After the Reunion Ch. 03

Matt

Well, that had gone well - not!

It certainly hadn't been the reaction I was expecting. Now, I was scared to death that I may have destroyed our relationship. I didn't sleep at all that night, lying in bed and listening to my wife intermittently crying.

Next morning, Adriana dressed and left the house without a word to me. Her anger hadn't dissipated even the tiniest bit. I managed to get through the day, putting on a brave face in front of the kids as if nothing was wrong. That night, we had T-ball practice and as long as we were around the kids, Adriana, too, acted like nothing had happened. But, when we got home and went to bed, she again slept on the far side of the bed, facing away from me.

It wasn't until Wednesday evening that Adriana finally calmed enough to tell me that she had another meeting with Daryl on Friday to take him a contract proposal. At that point, I was frightened; after two days she still wasn't speaking to me, except absolute necessities and to put on a show for our kids.

What if, in her anger, she went to Daryl. What I had hoped for on Monday, I was deathly afraid of now. Thursday evening, after our T-ball game and we'd all gone to bed, I even suggested to her, "Honey, if you want, I'll take the contract to Daryl."

"No, you started this, I'll finish it." She was still speaking with flames of anger.

Those words inflamed my fear even more. I didn't want her seeing Daryl again; I didn't want her "finishing it", fearing what that might mean. I guess what scared me most was wondering if she was still in love with Daryl and if she slept with him, would she leave me for him? Is that what she meant by "finishing it"? God, I didn't know what to do. I didn't want her to see him again but didn't know how to stop it.

Adriana

The day came to visit Daryl's shop. He met me at the front door and ushered me to the drafting tables.

Daryl was in his element in his studio. He had become a serious artisan with an intuitive business sense. He showed me some patterns and described his idea of a dedicated showcase featuring his premium handbags, wallets, passport folios, and belts. A polished mahogany signboard would be inscribed with his company name and insignia.

Daryl exuded an aura of self-confidence which I found appealing, much as I had so long ago. Leaning over his drafting table, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his leather, we were shoulder to shoulder, often touching. Our faces were close as we perused his drawings. I remained in his studio until closing time, admiring his plans and his workmanship. We retired to Daryl's office which, not surprisingly, was outfitted in a leather motif. We refined our business plan and to celebrate, Daryl invited me to dinner. I accepted.

I wouldn't have agreed to anything other than business appointments with Daryl had Matt not arranged our initial meeting the way in which he did. Despite Daryl's and my promising retail agreement, I still harbored anger toward Matt for his juvenile plan of a tawdry showing of me to an old lover. I admit I found Daryl attractive and the old feelings inside me were strong, but fidelity to my husband was my intention, notwithstanding the activities of the last few weekends.

Dinner with Daryl was relaxed. I found myself increasingly attracted to him. He was handsome, confident, and had become even more charming. He had a way of making a woman feel like a woman, even more than he had in high school. After two glasses of Chardonnay, I had to fight the urge to take his hand while leaving the restaurant. We walked to his new F250 pickup and got in.

"Come on. I'll show you where I live," he said.

"Will I meet your wife?"

He laughed, "No, I don't have a wife. I've never met the right girl, since..."

I knew what he was about to say, and it frightened me. Propriety should have compelled me to decline his invitation, but it didn't. I knew what would happen and I wanted it.

Daryl owned a spacious center-hall colonial house. It was readily apparent that the tasteful furnishings and tapestries were selected with the insight of an artist. Colors complemented colors, wool rugs complemented Brazilian cherry floors, wood complemented leather, which was everywhere. He had beautiful leather wall hangings. It was cozy. I loved it.

"Can I offer you a drink?"

"I started with wine, I'll remain with that."

"I have a nice Carignane. You'll like it." Daryl was obviously much more of a wine connoisseur than me or Matt.

We toasted our new business relationship and then Daryl led me on a tour of his roomy house. It had three bedrooms with two and a half baths. He led me into the master bedroom and I followed, anticipating what I knew would very shortly be happening in that bedroom. A Stickley king-sized Mission-style bed was centered between two nightstands. Two double dressers added symmetry to the room. Silk ceiling-to-floor drapes adorned the windows. A full-length mirror framed in dark leather stood in the corner. I stood gawking.

Daryl moved closer and, taking me in his arms, kissed me. I kissed back. We broke and stared into each other's eyes.

"I've thought about you often, Adriana. I've missed you."

"I think about you too, Daryl. I have fond memories." I sighed, reflecting. "We were too young to fall in love."

"And I was too young to know," he sang. I laughed at his quip. But then he added seriously, "But now I'm not too young."

The fourteen years that elapsed since we had last made love disappeared and we began to disrobe. We were no longer kids hiding from our parents. We undressed each other without teenage awkwardness, standing and admiring each other's nakedness.

Daryl had kept in shape. He retained a full head of hair. His body was toned, his hands were those of a craftsman, and his legs were sturdy. His penis was erect.

"You still have it, Adriana. You've kept your teenage shape and your curves are lovelier yet. May I?" he asked, holding his hands up to my breasts.

"Of course." I eagerly anticipated his first touch.

