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.
