Liberation

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An old flame sets her free.
1.9k words
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Five years. Five years, in which so much had happened, so many things had changed – in her mind at least. But as she sat across from him now, talking of vacations and his sister – one of her oldest friends – and their recent pasts and future plans, it seemed, in some ways, as if they had only seen each other the previous month. She hadn't known he was there in their hometown, a hometown she herself had not visited in two years. So she hadn't planned to see him, but the chance meeting had made her want to recapture something of their times together, however remotely.

There hadn't been many – they lived in different countries and had never officially dated – but they had been good. And the naughty correspondence they had shared over many months had made it seem as if there had been more.

He looked at her now as he had always done: straight in the eyes. She was relieved. So many people had been incapable of looking her in the eyes this past year – including her own husband. She wondered if he saw her as she had been, or if his image of her was the same as the one she had in her mind's eye.

A few hours earlier, as she had dressed to go out, she had taken a long, hard look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was still so short, though thicker now – kind of trendy-looking really. She had run her finger up and down the silky-feeling, new, new skin that ran from just under her ribcage down to her pubic bone, and her thoughts had returned to that day she had dared for the first time to confront herself in the full-length mirror. What she had seen then was the image that she still retained of herself; something that she equated with a death-camp survivor: thin, bald and scarred. Not her. Not the vivacious, voluptuous woman she had been.

And here was a man who had known that woman; but they didn't talk about it, their past relationship. It seemed as if they couldn't or shouldn't. Later she would realize that this was partly because the air had been charged with the sexual tension that had always surrounded the two of them together.

She would never know what exactly had caused the tension to spark. All she would remember was that, as they waited in the cool night air for their cab to arrive, suddenly they had been kissing, drinking deeply of each other, their bodies pressed together hungrily and their hands rediscovering the contours they had known before.

It was all they could do not to rip each other's clothes off in the cab. As soon as she closed the door of his house behind her, she felt herself slammed against it, his body against hers, and his breath on her neck. His hands were running over her buttocks, pulling her into him. Her hands were in his hair and around his back, trying to get closer still. Their breathing was deep and full of longing as he nibbled, kissed and licked her neck, and she lost herself in the feeling.

He led her up the stairs like a virgin to the altar, or perhaps it was a prisoner to the bar. Like that virgin, she was filled with a strange mix of eagerness and trepidation. But like that prisoner, she was afraid to be judged and found wanting.

The nature of their relationship had never been romantic, although she knew from his sister that he had had strong feelings for her. They had always enjoyed their encounters as pure pleasure – giving and taking freely, with no promises and no frills. He had never undressed her slowly, preferring to give his attention to her body. And now he began to remove his own clothes methodically, as if they were an old married couple. She was glad this hadn't changed. She didn't want to feel anything different from before, and it left her in control of how she revealed herself to him now.

He lay back on the bed, his hands under his head, watching her as she undressed. For a moment, she stared at his impressive erection. She had forgotten how big he was. She smiled to herself as she remembered the first time she had seen his cock, how her eyes had almost popped out of her head, and how she had been sure it would hurt her. But he had never hurt her. He was attentive and skilled, and the memory of his expertise caused her insides to squirm and her juices to flow.

She had started with her pants and panties, not ready as yet to expose the changes in her body. She turned away from him to take off her shirt, laying it carefully on the armchair, and removed her bra with her back to him. She swallowed and took a deep breath before turning to face him again and approach the bed.

He sprang to a kneeling position, reaching his arms out to her and seizing her by the waist to haul her towards him. Just as he used to do. They knelt there together, their bodies intertwined, their lips and tongues melded, his erection pushing so hard into her abdomen that it seemed as if it had created the crevice that marked her stomach. He pulled her to the side and tipped her onto her back, pulling away from her mouth to kiss her cheeks, her eyelids, her eyebrows, and breathe slowly over her face to her ear, which he delicately traced with his tongue.

