The Best Erotic Stories.

Long Lost Lovers
by IndianAsian

Chapter One: A Question of Etiquette

Jimmy was drunk, and I was listening patiently as he berated himself for going to a strip club. "Jenny wouldn' understand, y'know? She was pure when I married her. I mean, we were *both* virgins, but.... She's a hell of a woman, Jenny is, a hell of a woman. Takin' care of the kids, y'know, and the home." He looked around at the bored factory workers and the equally bored stripper, then leaned forward conspiratorially. The effect was ruined when he nearly fell over. "Only woman I've ever, y'know." He got his elbow on the table to support himself. "I mean, you've probably been around, but me, I'm, well, I'm a small town guy. Y'know."

I nodded.

"I've never cheated on her, but...well, all I'm saying is, sometimes a guy gets the urge to look. Jenny wouldn't look. I'm the only man she's ever...y'know?" He sat there, blinking. He looked like he was about to weep from the beauty of his wife's purity.

"Why don't we go?" I suggested.

"One more drink," he insisted. "It's a big deal. This' firs' time Jimmy signed with an outta-state comp'ny."

"Why don't we have that drink at home?" I suggested.

"Good idea! Y'meet Jenny. Meet the little woman. She's salt of the earth. Y'r salt of the earth." I flagged down our waitress before everyone in the bar became salt of the earth. Jimmy tried to pay, but I waved him off. He was the client, and I didn't mind. It wasn't my money.

We'd come to the bar in his car, and I drove, handling the big Cutlass clumsily at first. Jimmy fell asleep giving me directions, but I found his home without much trouble.

When I woke him, he made me promise not to tell his wife where we'd been. He actually refused to get out of the car until I promised; I wanted to spit twice and cross my heart. I helped him stumble across the lawn with only a minor mishap--he whacked his toe on a sprinkler head--and I rang the doorbell. He kept repeating, "Sh! Shhh!" while he sorted through his keys, leaning against the door.

He pitched forward when his wife opened the door, and I wasn't quick enough to grab him. He looked up glassily from the floor and said, "Jenny, this's Gil Freeman. Gil, it's my wife, Jenny."

She sighed and then she looked up at me and the sigh caught in her throat. "Hello," she said carefully.

I felt the weight of twenty years, but all I said was, "Hello." Miss Manners, what should I do when I meet a former lover this way?

Back in the seventies, during that time after the gas crisis and before AIDS, there had been a group of us--Robbie, Amber Mandy, the Fox, and me--sprinting around the edges of society in Robbie's beat-up microbus. It was our own portable commune, our shelter against the Me Decade. Robbie was the philosophizer and the glue, Mandy was the perception, the Fox was the driving ambition, and I was the teddy bear. We travelled place to place, setting up for a few months while Robbie and Mandy created sexual performance art in their own ways, and the Fox and I hung around for reasons of our own.

I remember we were in a park the first time I saw Jenny. The Fox's appetite for carnal matters was legendary, and his taste ran to women built on the Playboy model, like Jenny: large-breasted, cute, corn-fed. The only reason I noticed Jenny before the Fox was because he had a woman on his lap who had just discovered that his fly was not closed. (The Fox liked to do it in public places.)

I thought of Jenny as a girl when I saw her, since I pegged her age at eighteen or nineteen (I was all of twenty-one, legal wherever they could sell you booze)--and she was walking an Irish setter. I like Irish setters. I left the Fox to his tumblebunny and made the dog's acquaintance. The girl told me his name was Zeke and hers was Jenny. I told her mine and we chatted.

Jenny was eighteen then, fresh from a small city in Iowa, I don't remember the name, but she was just starting whatever the local college was. She was seething with hormones, a sexual cornucopia waiting to happen. I brought her back to meet everyone else, and we waited to see how she'd get along with Mandy. Mandy approved, and Jenny stayed with us (or we stayed near Jenny) for five or six months, until we were forced onward by the February blahs and the Fox's quest to fuck a woman whose middle name started with Q (he'd already run the alphabet through first and last names).

