The Visit

My very helpful editor was bgmisfun. All characters are over eighteen as is clear in the story.

My eyes were glued to the computer screen anxiously. The email was open, my fingers ready to reply, but the awkwardness would not let me begin.

"Dear Kevin", no...That was too close, I should maintain my distance even through the coldness of the internet.

"Hello Kevin (that was better), I got your email and of course we should meet while you are in Berlin..." I can pick you up from the airport and accompany you to your hotel and maybe have hot sex there before going out for a beer. God, I needed to keep this very short if I wanted to sound casual.

"...I'll meet you for a beer near your hotel tomorrow night. See you then. Sara."

Perfect. That was casual, just me doing my duty as expected. I had been living in Berlin for a couple of years now, studying and working a part time job at a supermarket. I hadn't thought about Kevin for ages, but as usual that did not stop the heat from enveloping my body as his image came into my mind now.

Kevin was a friend of my father's and I had spent some summers in family holidays with him and his family when I was a teenager. I don't remember the first time I saw him.

When I was fourteen, I was very introverted and did not care much for new people. I still looked very young, and I saw no reason he should pay any attention to me. Yet somehow he caught my attention, with his jokes and interesting conversation. He had a great smile and clever eyes, which drew me in at every occasion.

Every year our families would travel together, in Italy, Greece, Austria, and the Mediterranean Islands. Every year I would fantasise about him. I would spend an entire year without seeing him, but the moment he appeared and greeted me with two kisses I would melt, my heart beating faster.

But I grew up, and stopped taking part in these family holidays. Stopped seeing him completely. Different countries, different worlds, different lives. And here he was now. I had not seen him in six years. I was older, and so was he. But my mind was the same apparently. Just thinking about him made me want to touch myself.

This was so stupid and pointless. As if he felt the same! As if an older man with a wife and kids would ever have noticed me. I would just do my duty, go have a drink and make small talk and that would be it. He could tell my father how hospitable I was and my father would approve. I just had to get through one probably boring night with Kevin and I would go back to my normal life.

***

Ok, maybe it would be a bit more difficult than that. I had a hard time deciding what to wear to meet him. I tried a couple of dresses, but didn't want to look too well dressed. How did I want him to see me? I ended up choosing one of my favourite black dresses, not too revealing, but I liked how its hem danced against my knees when I moved. I felt safe and still pretty wearing it.

Now I waited in the hotel lobby, my imagination spinning out of control. Everything around me seemed to make me hot. A jazz song playing somewhere in the background, the soft lobby lights, every aspect of the environment conspiring to make me dizzy.

I always had a hard time controlling my thoughts, especially my dirty thoughts. I saw a million scenarios where we ended up fucking, his eyes filled with desire, his big hands touching me everywhere. Stop! Just small talk. He doesn't want anything. Remember that and everything will be fine.

And there he was. A charming smile on his face, deep brown eyes fixed on me. There were many new wrinkles around them. His hair was also greyer than I remembered, but he still towered over me. I couldn't believe looking at him that he was already over fifty. He looked fitter too.

"Hello, Sara. It's so nice to see you after all this time." He put a hand on my shoulder and kissed my cheeks. I hoped he didn't notice how hot they were. "Hello! Nice to see you too. How are Monica and the girls?" Why wasn't he taking the hand from my shoulder? He just left it there, squeezing a bit. It felt like an hour went by. I kept making small talk, asking about his family and he answered, but his hand didn't leave my shoulder. I was burning inside, imagining where else those strong fingers could be placed. I suddenly wished he would just go away and stop getting me so hot. That thought made me strong enough to suggest we go look for a bar, and finally he let go.

The rest of the night went by quickly, talking and drinking beer. I remembered how funny he was, talking about his country, but also interested in me and my life. We were sitting across from each other and his leg would occasionally bump against mine. Every little touch made me aware of how hot I still was. I wanted desperately to get home and have some time to take care of the heat building between my legs. But it seemed like he wanted to have another beer, and another, and a bit more conversation.

Suddenly he asked "And where do you live? I would like to see your apartment. I can't believe you are all grown up and living on your own. When I met you over 10 years ago you were always anxious to be older, remember? Asking everyone what it was like to be an adult. It was adorable. But you were always quite grown up somehow, it didn't even feel like you were a teenager."

