The Re-Union

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Would-be lovers meet at a high school Reunion.
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Having studiously avoided reunions in the past, I think a lot of people were shocked to see me walk in the door 27 years after graduating. Why the change of heart? I had made friends with a lot of my old acquaintances from school. Some were friends; some were close friends, some I did not know at all. But thanks to Facebook our lives intertwined again and had become truly close to some of them. It was important to meet in person after this long absence and perhaps more importantly there was one particular face I was yearning to see; someone special who brought a richness and warmth into my life that had been absent for so long and after many years we were going to meet again.

Walking through the door memories came flooding back and I immediately bumped into two close friends. Little known fact was I was the captain of the Field Hockey team my senior year, and Bill Thomas and Simon Brady kindly remembered. We had a good time reminiscing about the team. Bill had come up from Florida and like me, did not bring his wife with him. Both Bill and Simon looked like they were in their mid-fifties and could not believe that I still played and bicycled. Of course Bill was one of the guys who was buying beer senior year because he looked old enough, time caught up with him. Still he had not lost any of his charm and a small group of the single women were hovering near to us as we talked.

The conversation wound down and I broke off to refresh my drink furtively looking around to see if I could spot my special friend. Two of the women who were on the peripheral of my conversation with Bill and Simon followed me.

"Hey Paul!" called out one, whose name escaped me.

"Yes," I replied, "Lovely to see you again after all this time." Crap! What was her name? A quick glance at her name tag told me it was Linda? That's not right....

"How have you been Linda?" I said gathering my wits.

"Great! My first time back in ten years," she answered, "How about you?"

"It is my first time back- ever!" I reply.

"Well you have not changed a bit! I see you are married, do you have kids?"

"Yes, a boy (16 years old, god help me) and a girl (10 years old), how about you?"

"I have three kids, two are in College and one is a junior in High School. We live in Chicago."

"Long way to come..."

"Yes- and my husband is working." She saw me glance at her left hand and smiled. "It is not what you think. My hand was swollen, I took the ring off. I have been happily married for 23 years."

"Congratulations! I think you might want to take some of that tin foil from the buffet and fashion something to put on your finger unless you want to get hit on all night!"

It was just like old times. Linda and I would tease each other mercilessly as we shared 3 common classes back in the day. She was easy to talk to, smart, pretty. We were good friends, but there were no sparks. Friends, that's it. And it would stay that way. We both got drinks, and then she peeled off to talk to her High School sweetheart, Bob. I am getting anxious that you may not have come but I continuing scanning the floor.

Out of the corner of my eye I see you walking towards the bar. You are wearing a floral print dress that provides ample opportunity to show your considerable cleavage. The dress sways in time to your hips as you approach the bar. Your hair is curly and cut shorter than when we were younger but the simmering sexiness of your voluptuous shape has not changed. Twenty-eight years has done nothing to dampen my response to you and my pulse quickens with anticipation, breathing a little shallower. You are wearing high heeled shoes which put a minor dent in the height difference between us and crane your neck as I reach down to kiss you on both cheeks.

"Hello gorgeous!" I say with more confidence than I felt.

"Hello Paul! I see you made it!"

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure, surprise me!"

I had just finished an insipid red wine (what do they know about wine in this part of the country, this people are beer drinkers!) and so I ordered two glasses of top shelf champagne. Only the best will do.

"Are we celebrating something?" you have a twinkle in your eye.

"Absolutely! Long, lasting friendships!" I reply. I lean into you daring myself to push further and whisper into your ear heart pounding so loud that you must surely hear it."And hot lovers."

My breath is warm and sweet. The closeness of my lips to your ear makes you tingle. If you turn your head slightly my lips would brush your ear. But you refrain from such a gesture. You beam a smile back at me. Partly in agreement and partly because my presence makes you tingle in anticipation.

"Friendships." you echo.

We walk next to each other, keeping a respectful distance although my hand is shaking slightly from the adrenaline coursing through my body. No one would suspect anything. We sat down with Marcie and her husband Nick, although I would rather lock you in a room for the next 20 years and make up for lost time. There was the usual small talk about the kids, her work, Nick's work, NASA and so forth. After 15 minutes the conversation peters out and my sense of yearning has grown stronger with each passing minute at the table.

"I am going to get some fresh air." You say and walk towards the entrance.

"Can I get you refills?" I say to Nick and Marcie.

"No thanks, I have had my limit!" Marcie laughs and then shoots a glance over to Nick as if to say, "You've had enough too".

I get up and traverse the crowd that is busting their moves to Simple Minds, "Don't you forget about me." At the bar I order 2 more champagnes and slip out the back door.

It is a warm and muggy evening and I spot you sitting in chair by the pool. The pool is deserted and some of the lights are out, creating patches of darkness along the perimeter.

"Here is a re-fill," I offer the extra glass.

You take the glass and sip. The cool bubbles explode in your mouth filling you with a soft sweetness. You feel the alcohol intensifying your desires as it evaporates through the roof of your mouth into your brain.

