Long Time No See

Dedicated to Dawn, who shared the idea with me and for whom the story was originally written.

Sometimes you never know how things will go when you reconnect with an old flame after a long lapse. It depends, of course, on how things end—if they end badly, then reconnecting can be rocky, but then again, if they ended badly, why would you want to reconnect at all? But if things don't end badly, if circumstances force you to part or something else happens that brings great love (or great sex) to an end prematurely, then reconnecting can be surprisingly wonderful. It can, in fact, be as if you'd never parted, and if the sex happened to be great back then ...

I hadn't seen Dee in about seven years. We'd known each other in grad school, and spent many a "study night" over the course of a year and a half screwing each other's brains out on my desk, her desk, her bed, her bathtub, my shower ... well, you get the idea. But she'd spent her last year of school working and studying abroad, and when school was done she had a job offer up there that was too good to turn down. So we said our fond farewells, promised to keep in touch via email, and eventually we both moved on to other partners.

The memories of our nights never faded, however; her oral technique in particular, and the sweetness of her taste and the sounds she would make when I would go down on her until her juices were running down the sides of my mouth, were the stuff of many thoughts and fantasies on lonely nights and even nights that weren't so lonely.

So when her photo and profile popped up under "People You May Know" when I joined a particular social networking site and started connecting with other friends from the grad school days, immediately my thoughts turned to those wild nights. I sent her email before adding her—seven years is a long time; and a lot can change, so I wanted to be respectful. But while I waited the rest of the day for a reply I kept imagining her mouth around my cock, the way she would stroke me with her hand while sucking on my tip, looking up at me and wordlessly commanding me to explode down her throat, or the way we'd go out sometimes and she wouldn't be wearing underwear, and she'd dare me to slip my hand up her skirt to feel how wet she was just at the thought of foreplay in a crowded restaurant or club ... it's tough to even think the word "respectful" when your other thoughts run along those lines.

The response didn't take long, and it was everything I could have hoped for. The years hadn't changed her bawdy sense of humor, her flirtatiousness, the sensual energy I could feel just from what she'd say and how she said it. Turned out she was even back in town, living not far from me at all, and we were setting up the details for dinner and drinks.

As tough as it was to have gentlemanly thoughts before I'd heard from her, it was even more difficult once I saw her walk into the restaurant to meet me. Long, fiery red hair falling down around her smiling face and inviting neck, a thin-strapped black cocktail dress with a plunging v-neckline accentuating her curves, the hem falling just above the knees I'd loved to have thrown over my shoulders in days gone by, and stiletto heels that had to be at least three inches clicking on the floor as she crossed the distance between us ... I'm fairly certain I didn't breathe until she stepped into my arms to hug me and whispered in my ear, "Hey stranger. I guess you like the dress."

We sat down in a corner booth, she across from me, and to be honest, I don't remember a whole lot about what we talked about, because despite my best efforts, my eyes kept drifting down her neckline to the space between her breasts. The dress made wearing a bra simply impossible, and she was playing up that fact as much as possible, providing a feast for my eyes. If she was doing it consciously, or if she knew where my eyes kept focusing, she made no sign, save for the occasional hint of a smirk that would play across her lips whenever I lost my train of thought in mid-sentence.

After a few glasses of wine and the last of the dinner plates were gone, she excused herself to go to the ladies' room, and I finally had the opportunity to not so subtly reach down and adjust (and rub) the front of my slacks, which felt horribly constraining in that moment. As badly as I wanted every inch of her wrapped around every inch of me, I didn't want to assume she was just ready to head back to my place or hers and jump right in the sack—as suggestive as she'd been all night, I didn't want to draw the wrong conclusion and piss her off. Just take it easy, I told myself. Take a deep breath, suck down some ice water, and just find out what she'd like to do.

When she came back, instead of resuming her seat across from me, she sat down right next to me, slid right up against, put my arm around her shoulder, and her leg up over mine, in my lap. Before I could say anything, she took my other hand and gently slid it up her dress, guiding my fingertips along her inner thigh.

"I really miss the things you used to do to me," she whispered in my ear. "When I got your email, it was all I could think about." She drew my hand further up, and confirmed what I'd been hoping was the case all night.

"You must have known I wouldn't wear any! Touch me."

Fearful that someone would spot us, but too turned on to stop, I let the tips of my fingers trace the shape of her labia from bottom to top, pressing just slightly between them to dip into her wetness before sliding them up to her clitoral hood, rubbing all the wetness they'd collected in a tiny, slow repeating circle.

She never took her eyes off me, just kept smiling and talking-the only sign that she was enjoying what I was doing being her voice dropping lower, becoming breathier. Meanwhile her hand had found its way to my lap, and had begun to rub the front of my crotch with the palm of her hand.

Finally, the teasing must have reached her limit, "Let's go."

"Where to?"

"Somewhere you can lick me and then fuck me, of course. Right now, your car is sounding pretty damn good to me."

And then we were off to the car, and honest to God I thought we were almost sprinting. I opened her door and helped her inside, then hustled over to my side and slid in.

There she was in my passenger's seat, dress hiked up over her hips, her right leg up on the dashboard, spreading herself wide and inviting me to devour her. But she'd been in control of this whole night, and now that I was sure we were both in full-on lust mode, it was time to take a little control back.

"Mmmmm, soon. I have a particular place in mind now." I pulled the car out of the parking lot and drove us out for aways, under a cloudless night and a bright moon towards the ocean. We drove over a bridge that seemed a lot longer than it usually does because she wasn't wasting time during the drive. She'd slouched down into the seat, her leg still up on the dashboard, her hand between her legs, rubbing her clit with all four fingers. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her face the picture of pleasure as she built herself up closer and closer to climax.