"Really? That was exactly what I thought! I wanted to be taken seriously, but even after I turned eighteen I felt like everyone thought I was not interesting. Except you, of course." Oh no, I shouldn't have said that. I felt myself blush again and started playing with the hem of my dress. He smiled and had a sip of his beer.

I had a flashback to a night in Italy, when I was just eighteen, all of us going out for ice-cream. I see him clearly, asking if he could try mine and him just putting his tongue out, licking a chunk out of it slowly. I wanted to lick that place too, to put my tongue where his had been.

"So...maybe tomorrow afternoon I can come by and see your place, yes?" I came back to reality and found myself agreeing. I wrote the address on a napkin.

When I left him at his hotel and walked back to take the train home my head was a mess of memories. I saw us at a beach somewhere, saw him coming from the water and putting his cold, wet hands on my back to scare me. I screamed and shook him away, while he laughed. I quickly turned around, pretending to be angry and slapping at his hands. Every touch was burned into my brain as if it was yesterday. How his wet skin felt, his strong hands brushing my body. I was getting home and still the images haunted me. The last time I had seen him I was twenty-one.

We were all having lunch and his youngest daughter had crawled up to my lap. She was a cute little thing, always smiling and laughing. He was sitting next to me (he always seemed to be) and tried to take her from me to give her something to eat. As he did, his hand brushed between my thighs. It felt like it stayed there a long time, but that's probably just my imagination. I told myself that he didn't even notice. But I noticed.

I snapped myself out of it just before getting home. The minute I was through the door I stripped and went to my bedroom, feeling the cold air on my skin.

I saw my body in the mirror, small and white, shoulder length brown curls framing my face. My dark-brown eyes seemed even darker than usual, my lips red. My pink nipples on top of two small perky breasts looked very hard. They felt hard too. I closed my eyes and touched them. Electricity went through my body to the core of my desire. I lay on my bed and imagined Kevin's hands touching my skin, my wetness, driving me crazy. I fingered myself and came almost immediately. I fell asleep thinking of the next day, and how his visit would go.

***

"Wow, it is quite a big apartment. Do you live here alone?"

"I used to share it but I'm between roommates at the time. Plus the rent is very low, so it is still affordable on my own."

We were in the kitchen and I was preparing him a tea. I could feel his eyes on my back. The hairs on my neck were standing up. I told myself to relax and stop imagining things. When I turned around my eyes met his and I almost dropped the cup. Those eyes! It was like he could read my mind, see through me. And that he found my thoughts amusing.

I passed him his cup. Our fingers touched and again the electricity ran through me. I was slowly becoming too turned on to sit here and chat. I excused myself and went to the bathroom.

What could I do? I would just embarrass myself more, acting like a schoolgirl. I put my hands on the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. This is the time to be honest. I will just have to tell him what he does to me, acknowledge it openly. And then ask him to go. That way he would understand and maybe respect me enough not to tell my father. Or I could lie, make something up. That would also work.

He was now in the living room, sitting on the sofa, his tea in front of him on the coffee table. I looked at him, greying hair. How could he still have such an effect on me? Why did I still find him so incredibly attractive? He looked back and I forgot everything I was going to say. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

"What is wrong?" He looked worried? Curious? I wasn't sure.

"I am not feeling well. I feel a bit dizzy. Maybe it would be better for you to go." The words slipped out of me but I couldn't say anything else. He looked confused now. He stood up. We still had the coffee table between us.

"Why, what is wrong, Sara?"

I tried to mutter something sensible but could think of nothing appropriate. I needed to think. Think, Sara quickly! Should I tell him the truth? Could I do it? No I could not.

"Do you need anything? Some water maybe?" I could honestly not think of any excuse. I was letting this situation get out of my control. How could I get out of this?

I took a step back closer to the wall. He didn't stop looking at me, waiting for an answer. Such intense brown eyes...

"I...I have to ask you to leave because..." The words just didn't want to come out. But I forced them out. There was no other way. "You have always turned me on. I'm sorry, I am not expecting anything from you, I know you are happily married and I am much younger than you. But I just can't stop thinking about you, about touching you, and you touching me. I have ever since I was a teenager. I know it is stupid and I should have gotten over it long ago, but it just doesn't stop." Did I just say that? Now it was out, I couldn't stop. He had to know all of it. I wanted to tell him.

