Rendezvous

Shelly let my cock slip from her parted lips, a thin strand of white, glistening cum escaping her wonderfully lush mouth with the slip. She playfully licked what she could of the cum from her chin, the rest she gathered up on her finger, sucking it off in even a more playful way, and yet still reminding me just how damn nearly innocent while sexy she was all the same. We are both completely spent, seduction and arousal making way to comfort and playfulness. Shelly always preferred to end a rendezvous with me with my cock in her mouth. She claimed she enjoyed it because it seemed to give me a more tortured pleasure, because the pleasure lasted so much longer. She also claimed she really enjoyed the gentle intimacy of it, of tasting us together after a final, long session of sex, and laughter, and intimacy that the rendezvous always brought. She also claimed it had as much to do with balancing out how our rendezvous usually began.

She was right, there was something very different to getting my cock sucked off masterfully at a time when I’m nearly sexually exhausted versus when I’m sexually charged and haven’t fucked in over a week. She had much more control of my pleasure and there was a sweeter agony to it. I have become somewhat lost to the intimacy of it as well though, there is a tenderness that seems to surface at the end of our trysts. The way she curls up into me after and almost blissfully falls asleep in my arms, it is a sweetness indescribable. How the sweat of our bodies suddenly evaporates leaving our flesh feeling as one. Stuck together, but not by anything sticky, but rather out of necessity. Leaving that feeling of not knowing where I end and she begins. It is simply wonderful, even though always temporary.

In that particular rendezvous though, that blowjob ended up not being the end. Shelly had to catch a very early flight the next morning. She couldn’t help herself by ever so gently stroking my cock awake, mounting me, fucking me, waking me, then really riding my cock one last time. It was a sweet way to be woken. I had a stray thought that if I got to wake up that way everyday, I might finally turn into a morning person. I shared my joke with Shelly and she laughed, right before popping my poor, tired, wet cock into her mouth once more. God, I loved the end of our rendezvous, even though it was always bittersweet. I shifted her around slightly so I could lick her creamy pussy one more time. It was the first time we 69’ed at the end. She initially stopped what she was doing. I almost think she was annoyed I was interrupted her cock-sucking meditation. Pretty soon though she was back sucking me and moaning around my cock in wicked delight again, only taking time to stop when she needed to cum all over my face from my licking. As she relaxed away from her own orgasm, she went back to her meditation, with my cock properly back inside her warm, wet, slowly teasing mouth. It made me a mess, I shuddered uncontrollably, strange sounds escaped my throat. I really started to wonder why I would ever want my cocked sucked any other time. When she finally licked me over the brink to orgasm, there wasn’t much to it, but it felt like the world cracked all the same.

After, we took as much time in the shower together as we dared, touching for contact, washing each other with a tender intimacy, kissing each other getting as close to love as we dared. As fucking fantastic and intense as the sex of that particular rendezvous was, it was that last shower that haunted me the most. Making my desires wish for something more permanent with Shelly.