It took both of us to get Jimmy upstairs and stripped for bed. He was charmingly shy when it came time to remove his trousers, and refused to let either of us watch. Finally he was asleep and we were downstairs in the kitchen drinking instant coffee.

"Well," Jenny said.

"Well," I replied.

"It's been a long time," she said.

"Almost twenty years."

We sat silently, and I compared her with the lithe teenager I'd known twenty years earlier. A little thicker and graying, yes. Still pretty damned attractive. She'd changed her hair to a walnut brown; I rememembered it as chestnut. She wore it short; that looked nicer on her than the standard-issue Farrah-Fawcett-do of the mid-seventies.

"Do you still talk to them? I mean, how are Robbie and the Fox and Mandy, and all of them?"

I shrugged and smiled. "Older. Robbie's still Robbie. Mandy got everything lifted and went to Cancun to live the professional Club Med life. The Fox finally got married, six--no, seven years ago."

She laughed. "The Fox? My God, I thought he'd never get married."

"Neither did he. I was his best man, and he kept turning back to me while she walked up the aisle. He looked like he'd been gaffed." Jenny laughed again. She still had that nice laugh, from deep in the throat.

"What do you do, now?"

"Sales, of all the damned things. Envelopes."

"Oh, God."

I spread my hands. "Everybody needs them. Everybody uses them. You can't kill people with an envelope." I shrugged. "It's a living."

She nodded. "And the bills have to be paid."

"It's shameful," I said, "but I like three squares a day. Not like it used to be."

"God, those were the days."

"Weren't they, though?"

I don't always remember the last time with someone, but I remembered the last time with Jenny: She'd participated in one of Robbie's orchestrated orgies, and she was wrecked, exhausted. I think she'd just finished four essays or something; it was February. I rescued her when I discovered she'd fainted under two other girls and the man they were blowing. I carried her up to the loft where the bath and the sleeping bed were and I laid her in the tub. I tried to undo the nipple clamps, but they were too slippery with come. Finally I took the plastic showerhead for washing hair and hosed her down.

I unfastened all the clamps--nipples, labia, elbows, ears--and stripped off her rubber gloves and boots. I checked her for dildoes and other insertions, anal and vaginal, and filled the tub with warm water and bath oil. Threads of semen floated off her as the water rose.

After a half hour, she was just asleep. I woke her enough to dry her and put her in the big sleeping bed. The sleeping bed was my rule; I insisted that everyone had to have a place to go where there was no pressure to perform.

I tucked her in and she took hold of my arm. "Don't go," she murmured. I stripped to my underwear and lay beside her, and she moulded herself to me. We both fell asleep. I woke in the night to find that my shorts were gone and she was astride me, flopped forward against my chest, her head nuzzled against mine. Her hips moved up and down, riding me gently. I don't know how long we performed like that, but she slowed and shuddered several times. Downstairs, I could hear the susurrus of orgy.

At last Jenny pushed herself upright and tossed back her head. She pumped up and down the full length of my cock, keeping me in only by my foreskin. Unlike every other time we'd had sex, she was silent; we made no sound except for the whispering of moist skin against skin. I was almost detached from what was going on, just the instrument of her pleasure; I watched her breasts move as she rode me. She gave a long sigh, and I thought we were finished when she lay down on me. Her nipples were cool and soft against my chest.

Instead, she tugged gently, and we both rolled over, keeping my cock inside her, and settled into the old-fashioned missionary position. "Hold me," she whispered. "Come inside me."

I didn't last very long; after only a couple of dozen strokes I came with surprising force.

We lay there for some time, listening to our heartbeats. Finally she kissed me and asked me to be a dear and fetch her clothes. She was still wobbly when she tried to dress, so I drove her back to her residence in her car.

Once there, I had no way home but to walk. Jenny invited me to spend the night, but I sensed that her time with us had ended, and I'm no good with good-byes. I scratched Zeke behind the ears and walked back to the loft.