"I can remember every time you touched me, every single time. You probably didn't even notice any of it, but for me every touch was a flicker of fire igniting me inside. I wanted more. I dreamed of you so much it felt like a memory. I know it is all in my head, but it won't go away. It is just too difficult, being around you now, pretending that I am cool as a cucumber, when inside I feel like stripping and begging you to have sex with me." I stopped. Maybe I had gone too far. He looked very serious now. He was scorching me with a very intense look. Deep breaths, Sara, and get this over with.

"I thought, since we are both adults now, I should just tell you my predicament and ask you to be kind enough to leave. I don't want things to be awkward between us, I just think it would be best not to see you anymore." He stepped forwards. I stepped backwards and hit my back against the wall.

He wasn't saying anything. He wasn't going away either. Our eyes were locked together and we stayed for a moment in silence.

The next moment went by in slow motion. He started to approach me, never taking his eyes off mine. My breathing got ragged and I felt like my blood was on fire. My legs were shaking, my hands falling against the wall on either side of me. I tried to grab the wall forgetting it was not of a grabbable material.

He was suddenly very close, standing over me, so very close that I could smell him. It was intoxicating. He took my head in his hands and kissed me hard. My mouth opened for his and he sucked my tongue with impossible strength. His hands left my head and started trailing down my neck, shoulders, and breasts, settling at my waist and squeezing it. Our tongues were fighting a battle and his was winning. He pressed me against the wall and I felt his hardness. It drove me crazy.

I couldn't think, couldn't believe that this was really happening. I was under his control. I could do nothing but submit, and I wanted nothing else.

He pulled my clothes off me desperately. My green t-shirt was gone in a minute, exposing my bra covered breasts. He squeezed them, caressing, and tore the bra off of me. I could feel my nipples hardening under his strong touch. The jeans were also quickly out of the way and I was suddenly standing there only with my panties on. I was so wet I could feel them getting soaked. He kissed my jaw and neck and I thought I would pass out from so much wanting.

One of his hands was holding me tight; the other was playing with my left nipple. Then his hand started to trail down to my centre of desire and I gasped. His fingers were hot, strong and long. He slipped them quickly inside and then out, and started playing with my clit. He alternated fingering me with teasing my clit. I was coming close to orgasm already.

I wanted him inside me so badly, but could do nothing, say nothing. I opened my mouth, wanting to beg him to take me, but no sound came out. Suddenly, our lips meshed together and the intensity of it was incredible. I heard a zipper and my heart skipped a beat.

Then his hand left my panties. He separated from me for a second and just tore them off of me. I barely noticed. I saw his large, hard sex, and stopped breathing. In a heartbeat he was back against me, pulled my leg around his waist and I felt the tip brushing against my wet sex.

He looked into my eyes and kissed me at the same time that he pushed into me. It was amazing. He buried himself inside, his pelvis against mine. He started to do slow but hard strokes in and out. I was lost in a second. My body hardened and I put my arms around him, holding him tight as I came, my fingers digging into his skin.

I had never come so hard and fast in my life. And then he came. I heard him breathe deeper and held him even tighter. As I came down from the rush of my orgasm, I let my arms fall to my sides. His head was in the crook of my neck. I was sweaty and sticky all over. My legs were weak. I could hardly stand still.

He finally looked up and I realized he hadn't said a word after my embarrassing revelation. What was he thinking? He had a dazed but fierce look in his eyes. He slowly disentangled himself from my body. He was still dressed, with his pants and underwear around his ankles.

I was suddenly very afraid. I wished he would say something. Was he disappointed? Was he leaving now? He stepped back but I stayed against the wall, unable to move and break the dream.

He let out his breath and smiled wickedly. He took his clothes off very slowly, never for a moment taking his eyes off me. I was being fucked again with that look. I couldn't believe it. And then he spoke.

"I have wanted to do that for so long. And now I want to lick every inch of your body and enjoy you until you ask me to stop. So let's move to the bedroom, shall we?"