The Reunion Ch. 01

Then his arms were lifting me. Holy fuck, his muscles were insane. He was strong as an ox, and he effortlessly hoisted my legs around his hips and pressed me against the cool cinderblock wall. I relished the firmness of his body between my legs, familiar and strange all at once.

His mouth explored my neck, then my chest, my breasts. He slid a hand up my back and fumbled for a moment until the clasp of my bra finally unsnapped. He let out a heavy sigh as he tore away my bra and buried his face in my chest. I wrapped my arms around his head, ran my fingers through his soft hair. Then, suddenly, I felt his large hands close around my wrists, tearing them away and firmly pressing them against the wall. He had me pinned. I gasped as I felt him take my whole nipple in his mouth. I bucked against him as a shock of pleasure coursed through me, but he held me firmly in place. Then he found the other nipple. I stifled a scream as his tongue circled and flicked, shooting tendrils of electricity through my lower back and groin.

I heard him chuckle. Then, in one fluid motion he had me on the ground, on my back, pressed against something surprisingly soft. Wrestling mats, I later realized. In the moment, I didn't care. We were both panting, desperate and frantic and dizzy with excitement and booze. I let him tear away my underwear, then gasped as his head forced my legs apart and his mouth found my naked pussy. I heard him moan with pleasure as his warm tongue slowly parted my pussy lips. Gently, he lapped my aching clit. Small circles, broad strokes. He thrust a finger inside me, and I yelped with surprise. His finger made slow, deliberate circles inside of me as he sucked and licked with masterful precision.

This was not the shy, fumbling maverick I had swapped virginities with Freshman year. This was a grown man with a decade of experience, the benefits of which he seemed more than eager to share. I stroked his scalp with my nails until I began to feel my own climax mounting. Then I dug my nails into the back of his head and moaned as I was taken over by the sudden, violent intensity of an orgasm.

I lay on the mat in the dark, convulsing in the throes of my own pleasure. I felt him move from between my legs, heard a rustle of fabric and a crinkle of foil. "Wait," I breathed between pants. I hoisted myself up onto my elbows.

I groped blindly through the dark until I brushed his naked leg. Through my half-drunk haze, I felt determined to show him that he was not the only one who had gained some experience. I slowly slid my hands up his shins, his thighs, pausing as I neared his groin, then continuing up past his navel. He took one of my hands in his and pressed it to his lips.

I took the tip of his erect cock between my parted lips. I heard him gasp. For several seemingly agonizing seconds, I waited with just the tip of his massive cock between my lips, teasing him. Then, I plunged his whole cock in my mouth as far as it would go. I felt him convulse and stumble backwards a half step, steadying himself against the wall. His girth stretched my mouth so wide that my jaw began to ache almost instantly. I pulled back, licked what had to be at least twelve inches from base to tip a few times, and then took him in my mouth again. This time, I relaxed my throat and let his cock plunge as deep as I could let it go without choking. I felt his hands on the back of my head, but playfully swatted them away. I was not confident that I could deep throat a cock as big as his for very long. Instead, I began alternating between fast, pumping strokes with long, slow lunges to the back of my throat in between.

After several minutes, he said. "I'm not going to last. You have to stop." Had this been any other person on any other night, I would have ignored him and allowed him to explode in my mouth, or even on my face. But this was Cody. This was the culmination of almost thirteen years of tension, and who knew if there would ever be another chance? I would not let it end so quickly, not without having him inside of me.

I released his cock and leaned back on my haunches. I felt the edge of the soft mat give way beneath my hands. My eyes were finally beginning to adjust to the darkness, but I could only make out the shadow of him as he expertly slid a condom onto his massive erection. My heart began pounding in my chest as I wondered what was about to happen. Would he throw me down and tear me open? God, a part of me was begging for the sweet agony of a violent, painful fuck. And wouldn't it be fitting? We were always passion and fire, urgency and anger, a miserable, wild torrent of equal parts pleasure and pain. I was becoming more aroused every moment I thought about it.