Mandy noticed Jenny was gone, but she said nothing. Mandy knew when to be quiet.

"Thank you," Jenny said. "For helping with George." She played with her coffee spoon. "He doesn't drink that much, normally. Only when he goes off to the strip clubs."

I smiled. "He doesn't think you know about that."

She shrugged. "You learn things about your husband, and one of the things you learn is which lies are important."

"Like your virginity," I said.

"What?"

"He said you were a virgin when you got married."

"Oh. I hoped--" She started again, explaining: "I didn't mean to lie. It just seemed so important to him, and it didn't matter to me--"

I held up my hands. "I wasn't criticising." I stood up. I had barely touched my coffee. "I should go. It's late, and I've got clients to see in the morning.

She seemed grateful, and nervous, and she walked me to the door. I stopped after I put on my jacket and asked her, "Whatever happened to Zeke, anyway?"

She laughed. "Zeke! Oh my God, I'd forgotten about Zeke!" Her hand went to her cheek. "He died in his sleep. He lived a long, good life. I miss him still sometimes."

"He was one of the good ones."

She said quietly, "So were you." I was embarrassed, I don't know why.

We looked at each other for a long time. A lot of things flashed into my mind: the solid rhythmic weight of Jenny on my hips; Robbie's fussy voice as he directed someone; the sound of Jenny's laugh; the musty smell of the tarps in the back of the microbus; all the time on the road and all the strangers, all the time; how Jenny had said good-bye and I hadn't, and how cold it had been walking home; and her husband, sleeping upstairs. Part of me said, What the hell, so I leaned forward and kissed her good-bye.

She returned the kiss, staying with me when I pulled back, pressing her body against mine. We didn't break the kiss but stayed like that. Her tongue was urgent, forceful. I could taste coffee and Amaretto in her mouth. There was that stirring of my cock, that awareness, that hadn't been present for the strippers or (it seemed) for a long time. I wrapped my arms around her, the warm solid sweetness of her, and hugged her tightly. She bit gently on my tongue, and I withdrew it, her tongue following mine. I heard, or thought I heard, a sound from upstairs. I pulled my head back; she leaned hers forward to follow but I broke free.

I tried a smile. "Whew."

She moved away from me and sat on the edge of an end table by the coat rack. "How long are you in town?"

"All month," I told her. "I'm using this as my base for the month."

"Maybe we could have coffee. A breakfast or lunch or something."

"Maybe." I could see the clean line of her neck and shoulders, the weight of her breasts under her blouse, the curve of her calves. I wondered what she looked like naked, now. "Jenny," I said.

"Yes?" she asked.

I paused. To be honest, I was listening for noises from upstairs. She uncrossed her legs, and I wanted to tear her clothes off. Instead, I said, "Jenny, I don't play with clients' wives. It's a fairness thing."

"I don't cheat on my husband. We'll have coffee." She grinned. "It's an old times thing."

I nodded and I left. I didn't even shake her hand.

I didn't expect her to call me for coffee, and if she did, I wasn't going to accept. Playing around with a client or a client's wife is trouble. But in my hotel room the next night, I found myself thinking about her. I flipped through channels on the television, discovered I was seriously thinking about the porn movies, and grabbed the Yellow Pages phone book off the nightstand. I opened it to the Escorts section, then shut it again.

Damn it, I didn't want a pro. And I didn't want to go to the bar and sift through the teases and the tarts.

Finally, I picked up the phone and called Mandy in Cancun; I didn't know what time it was there. She picked up the phone on the fourth ring.

"Hey, Mandy," I said.

"Gil?" Nice to know she still recognized my voice. "Where are you?"

I told her. "Mandy, I hate to do this, but I need a favor."

I heard her murmuring to someone at her end, and there was a rustling sound. I heard a door shut. "I sent Marco to get some K-Y. He's been desperate to get into my ass."

"Hope I'm not causing any problems."

"No, it was time I said yes anyway. What's your problem, sweetie?"

