Old Friends

I am so wet, again, just thinking about our night together. I smile to myself as I re-read your text, the one that started the wheels turning for me:

"We have to plan to get dinner when I am back."

It was so obviously, so entirely innocent, just a casual note between friends. But somehow, whether it was your intention or not, those few benign words started me fantasizing, planning our encounter. I couldn't help but wonder, now, if things would have turned out the same way if you had known my intentions. Would I have scared you off? But then, of course, it's only women who have that fear, right? Men don't seem to worry quite as much about that sometimes fuzzy line between friend and, well, friend with benefits.

How long had it actually been since we'd seen each other? My god, the number made us both feel old. Twenty years! But only because we happened to be 14-year-olds at the time. And then, a few years back, thanks to the wide reaches of the internet, I had found you again. I remember the somewhat aimless phase I was going through at the time, the one that led me to look up lots of old friends, high school classmates, exes. I guess that's the hope, isn't it - that through each Google search, each new Facebook friend, we better define our own lives - not through the lens of our own dreams and desires, but by comparing our successes and failures against those of others.

The fact that I've thankfully grown past that phase doesn't take away from my joy at once again counting you as a friend. How fun to try to catch up on so many years of lives moving in different directions, ever since that first night we spent together. You haven't forgotten, have you?

That night at high school orchestra camp, when my friend and I, pretending to be 'bad', snuck into your cabin and didn't leave until morning? Nothing happened, of course, given our age and what I've always assumed was an entirely mutual lack of experience. But it's still a vividly fond memory for me: the way you wrapped your fingers through mine; the way we fell asleep next to one another; the way I could smell you on my clothes the next day. I still chuckle when I remember how soundly we both slept, thankfully awakened by our nervous friend early enough in the morning to avoid capture by chaperones.

It wasn't long after that when I moved to another school, and we didn't see each other again until just this past week, twenty years practically to the day. I'd planned out a driving tour of my city - just thirty miles to the south of where we'd both grown up, yet so unknown to you still, given its 'uncool' reputation.

I'd picked the perfect location for our dinner - a soul-food place with live jazz, the kind of music many of my other friends hated, but I knew you'd enjoy. I flirted as we ate, but nothing over the top, holding myself back in spite of the growing wetness and warmth between my legs.

It wasn't until we were back in my car that I made my move. I would have taken advantage of you right there in the parking lot, but it was just a little too crowded for me, even with my exhibitionist tendencies. And so I drove, slowly, to one of my favorite locations in the city, a park boasting both wooded trails and sandy beaches. Ours was the only car in the lot as I parked with a view of the water, just the moon and a few distant lights illuminating the night sky.

"Beautiful," you said, looking first at the view and then at me. I couldn't wait any longer, and without hesitation or an invite on your part, reached over with one hand and began stroking what I found to be a growing bulge in your slacks. Finding no shock in your eyes, I continued, more boldly now, unbuckling my seat belt and bringing my other hand to your crotch as well.

I unbuckled your belt as well, and was pleased when you shifted your position slightly in the seat, sighing beneath my touch as one of my hands found your hardening shaft and the other cupped your balls.

"May I?" I asked you, pausing for the first time for your approval as my fingers found your zipper.

You laughed and nodded, and I grasped the zipper, pulling down hard and fast, before freeing you from your boxers. I was delighted as I felt your full size in my hands - I guessed at least seven inches, and thick enough to truly satisfy.

Feeling your cock pulse with anticipation in my hands, I smiled, then plunged down, taking you fully into my mouth in one smooth motion. I held you there for as long as I could, sucking as I stroked your balls, before finally coming up for air. I then began a smooth, steady stroke up and down, and could feel from your motions that I had found a pleasing pace.

"Oh, god, yes, that's it, Katie!" Your voice started in a whisper, but quickly gained strength, so that you were urging me on with some force now. "You're going to make me cum...."

I pulled away just long enough to respond, my hands maintaining the motions which my mouth had established. "That's it, Mark, cum for me. I'd love a mouth full of your cum."

I dove back down again, picking up my pace now, truly going at it in hopes of bringing you to a quick climax. It was only a minute longer before I felt you begin to reach your peak, your breathing ragged, moaning and writhing beneath me. A few moments later, I was rewarded, your hot, salty cum filling my mouth, rolling slowly down my throat, a wonderfully delicious dessert after our hearty dinner.

I pulled myself up and leaned back in my seat, smiling in response to your broad smile.

"Wow. That. Was. Amazing. Thank you!"

"The pleasure was all mine, Mark. I love to suck cock, and I've been fantasizing about yours ever since I knew you were coming to town."

"Wow, um, I had no idea..."

"That I was such a cock-sucking slut?"