Once we were at the airport, eating an overpriced terrible breakfast, I almost dared to ask the question that was always hovering between us but never spoken aloud. Almost asked her to forget her flight and to fly away with me instead. But, I knew it would be futile. I knew what her answer would be before I would have gotten the question out. So why ruin an otherwise perfect rendezvous? My heart still ached for it though and ached even more when I watched her plane take off. I let my mind play out fantasies of playing house together with Shelly and having her ride me awake every morning. I really think we were so connected that we could make it work. I recall thinking that I will brave the unspoken question next time, as I board my plane; the plane that would fly me away from another near perfect weekend just to plop me back into my otherwise mundane life of work and sleep and work again.

~~~

I slide the key through the card reader and hear the lock to the door disengage with a click. My heart is pounding, my cock is throbbing, and I cannot wait to see Shelly. To see her, taste her, make her cum. To share meals, laughter and just enjoy the weekend with her once again.

As soon as the door closes behind me, I lock it, just in case we get overzealous tonight and sleep well past the morning. It has happened before, with almost embarrassing results of the cleaning staff discovering just how much we can destroyed a room. I hear a multitude of clicks coming from the room and as I step in and see her, she is wearing a not-so-playful and wicked smile on her lips. She has her hands handcuffed to the iron-wrought headboard of the bed. My cock just wants to rip through my pants to be set free and slid inside of her at the earliest possible convenience. The view of her like that is that stunning and erotic. Shelly is decorated in plaid, covering all of the parts I don’t want covered. Naked in all the parts in between, with the exception of the white stockings ending in lace halfway up her thighs, the black stiletto pumps that possibly might kill me later when we finally fuck and she has her legs wrapped around me. The grin on her face tells me she has been a very naughty little slut. She says as much with few words. She jingles her cuffed wrists to amplify that thought.
“Lucky for you, I was not the help,” I joked as I surveyed her, wondering just how I am going to play this initial naughty scenario out.

“I actually was hoping you were“, Shelly said with mock longing, “I would have much rather had you walk in on me handcuffed to the bed while the cleaning lady was eating my pussy and torturing my nipples with a feather duster.”

Her words do odd things in my imagination. Her words always do odd things to me period. There was something about Shelly’s voice that always resonated in me, stirring my desires a bit too easily. I continued to enjoy the fantasy of her being pleasantly molested by the help until I spot a fading bruise on her left side along her rib cage. Rage suddenly bubbled to the surface. Her fucking boyfriend was beating her again. I not-so-affectionately refer to him in my mind as Mr. Douche Bag. When was she going to find the will to leave that guy? Virtually anyone was better than him, even if for whatever reason it couldn’t be me.

She saw where my eyes rested on her flesh, saw the tone shift in my face, “I deserved it, I made him mad…” I held up my hand, silencing her. I didn’t want to have the same talk that ends up going in circles, with Shelly suddenly feeling distant. I didn’t want Mr. Douche Bag to ruin one of my rendezvous with Shelly. He had ruined too many of them as it were.

I slid out of my pants and my shirt, leaving only my boxer briefs on. I let myself calm and reminded myself that I WAS Shelly’s temporary escape from him just as she has become my temporary escape from my reality. I reminded myself that perhaps something about this weekend would give her whatever strength, confidence, self-esteem, whatever to just leave him. I let my fingers trace up one of her white-stocking legs. Her costume wasn’t needed, but I did appreciate the effort and let her see that in my eyes. Whenever Mr. Douche Bag entered our weekends, she would suddenly become a very fragile thing. It surprised me the first time it happened, because Shelly in my mind’s eye was anything but fragile. But, just the thought of him turned her into a fragile, scared, broken thing. It broke my heart that all she would take or wanted from me was the escapes that we shared. So, I succumbed and that was what I gave her once again, another escape. Another weekend of temporary bliss in some foreign town away from the mundane and pain of our regular lives.