I told her about Jenny, and said, "Betts, I'm lonely. Who do we know in town?"

"For a good therapeutic fuck?" Long silence. "You can't glue a broken heart with jism, Gil. You just can't."

"My heart's not broken, Betts. I just don't have the patience for the bar scene tonight, and I can't put a hooker on the company card." She sighed. "Please," I said.

She sighed again. "Peggy Parks. You be nice to her," Mandy told me. "Remember there's two of you in bed."

"You're starting to talk in platitudes, Betts." She grumbled and gave me Peggy's phone number. "Thanks," I told her. "And hey--don't be a tight-ass."

"That'd spoil Marco's fun."

Peggy was blonde and slim and handsome in blue stretch pullover and black denims. After we ate at a nice Thai place, we went back to her place and chatted. She worked as a property assessor and taught fitness classes three times a week. She'd met Mandy at Club Med a few years earlier. "I still write Mandy sometimes," she said. "Well, I haven't written for a year I guess, but it still counts if I mean to, doesn't it?"

"I think so," I told her. "I don't see Mandy very often, but I think of us as friends."

"Uh-huh. Some people, you know them for years but you never know them. Others, you meet them and you've known them all your life." I agreed. Peggy made a toast--"To friends"--and we drained our glasses. She got up to pour more drinks: another daquiri for her and another club soda for me.

"How come you don't drink?" she asked.

I shrugged and brushed my fingers against hers as I took the glass from her. Her fingers were startlingly warm; the glass was cold and slick with condensation. "Used to have a problem with it. So I gave it up."

Peggy sat next to me. "I know how that goes. I had a boyfriend for a while, claimed I was a sex addict. So I gave it up."

"Really?"

"Yes," Peggy said. "I gave him up right then." She had a big wide smile, lots of teeth. "My problem with booze," she said, "is the calories. You know how many calories there are in three daquiris?" She paused meaningfully.

"No," I told her. "How many?" Her leg was firm and muscular, solid against mine. I could still leave; I didn't have to sleep with this woman. On the other hand, that was why I was here.

"A lot," she said, still smiling. "Thousands." And that was the cue.

"Thousands?" I gave her a grin and a wink. "You'll have to work that off."

Peggy's smile got bigger and she leaned forward. "I thought you'd never ask." Her eyes were mismatched, I noticed: one blue and one hazel. She closed her eyes to kiss me. I leaned into the kiss, ran my fingers along her spine to the nape of her neck, stroked her behind the ears. She moaned softly into my mouth as her tongue explored. I liked the way she smelled.

Peggy shifted her weight and pressed against me. I fell backwards onto the couch. "That's okay," she said. She scraped a fingernail along my fly before opening my pants. My cock was starting to swell, and with one warm finger she pulled it free.

Her mouth was warm and liquid over the head. She sucked my cock into her mouth, playing with the foreskin until my cock was too large and too stiff for that. She bobbed up and down, not deep-throating me but tasting me and exploring my cock with her tongue. I fumbled with her top, pulling it up but not pulling it off, unwilling to break the marvellous connection between her mouth and my cock.

"My God...." I murmured.

She lifted up her head and smiled at me. "You like?"

I brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen across her eyes. "I like very much."

"Never had a guy who wasn't circumcised, before. I like it." She wrapped her small hard hand around my cock and pumped slowly a couple of times. She bent down again and licked the tip. "I hope you don't come too soon."

"I'll do what I can," I told her, and pulled off her top. Her breasts were small and conical with dark and compact nipples. I cupped one breast in my hand; the nipple slipped between two fingers and I squeezed it gently. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, then tugged on my pants. We spent a moment sorting out clothing, and suddenly I was naked and Peggy was wearing only her jeans.

I stood with her and we embraced, touching each other along the lengths of our bodies, the head of my cock pressed against the base of her sternum, and we kissed some more. I traced her jawline with my tongue, sucked her earlobe, and blew in her ear. She shivered and reached for my nipples. She pinched and fondled them until they were as hard as her own.

