Where it happened: Home
I shivered slightly as I watched him park his car and walk slowly to the front of the house. He was 26, I was only 18. He was really a man, in some ways I was still a child. As he strode towards me, tall lean and tanned, something inside me sparked into life and I wanted him so badly, with a strength of desire I had never experienced before. My parents were away all weekend and this passionate interlude had been long planned – God, I was aching for him!
Later as we laid pressed together in my single bed, I knew there was no turning back, each kiss was deeper and more intense, leaving me in no doubt of its meaning, his huge rough hands moving up and down my body, cupping, squeezing my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples to attention, leaving me aching for more. He drew me towards him, gentling suckling at my swollen breasts, making me gasp at the intensity of feeling, now nipping with his teeth, stronger, closer…
His hand smoothed over my belly and down between my thighs, until for the the first time he touched me, flames shot through me and for a moment I was afraid, seeking, and finding reassurance in his eyes. Slowly he parted my lips and slid his finger inside , giving me just an idea of what was to come. I was hot, so wet and desperate for him, but he continued his slow sweet torture, not just with his hands, but now with his tongue, snaking it aching slowly up my thigh, until it reached me, revelling in the moist musky taste of me. But I could stand it no longer and almost dragged him on top of me, his rigid cock burning a white hot trail up my body. So gently he began to enter me, murmuring reassurances as if I were a child, holding me almost like china, I felt the sharp burning pain of his possession and then the feelings hit me, as if carried along by a rollercoaster, I began to react, to move my hips in time with his, to feel him so deep and hard inside me, my legs wrapped around his waist urging him further into me, needing to be a part of him as he needed to be a part of me. Even now 12 years later, the intensity of the memories move me to the point of tears, I loved him as I will never love another. But it wasn’t to be. There is a saying, if you love something, let it go. I did and part of me is still waiting…..