I think back to the first time we had sex; I tossed Shelly on the bed of my hotel room, pulled up her skirt, literally ripped off her soaked panties, and then feasted on her cunt. It shocked her that that was the first thing I was driven do to her, with her. It shocked her that I seemed quite content licking her, eating her out, and occasionally relying on my fingers for some support to pleasuring her. Needless to say, Mr. Douche Bag’s face never got near Shelly’s wonderfully, nectar-sweetened cunt and whatever other sexual partners she had before him most likely gave it just a cursory lick, their foolish loss. She acted like a woman deprived of such pleasures that very first time and I still see glimpses of that woman. She eventually gave in to my hungry mouth though, relaxed and just enjoyed it, until she got to the point that grabbing my hair and fucking my face seemed like the most natural thing to do; creating a sloppy and wonderful mess when she finally came. So, it became part of the routine. Our sex always started with me feasting on her pussy and virtually always ended with her sucking on my very spent cock. However else we wanted to fill in the in between was fine, but those two events always book ended each rendezvous.

I let my fingers flick up the plaid skirt to find her pussy unclad, waiting for me. I let my fingers drift lightly back and forth between her smooth, inner thighs, getting so very close, but never touching what her eyes tell me she wants me to touch. My fingers finally brush her bush of pubic hair, then circle around to her pussy lips, slick with her juice, and her body goes into a small spasm from the contact, the connection. Shelly’s eyes are hungry things, desperate for my mouth to start feasting on her cunt, wanting to watch me get lost down there. I can almost taste her lust, her need for it. If it wasn’t for the routine we established, I would actually be finding other ways to tease her because of the situation she forced herself into was so incredibly unexpected and erotic. I let her watch me suck her juice from my fingers, her eyes tell me that is not where she wants to watch me sucking her juice from.

I give her a, “Mmmmm…” as much for effect as because I really enjoy tasting the tang of her again after all of this time. She is a bit sweeter than usual. My cock bulges in my shorts, a nice wet spot forming there. She curses at me.
“Language like that, and I might just have to stop.” I said in a playful bit of mockery.
“No! Please!? I’ll be good!” Her response creates a sudden shift, almost sounding helpless and broken. If Shelly’s words were not laced with a hint of fear, they would have turned me on to the point of breaking. “Dammit! I am not him, I will never hurt you!” Are the thoughts going through my angry head instead. It passes in a moment, and I realize there is a dual-layer to this game, even if she didn’t expect it. No matter how I want to ravage her and enjoy her being bound this way, I have to protect her as well. Part of her subconscious was being held by him right now, the part that never feels that she could truly run away from him for good.

I get up on the bed, spread her legs and pressed my crotch against her pussy and start to grind. Just needing the moment of near contact and let my mind just get lost with her and letting nothing else get in the way. Her look was that of a coiled spring, confused and anxious because this was not the usual beginning. I smiled, then holding her hips, I slid my body down, so her pussy leaves a trail of kisses on my abs, my chest, my neck, then my chin, and finally my mouth kissing it back. Kissing her sweet, soaked pussy just how I would start a hungry kiss on her mouth. My lips part so my tongue can explore her and make love to her clit and her dripping cunt. I want to get lost in it and just let go of all restraint, but I take my time, and slowly make sure she is ripe and on the edge before I really consume her. It is strange getting her to that point and not feeling her shove my face into her overcharged muff with her hands. She is in such a sweet agony. This is what we both yearn for in our escapes into each other. I let go of all restraint, my lips and tongue overwhelm her engorged clit while my fingers enter her pussy, reaching, stroking, probing, finding.

She cums without the usual warnings. She cums in a small gush that still somehow drowns my fingers. She cums in filthy utterances. She cums and her body arches, and flails, and arches even harder. Her hands grasp the metal, because she has to grab something, anything. She is an explosion of sexual expression. I stand up and pull my shorts off, my cock juts forward in eager anticipation. I mount her and firmly push my cock into the center of her orgasm; feeling the splendor of a still climaxing cunt surrounding me, engulfing me, taking me in, and never letting go. I rip the plaid bra she is wearing open, letting her breast jiggle free. She sees only lust in my eyes, lust for her and I feel her tighten around me. I fuck her through her orgasms. I fuck her through her blissful tears. Her stiletto pumps did not stab me in the back, but they came pretty damn close. I fill her with cock, with my desires, and finally with a rapid wash of cum. When I finally uncuff her after all of it, she wraps her body around me and clings to me like I’m a piece of flotsam in a brutally stormy sea.
The rest of that rendezvous was spent mostly in that room, making as close to tender love as we dared. And when it came time for the parting blowjob, she was even more tender than usual, and it was more delightfully torturous. All I could think of was convincing her to get on my plane with me instead, and making love to this wonderful woman until we grew old and died together, in one of those after-the-last-cock-suck-embraces.

