A Brief Moment
The memory of her burns still in my mind, the clarity untouched by the time that has passed since last we were in each other’s arms. Though we are still connected our lives have gone in different directions, but the memory of our time together has resisted time’s tarnishing effect.
We started as nothing, peers in the awkward phase of life that are typically called “the teens”. Thrust together by the capricious fates who conspired to place us together.
I can tell you that the first time I saw her was, perhaps, anticlimactic. The heavens failed to part, the angels forgot to sing, but if you had told me that then I would not have heard you. Looking back with the wisdom bought and paid for with time and experience I know that she must have had the same doubts, the same insecurities that the rest of us had. All of us struggled to figure out who we were, what we wanted, we struggled to find the beauty in ourselves as we grew into bodies more adult than we were ready for. But her… she seemed different. While I must have seemed like an awkward colt still growing into its body she seemed to radiate confidence. Us lesser mortals plodded along in the mud while she never seemed to touch the ground, as much a part of heaven as of earth.
I never asked what her first impression of me was, scared perhaps to know the answer. At first, she treated me with the boundless kindness that she seemed to show everyone, but over time we grew to be friends. As days turned to weeks, and weeks to months I expected my infatuation with her to ebb as it had with so many young crushes, but the time we spent together only deepened my affection. The seed that had been planted grew in leaps and bounds and I quickly came to value every scrap of time that I could scrape out with her.
Alas, though things went well time is fleeting and nothing lasts forever. With the completion of our schooling, we moved off into the world, ready to try our hand at playing adult. Contact was sparse for a time, both of us living our separate lives, but she never truly left my mind. Many were the times that I railed against my foolishness for not making a move when I still had the chance. Not yet the confident adult I would someday become I had sailed away from any opportunity to share the depth of my feelings convinced that her heart must irretrievably belong to another and that my advances would be spurned, a fate I did not think my fragile heart could have born. I cursed myself as a fool.
But Luck? Sometimes it favors the fool, and I will take lucky over good any day.
A Second Chance
By chance, our paths cross again and flames not yet extinguished were kindled anew. Many were the messages sent in the deep hours of the night, and long were hours stolen just to be with her. And even if her company was mere words on a screen it was enough, for a time. This time, when opportunity knocked, I was ready.
When all was said and done we were together in all the ways that mattered, all the ways that I had yearned for as an awkward teen in love. While our time was brief, with but a single night spent between us, every moment has remained etched into me, the ferocity of our connection seared into my very being.
When I think back to that night there are so many things that come to me, but above everything is the memory of her eyes, and someone much wiser than myself once said that “eyes are the windows to the soul” and truer words are hard to find.
Her eyes, it had always been her eyes. From the start, it had not been her body, though soft and full of tantalizing secrets, it had not been her laugh, though full of beauty and kindness, it had not even been her mind sharp and inquisitive as it was. No, from the start it had been her eyes. Deep wells bore a hue the color of rich soil soft and rich and filled with the unspoken need to nurture and care. I had never stood a chance, the first time I had looked into her eyes my fate had been sealed.
On that night, she had come to me, appearing in my home like a dream made flesh, though time had passed since the last time we were together the years apart had only added to her beauty. Time and life had conspired to transform the young woman I had last seen into a mother, the nurturing promise of her soul fulfilled. While some are diminished when they bring another into this world, the experience taking something from them in payment, she was not. The soft lines of the young woman I had known had blossomed into the lush curves that only motherhood can provide.
I did my best, as she stood before me, to memorize every detail, my eyes drinking her in with the same fervor with which a drowning man clings to the hand of a rescuer. Luxuriant hair the color fresh obsidian fell upon her exposed shoulders and framed the same heart-shaped face that had so often filled my dreams.
From the moment she came in time seemed to twist in on itself, alternating between standing still and leaping forward. One moment we stood before the open front door of my apartment and the next we were sitting together on the couch, engaging in the pretense of watching a movie. Time started jumping forward and in a flash, the distance between us vanished. Time slowed as she leaned against me, my hand instinctively moving to brush a stay hair away from her face, before standing still all together as our eyes locked.
I could not tell you now, standing on the outside of that moment, if our eyes met for a moment or an hour, lost in the fathomless depth of her eyes I could have sworn that it lasted a lifetime.
Things moved quickly after that first caress, as though a wall had been broken or a barrier laid low. Acting with minds of their own our hands grasped and clawed at each other, the pretense of the movie giving way to the desperation of desire. As though we had not just been carrying on a conversation we were suddenly possessed by the irresistible urge to touch, to feel, a yearning for each to feel their skin against the bare flesh of the other.
In moments the clothen barriers that separated us were shed, left in a heap on the floor along with our modesty and restraint.
Insistent hands pulled bodies close and my hungry mouth found the dark tips of her rounded breast, pulling it into my mouth. She moaned as the warm wetness of my eager mouth enveloped her nipple, her voice a lusty growl of unrepentant desire. My hands kneaded and caressed her flesh, blindly and mindlessly pulling her closer, roaming over the exposed paradise of her body before slipping towards knees closed tight. As my hand drew closer her knees parted indulgently to reveal the patch of silken hair above her vulva.
In another time, a calmer time, I would have taken more care. I would have caressed and probed with loving care to coax her gently into the arms of passionate release. But consumed by the lust burning through us subtlety was neither asked for nor offered.
Her back arched and her mouth yawned wide in a silent cry of ecstasy as my middle and index fingers slipped within her, my questing digits a sudden and surprising, but not unwelcome event. Wasting no time I thrust in and out, my thumb rising to flick across her flick on the down stroke. My fingers curled within her, aiming for the special spot on the back of her pelvis that had served me so well and so often in the past.
The effects of my touch upon her body were immediate, her beautifully deep, brown eyes glazed slightly as her climax started to build within her. As the waves of pleasure rolled over her, quickening her breaths and speeding her heart, I continued my work on the sensitive tips of her breasts. Gently trapping one of the sensitive tips between my teeth I started to flick it rapidly with my tongue, eliciting another groan.
Our bodies writhed together, each dancing to the other’s tune as our motions flowed into each other, a heavy sheen of sweat covering our exposed flesh. In the end, her release found her before mine, her face contorted in wordless passion, and though it was the first of many that night the sight of her features twisted by the ecstasy I had wrought upon them is an image that has kept me warm on many a solitary night.
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This story was written and edited by Lilly Ashwood. Lilly is the owner and operator of Lashwood Erotica and one of the primary admins at My Perverted Stories. Lilly has been writing erotica for more than a decade and has published stories in many places across the web. Lashwood Erotica serves as her home away from home and a way for her to share all of the perverted and twisted fantasies that fill her mind. Check out her about me section for answers to some of the most common personal questions she receives.
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