Still holding her tightly against me, I slid down her body, kissing and nipping warm tender flesh. I took one hard nipple into my mouth and swirled my tongue around it, then licked the pebbled tip of the other, then blew gently on the first one again. I nipped at the underside of one breast and circled her navel with my tongue.

I undid the button of her jeans and pulled; there was a loud tearing noise. "Sorry," Peggy said. "Velcro. My zipper broke, and I thought I'd try--"

"I like it," I told her. "It lets me get"--I pulled down her jeans--"*here* that much faster." Her underpants had a floral pattern, and her pubic hair had been trimmed short and shaved to a narrow strip. I mouthed her mound, tasting her through the cotton.

"Don't," she said, and skinned off her panties. "Don't eat me yet, Gil. I come so hard I'm no good for anything else. I want you to fuck me first, then you can make me come." She took hold of my cock and began to walk backwards, pulling me towards her bedroom. "I want this cock in my cunt. I want you to fuck me hard with this lovely stiff cock." She giggled as she fell backwards onto the bed, her legs spread. "Or you could fuck me stiff with this lovely hard cock."

I shuffled forward on my knees. "I'm going to fuck you, lovely, with this stiff hard cock." I placed the head of my cock between her swollen lips and thrust forward, sliding my cock along the length of her lips, wetting it. She was very wet. I thrust again, and again; she moaned each time my cock rubbed her clit.

"Fuck me," she said.

I pushed the head down so it was at her entrance and I thrust again. She was so wet the head popped in easily. She gasped. I pulled back slightly, feeling my foreskin slide, and thrust again, pushing myself halfway into her.

"Oh god," she said. "Oh god oh god." She was panting, and her eyebrows were knit together. "Fuck me--" She squeezed her eyes shut.

I pushed a third time and sank my cock almost all the way in. With the last thrust, I was buried in her, my pubic bone pressed heavily against her clit, my cock engulfed in her warmth and wetness.

And a funny thing happened: Peggy came. She gasped and then forgot to breathe; her arms and legs spasmed and her hips thrashed once, twice, sliding down and up my cock. I froze. I'd never had a woman come with so little cause before.

Peggy tried to speak but all that came out was a little mewling sound. I adjusted my weight and stroked my cock in and out. She gave a few gasping breaths and then opened her eyes. After another moment, she focussed on me. "Oh Jesus. Oh, Gil...I've never...your cock is just.... Oh God."

I withdrew almost all the way; she grabbed my ass and tried to keep me in. I began to tease her with just the head, in-out-in-out-in-out and she gave a little grunt each time the head popped in, a little catch each time it pulled out. Her fingers clamped tightly on my ass and I suddenly drove my full length into her, then all the way out, long hard fast strokes. She rotated her hips, thrusting back at me, and suddenly she came again.

We tried a half-dozen positions before she was too exhausted to move, and finally she just lay there and moaned, "Please...I can't...." She looked so weak and spent that I didn't have the heart to just keep pumping until I came.

I lay beside her while she dozed. I felt tired. Unsatisfied. Frustrated and used. Distantly amused that she had used me instead of the other way around. After an hour she woke up and traced a finger along the side of my face. "Hi there," she said.

"Hi."

"That was...incredible. I mean, it was never like that before. Not even on drugs or anything."

"I'm glad."

She reached down for my cock and began to play with it. "It's not even that *big*. Sorry, I don't mean that the way it sounds, it's not small, it's even bigger than average, but it's not huge. I've had really big cocks and I didn't come like *that*." She cupped my balls in her hand and gently probed my asshole with one finger. "I don't suppose you could leave it when you go?"

My cock was starting to get hard again; after all, I hadn't come yet. "I don't think so. You'll just have to take advantage of it while it's here."

Peggy was all lean body and eager flexibility. I went back to the hotel at dawn, exhausted and still frustrated.

When Jenny phoned two nights later, I said yes.
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