The Reunion

“I just want to drop off my luggage, then maybe we could grab something to eat?

She nodded. He’d only been in town fifteen minutes and she hadn’t seen him in years. Whatever else she was planning for the weekend, it could wait while he had a meal, couldn’t it?

She smiled to herself. Actually, no. It couldn’t.

They reached his hotel, handed the valet the car keys, and he was glad he’d put out the extra few bucks and booked into one of the best. Crisp sheets on the bed, instantaneous room service, a well-stocked mini bar and lighting so deep you could bathe in it. They kissed – tentatively at first, a little nervous, a little shy. But his tongue had a will of its own, wrapping itself around hers, discovering the taste of her mouth, the strength of her lips, the sharpness of her teeth. His hands were on her breasts, pressing them against her body, her rock-hard nipples compressed against the firmness of her palms, as he backed her towards the wall. He stepped back a little once they reached it, and his fingers deftly undid the buttons of her blouse, his mouth still welded to hers.

She reached behind, unclasping her bra. Sliding under the material, his hands returned to her breasts, caressing their bareness, kneading the flesh while his thumb idly flicked at her nipples, sending sudden jolts of pleasure whispering down her spine. She wrestled to get at his shirt buttons, felt his wiry chest hair against her fingertips, and she broke his grip, broke his kiss, and took one of his lead-pellet nipples between her lips.

His hands were on her ass now; hers were tracing a sharp fingernail above the waistband of his pants, dipping occasionally beneath the fabric to scratch a vertical path from his belly-button down; it was a bit of a squeeze, but her hand forced its way down the front of his trousers, her fingers reaching… his cock was hard and pointing straight up; she curved her hand and two fingers and her thumb grasped its head and squeezed lightly. Roughly, his hands had hitched her skirt up, were making their own way down the back of her tights, his fingers tracing a blunt path down the crease of her ass. They paused at her anus, lingered for a moment and then continued on their journey, to the very edge of her vagina.

She could feel how wet she was, and shivered as one probing finger began smearing her juices back round towards her ass, rubbing them into the soft skin and poking, tentatively again, at her ass-hole. Releasing her light grip on the greasy head of his penis, she unbuttoned his waistband and slowly unzipped his pants, pulling down his underpants as she did so. A breath of musk touched her nostrils and a tremor of fresh excitement washed through her pussy as she took his surprisingly thick shaft in her hand. He half-sighed, half groaned, and his free hand shifted from her back to the top of her head, gently but firmly trying to push her down.

She stood her ground. She didn’t know why guys always do that – if a girl wants to suck him, she’s going to. She doesn’t need encouragement, and she certainly doesn’t need force. Instead, she kissed his chest; let her lower lip bruise his nipple before baring her teeth and biting it lightly. Now both of his hands were on her head, and she broke away from him altogether. “I think I need to lie down,” she whispered and walked to the bed, pulling her tights and panties off, shrugging away her blouse and bra.

She crouched on the comforter, watching as he undressed, gasping as she saw how far and straight his cock stood out from his body, eight throbbing, fat inches, with the pre-cum forming a thick, viscous drip from the tip. He joined her on the bed and she kissed him hard, tracing her fingers across his belly, through his groin, around the tops of his thighs. His hips were shifting with her movements, trying to direct his cock into her hand, but she was faster than him, running her fingertips behind his knees, then up and across his buttocks.

“Touch me again,” he breathed, and she let her hand move to his scrotum, pushing her thumb into the tight skin that stretched across his hard balls. She massaged them with her palm, while she worked her way up to squeeze the very base of his dick between her index and middle finger. His hand was on her mound now, palm flat against her pubes while the very tip of his middle finger forced itself between the lips. She ground herself against it, the motion rippling against her clit as she forced his finger in deeper; then rewarded him by taking him fully in her hand, slowly jerking him.

His juice pooled thick on her fingers, his smell was heavy in her nose. Without letting go of his penis, she pushed him backwards, his legs dangling off the end of the bed, and held his cock straight up in the air. Then, moving to kneel on the floor between his legs, she lowered her head and ran a questing tongue across him; her tongue tingling as it swept through the sticky coating that seemed to be flooding out of him. She worked up a blob of saliva and let it drip down, swirling it into his own juice with her tongue, then took him into her mouth.

He half-growled, half-groaned his approval, as she gave his helmet a firm suck. She opened her eyes and gazed up his body; he lay completely askew, his arms and legs a jumble of angles, his own eyes tightly shut. Every movement she made, though, brought another exhortation, a series of increasingly explicit orders and instructions that thrilled me to the core: “Bite me… yeah, like that. But deeper… I want to feel your teeth at the root… oh God, that’s right, that’s it… hold me there… don’t move… now suck me like you’ve never sucked before….”

She obeyed every one, tightening her lips even more firmly around him; “don’t stop….”

Don’t worry, I don’t intend to. His words, his taste, his passion, all merged magically into the pounding of the blood in her ears, and she continued relishing, almost worshipping, that hot, seemingly endless shaft, her lips pursed around his flesh, clinging tightly to the hot, salty skin, while one hand held him firm and upright, and the other slid wildly across his thigh.

He clutched her hair, pulled her head up roughly. “Tell me how much you love it… love sucking it.”

“I adore it… so hard, so firm”; she knew exactly what he wanted to hear her say. “You fill my mouth, I want to suck you forever. And when you cum, I want to taste every drop.” Yet, even as her words were devoted to the matter in hand, and his cock shivered with excitement at the devotions that she dedicated to it, her mind was planning the evening’s real highlight… the main event, as it were. She’d spotted the fruit bowl the moment they walked into the room, and she’d long ago moved the it off the table, to the floor by the foot of the bed. Now, ending the conversation by taking one of his balls deep into her mouth, she reached out and plucked two grapes off their stalk, and rolled them in her palm, warming them just enough that their entry into her body would not come as such a shock.

“But now you have to do something for me,” she whispered, kissing his cock, then his stomach, then slowly up his chest, while her fingers slipped the first grape into her dripping hole. His hands were at her waist, hauling her up his body; with one last heave, she was astride his face, her pussy just inches from his mouth. His tongue snaked out; she felt it at her lips and sank down, enveloping it and then clenched her muscles, seeking out the grape, forcing it to the front… and pushed it into his mouth.

Well, he’d said he wanted something to eat.