~~~

During the next rendezvous, she is in a strangely exhibitionist sort of mood. The weekend was filled with playing the most perverse game of hide and seek around the unfamiliar town I could ever imagine. It started in the art institute, each time the seeker found the hider, the seeker had to arouse the hider somehow. At the beginning, it was difficult because the museum was so crowded, but it forced us get creative. In the end, we were practically doing everything except fucking and it became a lot harder to even consider discretion. During dinner, we joked about how the security team at the art institute would probably never erase any of the security tapes that had us both visible. Joking melted away as our fingers played with each others private parts under the table. Shelly even boldly went down on me when she knew I was on the brink of cumming. I would have never expected such publicly wanton behavior from her, she never seemed the type. Stranger still, I didn’t seem to care that I was behaving just as wantonly.

The last night we stayed out late. We literally danced the night away. The dancing was torturous, teasing without any opportunity for release. We boarded the train to go back to the hotel, but never got off. When we were finally alone after an hour and a half of snuggling and whatever petting we could get away with, Shelly mounted me, whispering in my ear, “I have always wanted to do this…” It was awkward until it wasn’t. It was slow, until it needed to be fast. It stopped in a tortured embrace of her pussy around my cock, and her dress hiding the fusion when some drunken fellow stumbled onto the car. The look he gave was told us he knew Shelly was probably not just sitting on my lap. It also seemed to look like it wasn’t the first time he had seen it. When he passed out, Shelly lightly ground my cock deeper inside her. I never needed to fuck so badly as I did in that moment. Fuck in motion, not this stuck in time sort of fucking we were doing. She didn’t really start to fuck (me in motion) again until drunk bastard stumbled out of the train car. She fucked me in earnest then. She never rode me so hard. It was wonderful. She was wonderful. She seemed…free. It made me wonder…

When we finally stumbled into our room, I don’t believe I ever quite enjoyed the end-of-the-rendezvous blowjob as that one. There was something extra special about it, that I never could quite figure out. We never went to sleep, We nearly made love in the shower, until she stopped me.

“No, I want to take this arousal on the plane with me. And anyway, there is not enough time for me to suck your cock after.”

We did end up having time to kill at the airport though, so she dragged me into the women’s bathroom and sucked my cock off for breakfast. There wasn’t anything tender about it. Just wanton lust and the need to fill her mouth with my cum as quickly as she could make me.

After, Shelly had this wicked, slutty grin as we ate breakfast. The way she licked the icing off her cinnamon rolls was scandalous. Watching her plane take off left me feeling more empty than all of our previous rendezvous. I already missed her and the sex was strangely what I missed the least. I should have asked her to stay and fly away with me. Should have, would have, could have…

~~~

Shelly and I are laying in bed, touching each other softly. It was hard to touch her and giving her any pleasure through all of the bruises. She begged me when we first saw each other not to say anything and just to make love to her. So, I did, as tenderly and lovingly as possible under the circumstances. Through every gentle caress, every light kiss and lick. I never touched a woman so tenderly, in part because I was never forced to be this tender. With every caress, kiss, lick, embrace, my heart breaks a little more. I want to kill who did this to her. I cannot imagine how anyone can hurt a woman like this. I am glad I cannot imagine it, I don’t want to know how it is possible. Worst though, I still cannot imagine why she stays with him. Yet, through it all, I see the beautiful creature that is Shelly. She weeps when I tell her so, because she knows within the intimacy of it all, I am not just saying the words but mean it with every fiber of my being.
Her mouth made love to my cock during that parting. We never fucked on that rendezvous, there was no possible way. I have never felt her need to have my cock in her mouth more than that time. I have never felt a woman sucking on my cock in a way that made me feel loved quite like that.

It was hard to bathe her after, but she said my touch took away the pain.
She thanked me at the airport for just loving her and not judging her. She held me for almost too long of a time. I almost whispered in her ear, “Come away with me.” Almost. Instead, what slipped out was, “I love you Shelly, and will never judge you.” The smile she returned me was a tearful surrender. When her plane took off, most of my heart went with her. I hoped without hope that it could protect her more than she seemed to want to protect herself.

