The Reunion

Maybe she also had doubts on her side, maybe she wasn't aware how I lost all my resistance power against her.

But still.

I wasn't the one who could suggest anything. I was the one who was going to accept whatever she wanted.

On the other hand, I hoped she didn't suggest anything. I preferred to feel bad that night, instead of feeling worse the next days.

"Here, this one." she said. This was her house when we were dating.

"Oh, are they still living here? That's so cool." I was talking just to talk, just to extend her presence a bit.

"Yes. But they are out of town for two days."

Why did she say that? I know that this could be a normal thing to say but I panicked. My mind was full of wrong ideas.

She watched my stupid expression for a few seconds. Probably enjoyed my panic.

Was it bad? That she sensed my vulnerability for her? Would it encourage her to exploit that?

Maybe it was good. She would know I wasn't comfortable at the moment. So, she could change her mind if she was planning to...

"Oh, don't look at me like that. Ok, come up. Let's have another glass."

Did she think I was waiting for her to invite me? Did my stupid expression look like that? I panicked more. I didn't know what she had in mind. I had to talk.

"Is it a good idea? I mean taking a risk? I mean, if..."

She was looking at me, without showing any emotions. I couldn't understand how she became that cool.

"What risk?"

"We drank too much. My mind is not in the right place at the moment. You're confusing me. I mean..." 'I mean, I mean. What do you mean, moron?' I thought to myself.

"I'm used to such feelings. That's your problem."

"What is my problem?" When I was asking that, I was confused even more. She wasn't surprised to hear that I was confused about her. She didn't even care. Did she know? Or, could she be that confident of herself?

"You're the married one, I'm free as a bird. And I can't fall in love with you more, since I never stopped loving you."

This was somewhat flattering but also alarming. She didn't say that nothing would happen. I had no say in that if I got upstairs. If she had any hesitation, I removed any gray areas by my stupid words.

And I didn't feel the love in her voice.

My mind was racing. She looked incredibly attractive that night. I was trying to remind myself that the next morning she was going to be in her old sweatpants and unattractive but funny clothes, her hair tied over her head. As her sweet, not-sexy self.

Probably she wasn't going to wear such a dress or hot nylons like those, for months. Heels? I could bet she borrowed them.

Yes, I grew some superficial interests on the way, the package was important for me.

But her boldness? That didn't look temporary. And it was exciting.

I knew I had to leave but I couldn't. Maybe because how I had been feeling for her all the time; maybe because of my attraction to this almost new woman. She was worth the risk.

I acted as if we didn't have this last conversation "One drink it is."

I still remember how I felt when she was opening the door. How I wanted to hug her from behind and kiss her exposed neck. I knew by then, it was a bad idea to go there, after drinking that much. On the other hand, after drinking that much, I didn't care as I should.

While we were sitting in her living room, she asked me about my work, told me about hers.

She didn't go into detail about my marriage but she didn't look like she steered away from that subject. Her comfort was confusing me a lot.

The only subject she didn't disclose was about her plans when she would return. I asked but she didn't tell me her decision criteria on where to live. I didn't want to make assumptions or insist on learning, you can guess why.

When I was trying to convince myself to leave, she showed me the bottle, with the remaining bourbon in it.

"Let's finish this if you like."

I smiled; she refilled my glass. And then she gave me an eye candy when she was fixing us some music.

She turned to me; outfacing me, slowly took off one of her shoes while balancing herself holding the back of a chair. I didn't know what made me shiver more. That look or the way she was taking her shoe off.

I don't know why but I always found women doing that alluring. I mean removing the heels when standing. There's something very powerful and hot in that. When you add that look on this, I lost any kind of remaining power of resistance.

Anyway, while I was watching her in a mesmerized mood, the music started and she said "Come. I want to dance."

That made me notice how I refrained from listening to this song since then. When Terence Trent's 'Sign your name' started, I was back in those days.

"Shall I take off my shoes?" I asked when she was removing the other one. I was feeling like that timid high school kid again.

"No, just don't step on my toes. My feet hurt."

