I recognized the number on my phone’s screen immediately and was surprised, not because he was texting me, but because he sent the message the morning after I had written about him. That was a bit weird. Then I read the message.
“I’m in town. Are you free tonight?”
I sat down on the edge of my tub, goosebumps covering my arms and legs. He was here. In town. Close enough to touch. Close enough to touch me. And how he touched was fresh in my mind.
We had kept in contact over the years, sometimes going a year or two without talking. The last time I had seen him was seven years ago. We had met for lunch and even though there were plenty of suggestive looks and words shared between us it didn’t go further because I was in a relationship. Then he had moved away, so our communication was kept at a safe distance, if you consider 1,100 miles safe.
I had a decision to make. The obvious answer is OF COURSE YOU GO. But it wasn’t quite that simple. I’ve recently been talking to this rather intriguing guy and while things haven’t gotten physical yet, they might. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to add an encounter with (gosh I’m going to have to come up with a nickname for him) him to my current mix of emotions.
Secondly, this might be too much information for some, so for that I apologize, but it’s important. You see, about five minutes before I got the text I started. Yeah. THAT kind of started. And I also knew if he and I were alone in the same room that would be a problem.
So I posted about my dilemma, giving you all the bare minimum of information and no clues about the extenuating circumstances. I thought about it for another hour and decided to go, the possibility of excellent blog fodder not playing a minor role in my final decision. I told myself I would have good boundaries because of the intriguing guy and the other thing, and then got in the tub to shave very well.
I pulled up to the gorgeous house where he was staying at dusk. The landscaping was impeccable. I made my way across the pieces of flagstone surrounded by mondo grass to the glass front door and saw him. He was sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar reading the paper, an ankle resting on a knee.
I tapped on the glass and he looked up, folded the paper and motioned for me to come in. I turned the heavy knob and stepped across the threshold. He sat very still, making me come to him, a closed mouth smile lighting up his face. He still had the same twinkling blue eyes, the same full head of salt and pepper hair.
When I reached his side he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I said.
“Come here,” he said, pulling me in close.
My arms circled his neck and his mouth came down on mine, gentler than I expected. A decade is nothing and everything. In that instant I was twenty again, but with all the confidence and experience I now have at thirty. Past and present collided as our mouths opened and tongues intermingled, tasting, remembering.
He paused, stood and held me at arms length before caressing the side of my face with his hand. A shiver ran the entire length of my body. We then visited for a few minutes. I can’t remember exactly what was said but it revolved around the house, my life, his life and the weather of all things.
He pulled me close again, this time with both of us standing. A corner of my brain registered that he was in better shape than he was ten years ago. Things escalated quickly. One minute we were kissing and the next he had my breasts up and out of my black dress, filling and spilling out of his hands. I broke the kiss and tilted my head back, exposing my neck and throat, inviting his mouth lower. He obliged. His hot wet mouth covered one nipple, then the next, going back and forth giving each equal attention. I pressed up against him, feeling his swollen cock straining in his shorts.
But wait, there’s more. Keep reading here.