~~~

Shelly missed our next rendezvous. Her texts said she was fighting laryngitis and couldn’t talk. She did call me once to prove it. That turned out to be one of the worst weekends of my life. We both lived for those getaways. We both have grown to depend on them. This particular rendezvous was in the place we first met. That first time, both of us were in town for different business reasons, both of us were alone, both of us were hurting in our own way. Both of us at a crossroads in our lives. Both of us realizing we both needed the comfort of a stranger. Both of us leaving the rendezvous as something more than friends, not-quite-lovers, and definitely no room for something more. Both of us finding something in each other we both desperately needed and would need again. This was to be an anniversary of sorts. But I was there alone that time. It was too easy to get drunk in the bar that we first met. Almost too easy to take the cute blonde that flirted with me back to my room. If it was a different town, under similar circumstances, I just might have. I was feeling that hurt, deep down knowing her excuse was just that, an excuse. Shelly was not one to lie to me, so I could only imagine how bad things were, how physically and emotionally beaten she was. Just how bad it had to be to not want to see my face take her in. Not hurt that she wasn’t here to share the weekend with, but hurt because she did not trust even me to take away her pain. Hurt because I realized that perhaps I never do.

…Under similar circumstances, I just might have taken the blonde back to my room, but, the room back at the hotel was THE room, mine and Shelly’s first room. I didn’t have the heart to invite the cute blonde back with me, even though I didn’t owe Shelly anything, or so I tried to convince myself. The cute blonde was a persistent little thing though. Her name was April, her voice a simmering, sexual honey, an open invitation to all sorts of possibilities. April gave every hint she was in the mood to be used and to use. I politely declined, paid for her drinks, thanked her for the company, and left the bar. I went back to the room and fell on the bed. Too tired and drunk to try to get out of my clothes. Couldn’t quite pass out so I let myself remember the first time with Shelly until I started to think about why she wasn’t there with me. I didn’t want to feel the hurt. I didn’t want to think about Shelly. I didn’t want to think about how much I needed her or how badly beaten she had to have been. I seriously gave second thought about seeing if April was still at the bar, regretting leaving her a lot more, selfishly. I suddenly had a need to be selfish, to try to forget. Small chance in that though, she was too cute and too ripe to be alone for too long. I braved the trip back to the bar and she was indeed gone. I didn’t bother to stay for another drink. Nothing would have numbed the feelings inside of me. Instead, I failed at sleep in my room. The rest of the weekend was a failed attempt to make best of a solo get-away. I didn’t have the heart to hook up with a stranger and honestly didn’t have as obvious an opportunity as I did with April.

The plane ride home at the end of that weekend was a miserable experience and I wasn’t sure of all of the reasons why.

~~~

I was fucking Shelly from behind in an excited rhythm. I loved the feeling of her ass slapping against me, watching the sway and counter sway of her breasts as I fucked her. Listening to her begging me to cum with her because she was so close. Feeling her cunt explode around my cock one second, then two before I mix my explosion with hers. Not quite in sync, but pretty close. The whole weekend was that way. She was extra lustful, like an addict in withdrawal and is suddenly giving in to her drug of choice. After she untangled the knot of collapsed flesh that we became and regained some of our senses, she slithered down my body and took my hyper-sensitive cock into her delicious little mouth. No tenderness, just slutty hunger. No intimate connection, just her wanting to get off with me trapped in her perfect little slutty mouth. I didn’t mind in the least. I even watched her fingers attack her cunt, her attempt at getting my cock and her cunt in sync at least one time during this rendezvous. I came more forcefully in her mouth than I would have imagined possible. She came around her fingers a second later. Not quite in sync, but closer. I always preferred not to cum together, it let me enjoy her cumming more when I wasn’t lost in my own orgasm. But, sometimes she desperately needed to cum together. It had meaning for her, so during weekends she needed it, I always tried. We would always hit it at least once. That time, the best we could do was a second apart.

We laid there for awhile. “You know when I missed our rendezvous a few sessions back?”, she suddenly asked in our embrace. “I…didn’t really miss it because I was sick, but I wasn’t lying about barely able to talk.”
“I know…”, was my only response. That and trying to hold her as close as possible.

The embrace led to lovemaking. We came together and we stayed joined as long as possible. It was a rendezvous that didn’t end with my cock in her mouth. Neither of us seemed to care.