In answer to my frantic fantasy, I was surprised to feel his hand gently caressing my neck. "Becca," he breathed in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Then he was kissing me. Long, deep, passionate kisses that took my breath away and made my head swim. His other arm caressed my back, gently guided me onto the mat, pushing me down until I was staring up at him. I could feel the soft tangle of his pubic hair between my legs, the weight of his heavy cock pressed against my inner thigh. My pussy was still soaking wet, dripping from my own orgasm and fresh arousal as his fingers traced a line across my breasts, down my torso, between my legs.

He pulled away for moment, his eyes locked on mine. A silent question. I nodded.

He kissed me again, moved his hips until I felt the tip of his cock brush against my pussy lips. He hesitated for a heartbeat before thrusting his enormous cock so hard and deep inside me that I thought I would split in two. His hand clasped hard against my mouth as I let out an involuntary scream. The pain was exquisite, searing like fire in one moment and then burning low and sensual like warm embers in the next. My heart raced in my chest as I grappled with the conflicting sensations of pain and raw, unbridled ecstasy. Cody. Inside me. It wasn't real. Not in my wildest fantasies could I have imagined that we would be able to get through the evening and have even a civil conversation. Yet here he was, every inch of him roaming, devouring, reacquainting himself with my body in the same halls where we had once shared stolen kisses, carefully folded notes, bitter, angry words, and stony, malicious stares between classes. Could the years away really have faded those painful memories so much that we could have casual sex within an hour of seeing each other for the first time in a decade? Whatever this was, it didn't feel casual. This was not an anonymous tryst or a fuck between friends. There were emotions here, swirling in my foggy brain like a current beneath gently rolling waves.

He began to move in and out of me, long and slow. Each thrust was just a little less painful than the last. I didn't love him. It didn't take long after leaving town for me to realize that the feelings I had mistaken for love in those days were mainly lust and vanity. He was the first boy who had shown a romantic interest in me, and that in itself was intoxicating. It didn't hurt that he was also attractive. And the pain I felt when things ended was not so much a broken heart as wounded pride, the relentless sting of rejection, emotions that were also new, confusing, and overwhelming.

It was those memories, the painful ones, that I fixated on as his massive cock plowed into me. I gripped his firm buttocks with both hands and forced him deeper, gasping through pain that was both blinding in its intensity and thrilling in ways that I could not put into words. "Fuck me" I panted. "Harder."

Mercifully, he obliged. He took one of my legs and jammed my knee against my chest. Then he pressed his hand against my mouth again, his grip a little harder than before. His brow knit into a determined scowl. He began slamming into me so hard I was sure everyone would be able to hear the slapping of flesh and my stifled screams over the music in the gym. "Fucking bitch," he muttered. "Is this what you want?" His hand slid from my mouth to my throat. He tightened his grip enough to hurt, enough to leave a mark, but not enough to actually stop my breath.

"Fuck you," I spat. This was what I needed, I realized. I had never had a hate fuck before, but it felt good to call it what it was and just roll with the wild, violent impulses I felt remembering our brief, tortured relationship. I dug my nails into his arms until I thought I might draw blood. "Fucking hick. This was all you were ever good at."

His grip on my throat tightened as his lips pulled into a sneer. His thrusting became even more forceful. "Well look at you," he snarled. "Judging everyone from your high tower in the big city, then you come back here with your nose turned up like you've stepped in shit."

He suddenly stopped, pulled out so quickly that I gasped with surprise. I felt a warm trickle on my inner thigh that I was almost certain was blood. With a quick, violent motion, he flipped me over so my face was pressed against the mat. He pressed his forearm into my upper back, pinning me under his full weight. Then his breath was in my ear. "But here's what's funny. Moving away didn't change you. You're still the same trashy, self-loathing little slut you were in high school. The only thing I see different is that now you're a judgy, arrogant hypocrite who finally learned how to suck a dick. I bet you even do anal now, don't you?"

I started to struggle, too floored by his words to string together a coherent response. But I was too slow. His dick, still slick with equal parts pussy juices and blood, found my asshole and plunged. I screamed in earnest, paralyzed with an agony that was too intense to see beyond. Just pain. Just terror. He seemed to realize that a line had been crossed, because I felt him hesitate before the full length of him was inside of me.

"Becca," he said, changing his tone. His voice was low and firm. "If you don't want this we can stop."

Not even pausing to think, I shook my head. "Do it," I gasped.

And he did.