His hot breath set the fire. The touch of his hand on her breast, gently squeezing her nipple between the lengths of his middle and forefinger, ignited it. His lips and tongue and teeth brushed her neck, her collarbone, her sternum, and travelled over the soft mound of her other breast, coming to rest on its tip. As his tongue swirled around her nipple, the fire raged within her, quickening her breathing and causing her to moan. She raised her pelvis to rub herself on the thigh he had pressed between her legs. She wanted him. She had always wanted him. And now she ached for him; ached for him to make her cum; ached for him to make her feel beautiful again.

His hand left her breast and continued down her body. Her stomach muscles clenched; partly in apprehension, partly in anticipation; but his fingers did not falter, neither avoided nor lingered on the blemish of which she was so conscious. She felt his touch glide down her outer thigh, finding that sensitive spot behind her knee, feeding the flames. He shifted his leg enough to allow his hand to pass on its journey back up her inner thigh, to the moistness of her pussy.

His fingers danced over the most sensitive parts of her, slick with the juices of her desire, teasing the flames higher until they flared. She cried out with the release it brought her – a release, also, from the doubt she had unconsciously carried within her for some time.

She was more than ready now, ready to feel him inside her, ready for him to fill her up, ready to ride him the way he liked. He rolled over onto his back pulling her up to straddle him. She liked the way he did this, the way he'd always let her have control at first. She shifted onto his thighs so she could get reacquainted with that part of him that had given her so much pleasure in the past. He was ready too, throbbing beneath the touch of her palm, glistening with his own wetness oozing from the eye of his head.

She hesitated then, unsure of how this would work out. He was so big, at least eight inches, that she didn't know if she could get him all in any more. Her guts ached from the horror of it all, and she spoke his name softly. He sat up, pressing his finger to her lips and his tongue to the lobe of her ear. "It's okay," he whispered, "it's gonna be fine."

She knelt up and shifted again to impale herself on his straining prick, slowly, tantalizingly, each inch accompanied by her moans and his, until she had gone as far as she could. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do. She looked at him again and his eyes beamed reassurance back at her, his fingers slowly caressing her thighs. She began to stroke up and down, high and slow at first. She saw his eyes close as he momentarily focused on the sensations coursing through his body.

He liked to watch her work, she knew, and he challenged her with his eyes as she moved. He knew he was good at this, knew how long he could hold out, and defied her to make him cum quickly. She knew there was no point in trying, she would only wear herself out, so she savoured the feelings, excited him by telling him how good it felt to fuck him, to feel his thickness stretching her and his length pushing her physical limits. She dared him to just lie back and leave her in control.

Before long, he was meeting her stroke for stroke, steering her with his hands on her hips. She knew that she had defeated his challenge when he began to slap her buttocks. The sting electrified her, charging her with new energy, making her pick up the pace, just as he wanted. Her hands kneaded her breasts, her thumbs rubbing her nipples, sending sparks shooting down inside her. The sparks met with those generated by the slaps to her ass-cheeks and the rubbing of her g-spot over his veins, exploding through her, blinding her vision, soaking them both in her sweet juices.

Suddenly he gripped her ass hard with one hand, the other clasping her thigh to him as he flipped her onto her back, pushing himself, amazingly, a little further inside her. His fingers interlaced with hers above her shoulders and he pushed his palms against hers as he drove hard into her, staring into her eyes, into her soul. He told her how he loved to make love to her, to which she smiled as they had never been in love, at least not admittedly. He told her how gorgeous she was and, as she spasmed again beneath him, he told her how he loved to watch her cum.

Faster now, they stroked in synchronization; their breath hoarse, their damp skin sliding over one another, their fingers clenching together. And they continued to stare into each other's eyes, speaking words they would never dare to say aloud. She felt her own abdominal muscles begin to constrict first, and then his; felt her vagina walls clamp around him just as he started to swell, and then felt them both erupt, their voices crying out in chorus.

They lay together for a long while, her legs wrapped around his buttocks, their tongues and lips entwined, their hands holding each other's faces, creating memories that would last. And she felt whole again, felt alive again. He had found that vivacious, voluptuous woman hidden inside and set her free.

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BluegrayBluegrayalmost 15 years ago
So tender

Oh, my, what a tender beautiful story. You have shown that sex can be so truly uplifting and important for self image. Thank you!

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