~~~

Shelly and I were like old, familiar lovers. A perfect blend of good conversation, great food, fun exploration of a new town, and love-making. Tender when it needed to be tender and sweet. Frantic when it needed to be lustful and wanton. The parting blowjob was a quite messy thing. It was almost fun when she was cleaning me up in the shower, until it wasn’t fun. We made love in the shower then until the water was too cold to stand it anymore. This time, there probably was enough time for another parting blowjob, but we seemed too happy leaving things as we did. Until we actually had to part at the airport.

We talked the most about our mundane lives as we ever did that weekend. There was no sting to it. I didn’t push the Mr. Douche Bag issue too much, but did push it a bit and reminded her I would always be there if she needed.

“You are here with me. You have always been here when I needed.” We left it at that.

Neither of us seemed excited about our flights, about returning to our mundane lives. For the first time, I thought to myself, forget coming away with me, let’s just stay here. Her plane was in the air before I found the courage to say exactly that. Some elderly lady gave me a look of quiet sympathy when I uttered the thought aloud.

~~~

Shelly stood me up again. Missed the rendezvous again. Didn’t bother to pick up her phone, just kept texting me that, she couldn’t talk to me right then and she was so sorry.

I checked out early and spent extra to fly back home early. All the while not sure if I should be scared, mad, or just plain hurt.

~~~

I sat at the outside table of the bistro Shelly asked me to meet her at. When I saw her, she looked radiant. She was glowing and she was the happiest I have ever seen her. Was Mr. Douche Bag suddenly out of her life? My instincts said yes. My heart fluttered at the possibilities now that she was truly free. My cock ached at what a special weekend this would be if she was truly free, and the shadow of that asshole was not hovering over us anymore.

After the fiercest hug she had ever given me subsided and trying to wipe the tears from her face, tears mixed with different shades of happiness and laced with bittersweetness. I knew we were over as we sat down at our table and I glanced the rock sitting atop her ring finger. My worst fears suddenly forming in my throat.

She looked ashamed, but wanted to tell me in person and wanted to just see me again, even if it ended up being one last time. I thanked God when she assured me she was not engaged to Mr. Douche Bag. And for the first time, she told me the full story of Mr. Douche Bag and the hows and whys that it was so hard to break away. Some of it made sense, some of it didn’t, but it really didn’t matter at that point. She was finally free.

Her fiance was named Tony. He was an old friend from high school that crushed after her the whole time, and obviously that crushing rekindled when they met up by chance. Things just clicked perfectly between them. It was enough to make her slowly want to finally break away from the asshole and start anew. With Tony, she was able to have love and keep the good parts of her mundane life. Implicitly implying that, with me she would have been running away, and thus, never fully healing.

