My Old Hometown

The moment I pulled back and began to fuck her ass with slow steady strokes, Angie's whole body went into convulsions as she came hard. Incoherent moans, gasps and cries escaped her lips as her orgasm washed over her.

She hadn't been lying. Angie was coming hard and fast, and it took all of my willpower to keep from letting my own orgasm go.

At length, Angie got herself somewhat under control, and I gripped her butt as I began to fuck her ass relentlessly. I worked my iron-hard cock in her buttery depths like a steam locomotive, running down the tracks, and Angie worked her hips back and forth in time to my incoming thrusts.

It was truly a fuck for the ages, my hard fat cock in Angie Martin's tight, but pliable rectum, and we soared through the stratosphere of lust.

Angie reached a hand under her body and began to strum her bloated clit like Jerry Garcia on a good night, producing spasms of lust that took her from one climax to another.

Honestly, I counted at least six separate orgasmic twitters from Angie's body as I fucked her ass like a piston engine, and as we hurtled toward a spectacular finish, her head was lolling around and she was babbling like she was in some sort of dementia.

Sweat covered our bodies as I pounded her ass harder and faster, and I could finally feel my control slipping.

As Angie convulsed yet again in a hard, frothing orgasm, I croaked that I was coming, seconds before a white-hot explosion of semen jetted through my cock and spewed out the tip. I basted Angie's bowels in a flood of hot, wet cum, and it felt like my whole soul came out with it.

I just slumped forward onto the bed, our bodies still joined and still twitching in the fiery aftermath of our climax.

Finally, I was drained, but there was something I wanted to see before I passed out from sheer ecstasy and exhaustion.

I rolled to the side, wrenching my cock from Angie's butt, and I felt a tingle roll through me as I saw her cored-open ass, red and swollen, oozing cum out the opening and down over her pussy.

"Wow!" we both said at the same time, and we laughed contentedly at how in tune our minds were in that moment.

We fell asleep, then, and didn't wake up until the noonday sun was shining in her window. We took a long, sensual bath, and I fucked her again right there in the tub, sloshing water all over the floor.

Then we went back to bed and lay for almost an hour giving each other head in a glorious 69 that ended with Angie sucking down whatever cum I had left in my balls.

It wasn't until she had to get ready for work that I finally left her little house and went back to my motel.

I hooked up with Keith Simmons that night, at his sister's house in the city, drank a few beers then returned to the motel for a much-needed rest.

I was tied up with reunion stuff, visiting friends and partying most of the day Friday and Saturday, and I didn't see much of Angie, except for late Saturday night, when a half-dozen or so of us went to the Drifter after the reunion dance was over.

I visited with Angie briefly, but I was too wasted to do anything that night, and we ended up taking the party back to the motel after closing time.

But after I put Keith on a plane Sunday afternoon, I drove back to Elmwood, and spent the rest of the day and all night with Angie, and it was pretty much the same thing as Wednesday night. The sex was intense, and I ended up filling all of her holes with cum.

When I left the next morning to catch my flight back home, Angie cried bitter tears.

"I knew I'd fall in love with you," she said. "I knew it, tried to prevent it, but there it is. You're such a good, decent man, you're the best lover I've ever had, and now you're going back to your life while I'm still here in fucking Elmwood."

"Look, we'll stay in touch and see what happens," I said. "And whatever happens, just remember me, and what we did this weekend. You have an awful lot of love to give, if not to me, then to someone else who's decent and caring. You don't have to settle for second best. Hopefully, this won't be the last time we see each other."

But I knew – we both knew – that it was.

I'd love to say that we kept the spark alive over the miles, and we did in fact write back and forth, and we did talk on the phone quite often.

Over the course of the next year, though, our contacts gradually diminished, and finally we went a month without a call or a letter. One afternoon, however, she called me out of the blue.

After the usual greetings, she told me that she'd met someone, "special," an architect who had moved to Elmwood to work on a new subdivision. She was a little sheepish, like she was disappointing me. I just laughed.

"I'm very happy for you, Angie Baby," I said. "I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you about my new girlfriend."

And we laughed heartily, swapped notes on our love lives and had a very nice conversation. At the end, though, she turned pensive.

"I owe you a lot, Doolin-Dalton," she said. "You showed me something about love, about living for the moment. You came into my life at the precise moment when I needed someone to just love me without strings, without bullshit, without worrying about emotional baggage. I just needed someone to bang the shit out of me without playing mind games, and there you were. You'll always have special place in my heart, Doolin. You're a good man, and you deserve to be happy."

"So do you, Angie Baby, so do you," I said.

And that was it. She married the architect and had a son and a daughter by him. I had met a fellow teacher who had joined the staff that year, a pretty divorcee, and we were married a year later. We have three kids, and I've settled into domestic tranquility.

Angie and I still exchange Christmas cards every year, but that's the extent of our relationship.

But it's enough to give me fond memories of Elmwood, rather than the sad, strained memories I had when I left there originally. That trip was a watershed event in my life, and I owe it all to a lonely old friend and the fires of lust that cleansed our lives and put us on a path to real love.