"Yeah... Well, no, just that... Oh, hell with it. Thank you, that's all I have to say!"

"Know what else I like to do?"

"I can only imagine..."

With your full attention in no danger of going elsewhere, I slowly unbuttoned my blouse, then pulled my perfect tits from the cups of my bra. Before I could say or do anything else, your hands were on me, gently cupping and then kneading my breasts, one in each of your big, strong hands.

While your touch was lovely, it wasn't truly what I desired, so I decided to take a risk.

"Do you want to know what I really like, Mark?"

"After that fabulous blow job? Of course, anything!"

"I like it rough. On my tits, on my nipples, please, really, punish them."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now." You hadn't balked yet, and judging by the fact that your cock had already grown hard again, I figured I might just get what I wanted after all.

Tentatively at first, and then gaining in confidence in response to my sighs of pleasure, you began pinching my nipples more and more firmly, alternating that action with the occasional slap, my porcelain-white skin gleaming in the moonlight as it was roughly massaged under your firm touch.

It wasn't long before you found that amazing balance of pain and pleasure, the intense pressure on my nipples seeming to have a direct line of communication with my clit. And it also wasn't long before I wanted more.

"You wanna?"

"Here?"

"No, I have a better idea. Zip up and follow me."

I left my blouse unbuttoned, my tits spilling out of my bra, throwing on a jacket to cover my naked skin, and got out of the car. A quick glance around confirmed what I already knew: the park was deserted. I headed for the beach, you and your erection following quickly behind.

I picked up my pace once I reached the sand, running as fast as I could in the darkness, hoping that you would chase me. You didn't disappoint, catching me after just a few more steps, wrapping your arms around my waist, and pulling me down to the sand.

We wrestled until I had us in the position of my dreams - literally, the position I'd fantasized about - you on your back on the sand, with me straddling you. I pulled up away from you just long enough to once again free your cock from your slacks, pull my short skirt up my thighs to my waist, and push my panties to one side of my dripping-wet pussy.

I could sense your eagerness to press into me, but I suddenly found the patience to make you earn it. I smiled, then nodded my head from right to left, denying you the pleasure of my tight pussy for just a few moments more.

"Please, my tits. Rough."

I pulled off my jacket, balled it up, and placed it under you head as a makeshift pillow. You quickly went to work with both hands, kneading, slapping, pinching, twisting, with more and more intensity, as I rubbed against you, my juices lubricating your rock-hard cock.

I held off as long as I could, but finally could take the anticipation no longer, reaching down and taking you into my hands to guide you into me. We both moaned at the perfectly tight fit, and I held us there for a few moments before I began to ride you.

There was no longer any doubt in your hands. Either this wasn't your first time with a woman who liked it a little rough, or you were simply responding to my obvious satisfaction, but either way, you were good at it. I leaned over to kiss you - our first, I realized at that moment - but after just a brief encounter between our lips, you moved down to my breasts, catching my nipples in a delirious balance of suck and nibble.

This was enough to send me over the edge, and I felt my pussy clench around your cock as I continued to ride you. You began to slow our motions, but I hissed at you through the darkness, "no, no, keep going!" I didn't want the gentlemanly treatment. I wanted to keep riding you through my climax, and for you to keep fucking me until we both came again.

After I'd ridden through my climax, I climbed up off of you, walked a few feet away, and got down on my hands and knees, spreading my legs as I looked back over my shoulder at you. This wasn't subtle, and you quickly followed, standing up, practically running the few steps to reach me, and kneeling behind me, quickly plunging into me from behind.

I pressed back against you with forceful thrusts of my hips several times until you took over the motion, pounding into me, seemingly reaching deeper with each thrust. I put a hand between my legs and fondled your balls whenever I could reach them, and you took one hand and brought it to my now-tender nipples, pinching again and again, once again finding that direct line to my clit that was always capable of pushing me over the edge.

"Yes, Mark, just like that. Fuck me hard, like the dirty little cum slut that I am. You're going to make me cum again, and then I want to taste you once more!"

I just managed to finish speaking before my climax hit, hard and fast. As I gathered my breath a few moments later, I managed to hiss, "Yes, that's it, keep going. Tell me when you're ready!"

"God, Katie, your pussy is so tight, so wet. You're going to make me cummmmmm!"

After a few more furious thrusts, you pulled out of me. I climbed to my knees and turned around to face you as you stood up, stroked your cock a few last times with your hand, and then shot your load into my eager, wide-open mouth.

We took a few moments to pull ourselves together, then walked back to the car, where we enjoyed the view for a few minutes longer before I drove you back to the train station, where you needed to catch the 10:15 back to our hometown.

I'm wet again, just thinking about it. Are you hard? When's your next trip back home?