Uncontrollable

I drove over slowly. It wasn't my normal pace, not even an inch of the six foot frame was exactly sure why I was going, or if I really even wanted to go. I had made the drive many times, but that was five years ago. After she ended it, I was hurt.

Whoever said that love hurts was so wise, and must have been here too....my respect for her at the time made me unable to think of her as lady "and" a slut. My newfound maturity made me realize that she could only comfortably "be" a whore and cum slut, when she's "safe", knowing that I love her so much id never lose respect for her, rather id grow in every way....with her, in her, on her, for her....

When she called out of the blue I was surprised that I wasn't angry. I had grown over time just like she said I needed to. I thought everything was her fault at the time. But now as I hung up the phone I realized she wasn't to blame at all. I wasn't mature enough to handle what she needed. The fifteen years between my 25 and her 40 wasn't the problem. It was the distance between what she wanted and what I was capable of giving her at the time that created a fork in the road that took us in different directions. I had changed, hopefully she hadn't.

As my knuckles softly tapped on her door it hurt. I couldn't even feel the door against my skin, but I felt the end of our relationship come rushing back. I had knocked on that door many times before.

I remember the night she begged me to drop everything and come over because she needed someone. I made love to her that night and held her tightly. That's what she needed. She looked into my blue eyes, and wrapped her body around my very soul. I fell in love with her. She told me that my eyes made her wet. I didn't understand what she meant, but now thinking of her emerald green eyes, I think of the invitation I missed, to touch her soul.

Then there was the morning I pounded on that very door. I was drunk and horny. She let me in and I fucked her like I would never have to look her in the eyes again. I treated her like my little slut, and I didn't care what she thought about it. She loved every minute of it. But I couldn't look at her and know I had MADE her do that.

The slow clicking of her heels brought me back to reality. Click, click, click. Then, a pause at the door. Was she having the same thoughts I was? After what seemed like hours, the door slowly began to open.

She stood in front of me for the first time in 5 years. I had both looked forward to and dreaded this. My eyes immediately found the ground below in a move to avoid the inevitable. As my gaze moved up her slight frame I noticed her boots. Up to the knee black patent leather with stiletto heels. She knew what I liked and she was ready for me. They had the desired effect as my nervousness went away, and my cock began to stiffen.

As my eyes travelled upward I saw her skirt. Plaid, and short. If anyone knew how old she actually was they would have said it was "too" short. She didn't care though. She knew how good she looked in it. How it made her legs look like they went clear up to her neck, and how it clung to her ass like saran wrap. She knew every cock in the room sprang to life when she wore that skirt, and she loved every lingering stare she received. I instantly remembered the way she wrapped those legs around me as I forced my prick deep inside her.

My eyes slowly moved up. She had on a tight white blouse. The buttons were straining ever so slightly against the material. Her tits looked perfect. Not too big. Not too small. Perfect for her body. Under the shirt I could see the outline of a lacy white bra. She always wore expensive bras, and no doubt the one she had on cost more than my whole outfit. I had given her orgasms just by sucking on those nipples...hiding and hardening behind the expensive fabric. I had watched her rub my cum into those breasts enjoying every drop, then kissing me to share our taste. Smiling her evil smile, her dimples deep. My cock could push those out, and hmmm? Nice thought!

My gaze moved over her right shoulder and back to the entry way mirror that had reflected our frantic fucking so many years before. The mirror reflected her ass perfectly. Her ass was impossibly perfect. I had bent her over every piece of furniture in her place and taken her. I couldn't get enough. I still jerked off thinking about how good that ass felt wrapped around my cock. Five years later, she hadn't lost a thing. I knew I wanted that ass pressed against me as I filled her again and again. In and out, in and out, in and out. Harder, deeper, making her scream.

I slowly moved my eyes up to her pretty face. I lingered at her pouty lips. I had never really noticed them in that way before. So full and inviting. So like her tender juicy pussy. Maybe I was lingering because I was afraid to look directly into her eyes, but the time had come. Her eyes were painted with too much makeup. Exactly the way I liked them. My gaze moved higher to the emeralds in her eyes and I looked right inside of her for the first time in years. As soon as our eyes met she had me hooked again. I saw right through the problems and the chemistry was back. We always had it....and it hasn't left now. She knew I was looking at her like a hungry tiger looks at a piece of meat. She knew she could make me do anything she wanted. And she loved every second of it.

Without even inviting me in, she turned slowly and walked through the entryway. The click of her boots on the hardwood floor were the only words spoken. She didn't need to look in the mirror to see if I was following. She left me standing there at the open door with a rock hard cock in my pants.

She walked down the hall. She knew I'd follow her and fuck her like my life depended on it.... when she was ready.

I stepped across the doorway and into my new reality.