Daryl took my breasts in his hands and rubbed and lifted them, evaluating their weight and shape. Apparently satisfied, he gave them a healthy squeeze to assess their firmness. His fingers on me felt so good.

"Just like I remember. Full, round, and firm." He drew his attention to my kitty.

"You keep her shaved," he observed.

"No, it's waxed, much smoother."

"She's beautiful."

When Matt first dared me to shave during our game of strip poker I considered it an affront. I always kept myself trimmed and I think I look pretty good down there. Was he not satisfied with my natural look? Was he not satisfied with my sex? This was a personal issue that should have been kept private. I resented his dare in the presence of another couple. I had sat staring at him and considered refusing him. Now I was glad I didn't. I loved the smoothness, the feel of a man's hands on my bare skin.

Daryl gently pushed me onto his bed. He spread my legs and drew his face to my smoothness. He hesitated, admiring me up close. He toyed with my lips as he inspected, torturing me with wanting him and then audibly inhaled my redolence. He followed with a few gentle pecks and then more pronounced kisses. The want inside of me was becoming nearly unbearable. Kisses became full-length licks. He then turned his attention to entertaining my swollen clitoris. He'd forcefully drag his tongue up my slot, then would decrease pressure just before arriving at my clit and gently nurture her. Oh God, it felt good.

This contrast of forcefulness and tenderness was something I had never experienced. Matt was certainly adept at bringing me to climax, but his style was different. And forget about Tanner; making love with him was too coarse an affair for such nuance. Lying back and enjoying Daryl's gentile attention, I vowed that I would have Matt adopt this technique.

Daryl's tender ministrations soon brought me to a rousing finish. It came suddenly, like an explosion. I lost control and squirted on his face. This wasn't common for me and I felt embarrassed. Daryl, on the other hand, was pleased with himself and with me.

"I knew you were a sexy girl the first time we made love," he purred and kissed me. "You were sexy when you gave me your virginity. And you're even more so now." He wore my emissions proudly.

With that compliment, he mounted me. I was ready and had no compunction about making love with Daryl. Matt had surreptitiously arranged this tryst, even insisting I dress for sex. He must have known or wanted this to be the denouement of our meetings. I consider myself a good wife and was only too happy to oblige Matt's wish, even though I could tell he regretted it now.

Daryl teased me by rubbing the head of his generously proportioned penis up and down my slot. He paused at my opening and with our eyes locked, he gently pushed in.

The feeling was a combination of nostalgia and the present. We were revisiting our teen years and our discovery of love. I remember Daryl as an awkward teenager, finding his way in the field of love. He probably remembered me the same way. But Daryl was no longer awkward, and I was no longer an ingénue.

Once fully inside me, Daryl paused. We remained motionless, our genitals and our thoughts as one. Memories of my first time flooded back. My original reaction to lovemaking was that of indifference. It hurt and it was messy. It didn't hurt now. And messy was sexy. I felt so sexy now.

We soon established an easy cadence, moving together like practiced lovers. Daryl put me in several positions: on top, on my tummy, on my back with feet in the air, and on my hands and knees. He made me masturbate while he was inside me. He enjoyed my sex as he pleased, but always in a respectful manner. He moved his member from my kitty to my mouth several times, gently slapping my cheek as he did. He'd kiss my hot spot before reentering. His endurance was unbelievable. I don't even know how many times I came.

Daryl's eyes rolled as he finished deep inside me. He remained on top of me, panting for several minutes. He pulled out, still semi-erect. I took him in hand and pulled him into my mouth. I cleaned him up, savoring the taste of our sex. Daryl rolled beside me, spent.

"Wow," he gasped. "It was never like that before."

"We're grown-ups now. We know how to please each other."

"You certainly pleased me, Adriana. Your vagina is a work of art. And a feisty little kitty, too, I might add."

"You brought out her best," I giggled.

We shared some more pillow talk and kisses, then rose and dressed. Daryl drove me to my car and we parted like the lovers we now were, again. He didn't ask me if there would be a next time but I think we both knew there would be.

Matt was in bed reading a book when I got home. It was well after eleven and it didn't look like he'd got past page one.

"How did the meeting go?" he asked as I kicked off my pumps.

"Good. We struck a deal. Daryl will supply us with leather goods. I'll allow him floor space to display his wares. The terms are generous for both," I replied, facing the mirror and removing my earrings.

Matt stared silently at my back for some moments. "You're awfully late. It took you that long to work out a simple arrangement?"

I turned toward him with impatience. "No, it didn't. We worked it out quickly. Then he took me home and screwed me like a whore. And I loved it. Isn't that what you wanted?" I asked pointedly.

Matt winced, not sure if I was being truthful or if I was still just being angry with him for his silly idea. He didn't answer.

I retired to the bathroom without another word. I cleaned myself and removed my makeup. When I emerged, Matt turned the light out. I slid into bed next to him and gave him a hug.

"Let's not stay angry. Let's celebrate our new business agreement instead," I said to my husband.

Matt was game and I proceeded to direct him in my newly-learned technique of cunnilingus.

Matt

I didn't know if she was telling me the truth or just venting her anger, but when she came to bed directing me how to lick her, and I tasted the strange flavor of her pussy, my doubts evaporated.