I slowly stood up and moved towards her. The music was pulling me back in time, filling me with pure love, while arousal was making me dizzy.

I held her hand and she was in my arms. When we started moving, the smell of her hair filled my nostrils, her hand caressing my neck gave me chills, her body leaning on mine made me feel hot; not just horny, physically hot.

I was still thinking that it would not be fair.

To my wife, if I cheated her like this, even if I wasn't sure if she would care much.

To Meg, if I couldn't stop myself and destroyed all those memories for one evening of lust.

But, at this point, there was no turning back. At least not for me. That was the first time that night, I just wished things moved forward. She was burning me in her arms.

And she looked at me. From a few inches distance. Before she slowly kissed me.

Everything was a blur after that. We were making out, still dancing to that heart gripping music. The music which reminded me many memories of her.

I was just kissing her. Not that I was trying to behave, it was enough for me at the moment. Many beautiful sensations were coming back alive.

But she held my hand and moved it lower. In a minute, I was holding and groping her beautiful, innocent tushy with love.

Then she started to unbutton my shirt. She was determined to go for it.

For a second, I felt like we exchanged our ordinary roles. I was the sweet one with pure love, while she was...

She broke the kiss, let my shirt go, held my hand and started to walk to her room. It was still Meg's bedroom. She kissed me one more time before pushing me on her bed.

The bed I never experienced anything in before. I was way too timid back then; I almost never came to her place. Maybe once or twice.

She didn't let me get lost in memories. She climbed over me, mounted me and her lips were on mine once again.

I wasn't getting enough of this. When she stopped, I couldn't. I kissed her face, neck, nose. My eyes couldn't adjust to the dark yet, I couldn't see her face or expression clearly. I knew that was her, my first love. On the other hand, whatever I was experiencing made me feel like I was with a completely different, strange woman.

I was assuming that she was enjoying my kisses as much as I did but she abruptly raised her head, slowly moved forward on her knees and towered over my face.

This was incredible. I loved selfish sexual acts of dominant women. I wasn't expecting such a move from my sweet Meg. She was never a demanding or a selfish person, I loved how she was confidently increasing her control over me.

I caressed and hugged her legs, kissed her nylon covered thighs. My hands were moving along her legs, her soft heels, soles. I too, forgot about love at the moment, I was in lust.

My eyes were starting to get used to dark, I could see her light-colored panties above my face. Probably she could see me too, sensing my anticipation. When my eyes were focused on her crotch area, she slowly lowered herself a bit, offering me what I was craving for.

I didn't linger. I raised my head as much as I could, to show her I appreciated her favor.

I started kissing and smelling her mound over her panties. For me, there was a treasure behind that soft fabric. One that I wondered and dreamt of for a year, thirty years ago. That was the first time I was going to see it. That was the first time I was that close to her pussy. Which had an addictive fragrance.

I wasn't kissing her mound like a rabid dog, I was gentle, still savoring every moment, knowing that it belonged to her.

She was probably observing and verifying my pure, gentle love for her. My unmistakable answer to her question. Without showing any of her sensations to me. She was just watching me.

And the more she acted this way, I was falling for her more.

Then, the unbelievable happened. She slid her panties aside and slowly lowered herself completely, without giving me a chance to observe the sight. I couldn't see anything but it was shaven. I understood that when she pushed it on my mouth.

She wasn't timid, she wasn't sweet. She was selfishly taking what she wanted.

I was lost there.

Tasting, smelling her, licking and trying my best to give her the pleasure she was entitled to. Not to show her I was good at it. Just to pleasure her. Her pleasure was the only thing that mattered at that moment.

But it was hard to believe what I was doing to her. It was unreal that she was making me do this, just like that. When she slowly started to grind herself on my face, I was hugging her legs and buttocks, pulling her, feeling her delicate muscles making those sexy movements in my palms.

She silently came but kept on moving, until she was satisfied.

I was climbing the walls when she slowly moved aside and started to kiss me gently. I needed her soft touch as well; that was also fantastic but I was too horny to linger.

Just when I was getting ready to move over her, she said "That was a great finale for a great night. Don't you think?"

