What would you do ;)

Transcript

It all comes back to me as I wake. Last night, a cool bar with amber lighting. Fancy crystal glasses containing fancier cocktails laden with herbs, fruit and baubles of ice.

I was there with my friends, celebrating my divorce. He was drinking alone. Scotch, maybe.

Perhaps a bourbon. I saw him before he saw me, but as I excused myself to go to the bathroom, I made a point of striding through the place like I owned it. And our eyes met.

All those memories came crashing back, at least for me. Jack was the first man I loved. First man who made me come.

First to show me real passion. But it never lasted. Yet, as we caught one another's eye, even for just a moment, I knew it wasn't for lack of passion we went our separate ways.

His lips parted, and he blinked twice, loosened his tie, and mouthed my name. My nipples instantly hardened, and even though I hadn't put on underwear that night, hoping to screw some random bloke mindlessly, I tossed that notion out the window. Perhaps I would jump headfirst back into something deep and meaningful again.

Jack followed me into the corridor leading to the bathrooms, and I couldn't breathe for thinking of what it might be like to be together again. Have his hands on me, his tongue, his cock. Tony.

Tess. Is it you? He demanded.

It's me, you fool. I turned around and wanted to hurt him, but I couldn't. Not only did he look wounded, but he looked sad, too.

We came together for another sort of violence, grasping and clawing at one another, tongues duelling. Somehow, we found a closet to topple into. Dark, we could hardly see one another, let alone what we were contending with.

As he bit into my lip and shoved a hand into the top of my blue dress, I must put my foot in what seemed like a bucket. Tess. Tess.

Tess. Tess. Tess.

He repeated over and over. I slid down the side drip on my dress, and he devoured my breasts. His ruthless sucking and licking made me so wet, I began to coat the inside of my thighs.

We crashed around the room, my hands on the front of his trousers, his digging under my skirt to find I didn't have knickers on either. The dark was really dark, but eventually we discerned a counter which he lifted me onto. In that small, near pitch black, he took to his knees and lifted my dress, drinking from my pussy with the thirst of a man who'd been crossing the desert for three days without drop.

I had to slap two very determined hands across my mouth to muffle my screams as I came. Rapidly, one after another, after another, his tongue was unrelenting, inside me then lashing my clit back inside me, licking the length of me. His thick fingers joined in now and again.

I lost myself as he reminded me what passion was, and when he finally had drunk enough of my nectar, he speared me open with the power of a machine until I needed his hands over my mouth too, or else I'd have surely drawn the attention of staff or other revelers, wondering if I was okay. Sweaty, streaming with cum, and disheveled, I didn't return to the bar. We ran out the back door, got in an Uber, and came here to this hotel room.

I made some excuses via text to my friends, none of whom knew anything about Jack, nor will they ever know anything. I'm not sharing this man. This will be my sex story.

I can only describe our proper reunion once we got back to the room as like two creatures who have lived among aliens for so long, finally reuniting with familiar, someone recognisable. Thus, we were spurred on to be our entire true selves, like we had never been before. He drank the leavings of himself from my body and didn't let up for an hour, my body naked as his remained clothed.

I was thrown around the bed so he could drink and suck and lick me from all angles, his hands urgent on my body as he plied me over and over and over again. The fucking was relentless and wild. It went on forever, and like a dream, we floated for hours and hours, a delirium like no other than scent of his, wood and salt, the firmness of his body against mine, the perfect way he'd kiss me then, still the same now.

He devoured my rosebud before filling me with lube. He blasted the front of my body to the hotel room window while he fucked me up the ass for anyone to see as he hammered into me like I was his perfect slut. I was constantly drenched all night, and I would sleep for a minute or two before he'd slip his fingers into me again, his lazy explorations, his lazier kissing demanding that I eventually explode and scream for him, loudly.

Having dealt with the initial frenzy last night, something different remains this morning as I wake. I find it how funny he looks in his sleep, so much less the animal he was just a few hours ago. All I wake with are loving thoughts, not so much the carnal, irresponsible sexual yearnings that I had last night, to be broken open, eaten alive, devoured, and made to feel like I didn't belong to myself anymore.

No, this morning, things are different for some reason. Nearly 13 years ago, he ended it with me and broke my heart. He thought I should go and find someone more suitable, and the notion he didn't want me enough to overcome any hurdle was too much for me to bear.

I let him go. Never again, however. This morning, I wake feeling reborn, rejuvenated, alive.

I never want this feeling to end. I will do everything in my power to keep him, love him, secure him, starting with showing him just how much I want him, need him, and have to have him.