"Save some for me. We're almost there."

"There's plenty here for you, baby. I'm going to drown you in it."

Once we were off the bridge, I pulled the car over to the side of the road. The beach and the ocean were in sight on one side of us, the roadway and cars speeding by on the other. I got out first, went over to her side, and led her out toward the front of the car. Taking hold of her by the hips, I lifted her up onto the hood of the car, her dress still bunched up over her hips, placed myself between her legs and kissed her mouth hard, pouring all the anticipation I'd felt all night along with all the lust she'd inspired in so many memories and fantasies over the past seven years into my mouth on hers. She kissed back hungrily, her tongue sliding around mine in her mouth. She pushed her body into me, her bare pussy rubbing against the front of my pants and the throbbing that lay beneath them. But before I gave her that, I wanted a taste of what I'd been feeling with my fingertips earlier, what I'd been watching her play with through the entire drive to the bridge.

Taking hold of her shoulders, I pushed her back until she was laying on the hood, and pulled her hips toward me, until her thighs were up against my shoulders. I turned my head to kiss down her leg from her feet, still in those incredibly sexy stilettos, down to the center of her desire. The moment my tongue touched her labia, she gasped, and as I dragged my tongue up from bottom to top, letting the tip part her lips and press inside, she exhaled in a long, deep moan.

As much as I wanted to take my time, I was hungry for her—seven years worth of hunger. I brought my hand up above my mouth and used my thumb and forefinger to hold apart her lips and reveal her clit to me. Darting my tongue over and around it, I could hear her breath quicken and her moans grow more insistent. Thanks to all the playing she'd done in the car, she was already close. I covered her clit with my mouth, drew the soft, wet flesh between my lips and sucked hard, drawing it back toward my throat, before releasing it and swirling my tongue over and over it, again and again. I felt her hips start to undulate under my mouth—she felt desperate to keep feeling my tongue against her clit, and I gave her what she wanted, punctuated by sucking on that clit as though I was drawing breath from it.

All that time I went down on her, cars flew by us, never slowing, never once even honking or acknowledging that we were sating our hunger for all to see. I wondered briefly if that would change once I started fucking her, and in that moment, when it felt like she was about to unleash a wave of cum all over my face, I decided it was time to find out.

Tearing myself away from her, I hurriedly unbuttoned and dropped my pants and boxers to around my knees, pulled her by the hips to my pelvis, and sank my cock deep inside that pussy I'd only felt in dreams for so very long. She let out a cry as I entered her, holding her legs by the ankles to my chest, those stiletto heels now on either side of my head. At that point I let the lust take over completely, and I thrust into her over and over, relishing the feeling of her pussy spasming, squeezing around my cock as I fucked her through the orgasm I'd built with my tongue, not pausing for a second to let her catch her breath. She didn't want me to either; instead, she urged me on, commanding me to fuck her and make her come again, saying she wanted to soak my cock with her juices.

In and out my cock moved, and after a while I pushed her ankles apart so I could reach down and rub my thumb over her clit as I fucked her pussy. This pushed her over the edge again—her hands flailed for something to hold on to on the car as the wave hit, and she cried out for all the world to hear. Mine was getting close—her pussy feeling that way was something I could resist only for so long. But there was one last thing I wanted to do.

When her orgasm had subsided, I pulled out from her and helped her down from the hood. I kissed her briefly before turning her around and bending her over the hood of the car. Pushing her legs apart, I took a quick moment to admire the beautiful things stiletto heels do to a woman's calves, legs, and ass when she's bent over. Whoever invented the damned things probably wasn't in heaven if he got to enjoy the fruits of his labors the way I was, but for all the pleasure they've given us guys, if we could all vote him in, I think we would!

Taking hold of her hips with one hand, my cock with the other, I guided myself back into her sopping wet pussy, pushing in to the hilt. She let another long moan and pushed her ass back against me. Both my hands on her hips now, I held her in place while I fucked her from behind, my thighs slapping against the backs of her, my balls tapping against her clit. She felt glorious, wrapped around me that way, and I never wanted it to end, but pure need, the need to cum, had taken over, and I couldn't slow down.

I reached forward with one hand and took hold of a handful of her hair, I gripped her that way as I quickened my pace, and her moans and cries grew louder and more frenzied. Each time my cock was fully inside her, she squeezed, milking me, and soon I could feel the tug at my scrotum, and the throbbing in my shaft that told me the point of no return was approaching at ninety miles an hour.

"You're about to cum," she said between moans. She felt it too—she had a good memory. "Please, baby. Give me your cock. I want you to cum in my mouth. I want it all down my throat, please, please ..."

I'd dreamt of that mouth almost as much as I'd dreamt of that pussy all those years, so I wasn't about to refuse. I pulled free from her just in time, and she turned, squatted in front of me, and took the whole of my cock into her mouth, my tip touching the back of her throat, her hand cupping my balls, fondling them briefly before she pulled her mouth back enough for her hand to take hold of the base and stroke me into her mouth. That was the trigger, and with a loud groan I exploded down her throat, more and more cum racing out of me as she continued to stroke. I heard a contented "mmmm" coming from down there as the corners of my vision started to go dark, and my knees came close to buckling.

Absolutely. Fucking. Amazing.

And not a single car had stopped, honked, or even slowed down. Guess the voyeurs were all at home that night. Too bad for them.