I froze.

"I guess it's time for you to leave now."

"You're joking, right?"

"No. As I said. I'm free as a bird. But I don't let married men fuck me. Excuse my French."

She said 'fuck'! Meg used such a word!

"How is that different than what we just did?"

"For me, it is. I told you it was your problem."

I couldn't believe what she was saying, how she was talking to me. I never talked to any woman like that after I was done, not even to the trashiest ones.

I wasn't ready to go. I didn't want to go.

Then the nasty thoughts filled my mind.

"W-what if I didn't talk to change your mind tonight? Were you going to bring Matt here?"

"That's none of your business."

She was never insensitive like that, not back then, not ever. This was beyond insensitive, this was distant, cruel. But I wasn't in a place to make analysis. I was focused on that subject.

"Let's say you would. Were you going to let him in your bed? Go further? I mean further than..."

"He's not married. He's also free, like a lone wolf. If I let such a man in my bed, I don't think he would leave without taking what he wanted."

I was speechless. Was he a 'man' in her eyes? It was unbelievable that she called that hyena a wolf.

I couldn't see her expression clearly enough; I was trying to understand if she was saying this to hurt me or...

"You're serious."

"Of course I am. Otherwise why would I send you like this? I'm already horny again."

Her words were repeating in my head 'She was going to take him to this bed, knowing that it wasn't possible for her to stop him... Wait, what?' I forgot the main issue.

"You are?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

My head was spinning. I was jealous, horny and still hungry for that taste.

"Let me. I mean, again. You know..." I wasn't thinking.

"Oh, it would be unfair."

"I don't care. I want to."

She didn't respond.

"I need to, please." What was I saying? But...

I could see what she did, clearly enough.

"If you need to..." and she slowly parted her legs. This sight and how she 'let me pleasure her again' haunted me for the next week but at the moment I was slowly crawling in between her legs, like a mindless animal. I wanted to do that more than anything. I wanted it much more when my lips touched her pussy.

I took my time.

Started to kiss her legs, moved to her thighs, her stomach, her lips. I spent half an hour just kissing her and her body. I didn't want this to end soon.

Then she raised her waist and started to remove her panties. That was my cue to start. My time was running out. I guess my romantic feelings weren't reciprocated.

She wanted her orgasm.

This time she let me enjoy it. I kissed and kissed her pussy, smelled and kissed every part of her crotch before and during I ate her pussy. I wanted her more each second. She had an irresistible taste, she smelled good. And when she started that gyrating action, which was very hot, I held her buttocks and her back with my hands and arms. I raised her waist to let her grind her pussy on my face in comfort.

She exploited my considerate gesture harshly, until she came in my mouth. I sucked and sucked. I still didn't want this to end. I could do that all night.

When she was done, she pushed my head away, still recovering from that orgasm. I attempted to kiss her pussy again but she pushed me with her foot on my shoulder. I hugged her foot and kissed it. I went back to her legs, kissed them down to her feet again, showing her how I adored anything about her, including her sweet, girly feet. She was watching me, probably curiously enjoying to see how worshipping her made me hornier. She was lying on her back, leaning to her headboard, doing nothing and I was getting more addicted to her each second.

When I moved up to kiss her, she rolled aside and stood up.

"I told you. If you get me horny, you will have to do this all over again."

She was blocking all my ways; she was determined to leave me high and dry. I didn't care.

"I can do this forever. Please. Just let me."

"No. You have to leave. I will come again next weekend, maybe we talk then."

"Tomorrow?"

"Sorry, I already made plans."

This could be the first time in my life that I felt that worthless.

Love of my life did that to me. I felt used and I worried about her thoughts about me.

She let me kiss her briefly when she was seeing me out at the door. She was still in that dress and nylons, her hair wasn't that perfect. She looked even sexier.

On my way back home, I was still thinking about her, instead of worrying about my wife. I hoped she wasn't awake when I realized that. She would definitely smell her perfume and other things.

Then, I wondered whether this would count as cheating or not. I didn't even get a chance to take my clothes off there.

I cleaned up before I went to bed.