"Are your feet sore sweetie?" I ask. You have one leg propped up on the chaise next to us and the heels are longer than you are used to wearing. It looks sexy but must be hell on the feet and ankles. "Give me your foot."

You place your right foot in my lap. I slip off your shoe and start massaging your toes and the balls of your feet. Now this felt good! You feel the dull ache leave your foot as I work each toe and the arches of your foot. I take the other foot and by the time I am done, you are jello in the chair.

"Want to go back inside?" I ask as a kiss your foot through the black stocking. You wiggle your toes a little and the dress has ridden up a little bit giving me clear view of our thighs. So tempting and enticing! I look over to a dark area in the corner where the lights were out and with a twinkle in my eye I beckon you to follow me. You leave your shoes off and carry them over to the recliner. I sit next to you and intertwine my fingers with yours. There are butterflies churning in your stomach as you inhale my sweet scent and feel my warmth close to you. We both lean in and kiss on the lips. It is soft and lazy. I can smell the flowers of the garden mingled with your perfume. The kiss is over and I look into your eyes for a second, searching.

I lean back in and we kiss again. This time the kiss is harder- lips pressing, tongues dancing in our mouths. I bring my other hand up and put it behind your neck pushing into my lips harder. You head is swimming with the touch of my lips, the blazing heat from our closeness- a passion and desire that yearns to be satisfied.

You untangle your hand from mine and bring it up to stroke my cheeks. With my free hand I reach across and cup your breast. I can feel you heart beating, its pace increasing as I a caress and explore. You nipples are erect and I start playing with them. Your hand slowly makes its way down from my face to my chest, tummy and then pants. You are savoring the intimacy of the touch through the material of my shirt. You lean in again, your eyes ablaze with desire and press your hands into my chest, feeling my erect nipples through material. I lean in, enjoying the warmth coming from your hands and the pressure of your lips. I press back harder, passion ignited- I want you. Now.

Your hands slide down to my pants and have no problem finding the raging erection. I moan in pleasure as you find the head and start massaging it. It is one of the things you know that I love and you have become an expert at pleasuring me this way. Your head is now in my lap and you are mouthing my cock through the material and milking it with your hand.

One hand is still caressing your large, voluptuous breasts and I love feeling their fullness- such a turn on. I slide my other hand up the back of your leg. My touch is stoking the now raging inferno between your legs. Your clit is thrumming, demanding attention while you pussy has soaked through your stockings and moisture has collected under your butt. My hand reaches its final destination. I debate teasing you, but I don't. I slide my hand underneath the material and along the cheeks of your butt. You shift slightly wondering which hole I am going to enter. You don't care which one at this point, "Just enter me. Please. Don't make me beg."

I slide 2 fingers into your soaking pussy and push them quickly to the third knuckle. You are panting and writhing against my hand. I slip a third finger into your pussy for a couple of moments. It is tight and uncomfortable and you splay your legs wider. You like 2 fingers not three. I withdraw the third finger and then massage your other hole using the moisture on my finger. I gentle insert it into the dark tight hole and start pushing it into your butt.

I can feel your pussy contracting as you start a series of rolling orgasms. You are clenching tightly on my finger and I crook it to massage you in that secret sexy place. Your ministrations on my cock have all but ceased. Your breathing is ragged, your heart is racing, your clit throbbing, your pussy is gushing and on fire. You are sobbing and shuddering with pleasure. You grind my hand as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure crashes over your body. My hand is soaked, the air is filled with the scent of lust. Just when you think the edge is coming off the waves, I curve my fingers to massage your G-spot.

This time there is no gentle build-up. It hits you hard. You roll back onto your back, dress riding high, legs up to your chest giving me complete access to you pleasure centers. My hand is trapped, but the 3 fingers work their magic. I want to suck you off, but I don't want to interrupt and take the time to pull down your stockings. I bend down and find your erect clit through the wet material and start mouthing it. I suck it into my mouth and squeeze it between my lips, gumming your sensitive, erect love bud. The feeling is so intense, you pussy is squirting juice with each contraction and I love the scent and taste as it drips through your stockings.

"Oh please stop...it is too much," You moan. I withdraw my hand and squat next to the chaise watching you. Your eyes are closed as you rock and quiver, enjoying the final throes of this shattering experience. I gently stroke your arm, but you are only dimly aware of the contact while your senses enjoy the waves of gentle lapping joy in your head. After what seems like an eternity the sounds of the party inside permeate into our collective consciousness. You feel like you could spend the rest of the evening on the chair but you know you can't.

You are purring as I stroke you, so content and secure. I take a handkerchief from my pocket and gently lower your stockings so I can clean you up. Once my ministrations are complete, I stand up and hold out my hand. I help you up and we walk out holding hands; not into the main hall but to my car where the drive to my hotel suite will be short and the night will be long.

I am yours and you are mine. Forever.

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SpiritogreSpiritogrealmost 13 years ago
Nicely written

Nicely written.

It shows exactly why I don't like reunions or spouses to meet old lovers.

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