount him, my hand sliding along its length as I straddled him, pressing myself teasingly against the thick head. Oh, I had to have that. Caught up in another deep kiss, tasting myself on his lips and tongue, he grabbed me by the hips and slammed me down onto him, the explosion of heat and pleasure as he filled me almost causing another orgasm. Pumping his hips up in a swift motion, I could not resist but to ride him as hard as I could move my hips, clit rubbing against his dark, soft pubic hair. Our breaths came quick, shallow, and his face was beaded with sweat as I took his cock and made it my own. I was grinding against him hard, hands gripping his strong shoulders, our mouths meeting wetly for panting kisses. His hands took hold of each ass cheek as he moved me on his cock, each grinding thrust harder than the last, my eyes widening and looking deeply into his own as I felt the next orgasm rip through me. He kissed me to muffle my cries as I lost myself in the oblivion that only such an intense orgasm can bring, making him shudder as muscle contracted around his fat cock. He was moaning against my mouth, still thrusting his cock as far as it would go when I felt the second orgasm, a finger teasing, but never entering my ass. "You're going to come in my mouth, Chris," I managed to say. "I need you in my mouth. I need to taste that cock." He smiled through the mixture of extreme pleasure and surprise at my words. "Then you'd better start sucking it now because this is making me crazy and I am about to blow." I slowly pulled myself off of him, his cock wet in my hand as I positioned myself in the backseat to take him into my mouth. I ended up behind the passenger seat, on my knees, draped over one of his legs. My tongue slid upward from his ample balls, teasing over the head of his cock. I could taste myself on him, and it only made me want to feel him spurt in my mouth more. He was trembling as I devoured him. With my head in his hands, he fucked my face, meeting my every downward bob roughly. I took him to the back of my throat, nearly gagging, but each time wanting to feel him there again. "You can't leave town tomorrow..." he was whispering. "It's not fair...oh, dear God..." Chris tensed sharply, and I took him all the way back, my eyes turned to his as his expression became almost startled. I fondled his balls as the first hot spurts of come fired into my mouth, and I swallowed hard, relishing in the taste of him and his writhing beneath me. I languidly licked him clean when he was done, his head tilted back in the seat as he worked to catch his breath. Sweating, hot, and not caring, we kissed, and he held me for what seemed a long time, though we never spoke. Our farewell was a quiet, almost shy one, and we promised to keep in touch, exchanging emails and phone numbers. I was sorry to go. As I drove home that night, I wished I had noticed him in high school. Chris had turned out to be a good person, and in all spheres of being, he had grown up nice. Really nice. I wished that I did not have to go so soon. I wished I could have him one more time, if never again. Perhaps that is what made the encounter so magical, though. Knowing that we might not see one another for ten years brought something out in each of us that might not have come out otherwise. I may never know, and it was too much to ponder as the first song I heard on the radio upon reaching the freeway was Led Zeppelin's "Ten Years Gone."