It wasn't that bad the next morning. I was happy that I wasn't caught or interrogated by my wife Claire.

After my fear disappeared, I couldn't help but compare her to Meg when I was looking at her.

Of course, I was fair enough not to take the dress and outfits into consideration. Especially those nylons. They were a faint shade of green and they looked very hot with that dress.

I just compared 'comparable parts'. I guess their legs were both great. Feet, both pretty and sweet.

In fact, I noticed that my wife didn't show her age too. I was almost satisfied thinking that I didn't make a grave error in my choices in life. My wife was also a hottie. At least, if she was a stranger, she could turn me on too.

But in the afternoon, another comparison came to mind. This time I didn't omit anything.

After 30 years, someone with a never-ending sweet love for me, who was the most decent and sentimental person I knew, practically took me home, dragged me to her bed to fuck my face.

On top of that, she 'let' me eat her pussy one more time, after making me plead for it. After declaring that she wasn't going to have sex with me.

And when she was satisfied, she kicked me out telling me that was enough. Right after I begged her to let me go down on her again.

I still don't remember anyone, any occasion to compare with that. It was devastating that the girl I broke up with because she was 'only marriage material' used me in the sexiest and most one-sided, most selfish encounter of my life. Of all people, she was the one I wouldn't expect to see behave me like that.

Then I thought about Claire. Even in our early times, my wife - and me, that wasn't her fault only - had sex as the normal part of the cycle. We never had shocking ups and downs; it was always 'Ok'. Until it became rare.

And after countless arguments, it became non-existent. I'm not saying that any of those were because of her.

When we first started to date, I thought she was a selfish woman. And superficial. Those seemed like sexy characteristics at that time. I thought these would keep me horny all the time. After we got married, I understood I was right, she was selfish and superficial. But not in a sexy way.

Again, I believed that there was no other alternative in a marriage. Love or what you thought that was love fades away, you get used to living a mediocre relationship. One year of fun, rest of your life together under contract. That was what I thought about all marriages.

That day didn't change my thoughts, I believed it wouldn't have been much different with Meg. I mean if I married her.

I wasn't that sure about the 'new' Meg but I still thought that it had been that exciting mostly because it was only a single incident and it was forbidden. And of course, I returned home with empty hands. I can't say I spent the night with an empty mouth though.

But, long story short, I was feeling alive first time after a very long period.

I was also wondering if this was about that night's mood; by 'this', I mean how she acted.

But it had to be just the opposite, if that was the case. Who kicks the love of her life out after only satisfying herself? Who doesn't crave filling in all the blanks of an unfinished love?

Confusing.

Anyway, assuming that she left, that there was nothing I could do about her, the week was almost fine. Almost, because every woman in heels, nylons or that had dark short-ish hair over her shoulders reminded me of that night. And her, of course.

It was funny that I saw her looking like that only once but she managed to be 'every such woman' in my perception.

When the weekend was approaching, my situation got worse. I wasn't even sure that it was a good idea to see her again. Even if it didn't feel possible to resist that idea, I believed that it would be too soon.

I already got away with a few scratches in my marital psychology and the logical thing to do would be to stay far from her. Probably, it would be easier for me, if we had sex that night. I could say that a 30-year cold case was closed somehow, mutually satisfying both of us.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't thinking that there was a balance that had to be set right.

Just the opposite.

I always found those demanding women hot. Something about how they acted selfish when they wanted something. How they could stop sympathizing the person they were with. Even acting cruel, when they sensed any kind of weakness or if they understood that they could dominate the situation or the person.

Such women always fascinated me. This was the first incident that I encountered with one. The one which was just the opposite of that, as I knew.

That's why it was a bit hard for me to get her out of my mind. Besides, I probably lost my 'special' status in her eyes that night, which was hard to swallow for me.

And, the magnitude of that turn on. Without relief. Seeing her open her legs like that when she understood she had me in her palm. Those weren't easy to ignore. Those made me want her, to serve her pussy again and to experience that awkward feeling. Even the possibility of returning home with full balls again wasn't enough to cool me down.