We spent the rest of the weekend strangely platonic. Shelly did joke once that after Tony proposed, she wished she would have waited to have said ‘yes’ so she could have squeezed in one more, traditional sort of rendezvous with me. We both laughed at the absurdity of the thought and perhaps to cover up the wanting of it. Minus missing all of the sex, it was one of the nicest rendezvouses ever, bittersweet as it was. I was happy for her, thrilled Mr. Douche Bag was gone, and happy to know that through it all, we had not just been having an affair of sorts, but developed a pretty strong friendship along the way. When I saw her plane take off, I thought it might be for the last time. I ended up being wrong about that. We did get together on occasion, but only when she was in my town or I happened to be in hers. The first time I met Tony, he thanked me for my part in pulling her away from Mr. Douche Bag’s sphere of influence, dominance, whatever the hell it was. It was strange, but there was no strange rivalry between us. In that current setting, I would not have had a chance to of won Shelly back, even if I wanted to duel Tony to the death. They were in love and I never fully had her in the first place. We only existed on the fringe of one of her facets. Now as friends, we knew each other better than we ever had. It was nice, but different. As all things that come to an end must become.
~~~

On the day of Shelly and Tony’s wedding, I called Shelly to give her a few words of advice and encouragement. She was bummed that I wasn’t there but I told her that in a few hours, she would not even noticed my absence. I even joked that I might have been too tempted to stop the wedding if I would have been there. It was a joke, I wouldn’t have, even if part of me wanted to. But, it made her laugh and blush and she sounded a lot more confident about the wedding the rest of the brief conversation, jitters melting away replaced with excited anticipation.

I spent the day of their wedding in the town where Shelly and my relationship began. It seemed strangely appropriate. I visited all of the old haunts I even got our old room one last time. A final goodbye seemed in order. A final time to allow myself old memories without any guilt. A final time to allow myself a little longing for the woman that I loved and had to let go of, at least in that way.

I was in much better spirits in the bar Shelly and I met at this time around than I was the time she ‘lost her voice’. It was late in the evening when I saw a blonde woman I slightly recognized. Her hair was longer and she wasn’t radiating to the whole bar that she was interested in a tryst this time around. Quite the contrary. She seemed almost, reflective. What was her name again? Amber? Autumn? April? That was it! April. I went up to her and said hi to her by name. She look surprised, trying to recall who I was. I reminded her of the time we met and apologized if I offended her in anyway. She was only bummed that I seemed to be throwing mixed signals. I gave her the most basic part of the story and asked if I could take her to dinner to someplace a bit nicer.

April took me to this wonderful little Italian place that only a local would know of. We were like old friends that had been away for too long. So much so that I told her more than the basic parts of the Shelly story. April took it upon herself to help me forget all about Shelly that weekend by taking me back to her place. When I got on the plane, I almost regretted leaving. It was the first time I experience punch drunk love. I felt like an idiot. But, April wasn’t just the tonic for my soul in helping me tie up whatever loose ends I was feeling regarding Shelly. She was, in fact, the tonic my soul had been searching for most of my life.
~~~

The next weekend, I met April at my airport. A week was too long to be apart she teased. Back at my house we fucked in agreement to that thought, and both seemed content we didn’t wait longer, even though it seemed silly and rash. It still felt wonderful as heaven in the morning! Later I took her to my favorite Sicilian bistro that only a local would know about. She fell in love with the place. I think that night we officially fell in love, even if both of us were still too new to it to admit it aloud.

She would fly out to me at least once a month, until she found a job here, then she moved in. Now the only thing we try to do once a month is to eat at our Sicilian restaurant, one of the few shared passions we couldn’t share in our bedroom, unless we asked for take out. We fucked like bunnies nearly daily. We loved like soul mates perpetually. Our secret desires slowly shared with each other only enhance our bond.

~~~

April and I married the following April, almost as a lark. I remember the wedding ceremony as clearly as I remember making love to her this morning. The reception was an annoying blur of our loved ones keeping us away from each other, but not purposely doing so.

I remember the slow process of peeling away the layers of her wedding garb when we were FINALLY alone. She was so beautiful. We shared our body’s countless times before, yet I had never wanted her more and never more enraptured with her beauty. We found the fine line that fucking and making love share that night and never forgot it. She was always the piece missing from my life and I was the one missing from hers. I feasted on her lips, her neck, her breasts her tummy, her thighs, and her delicately, delightful pussy. I never tasted anything quite so divine as April. With our body’s exhausted and lost in an embrace of flesh and love and wholesome lust. Her mouth worked down my body. My lips, neck, chest, abs, cock.

The pleasure of her lips around my cock was an unknown form of rapture. Her lips and tongue and hand slowly brought my cock to life. Sucking and stroking, sucking and stroking. Her free hand finding one of mine and just holding it. The intimacy strangely perfect. Sucking and stroking. Until I came. She pulled my cock from her mouth as I orgasmed, not concerned with the cum that sprayed her chin and breasts and she mounted me. It was divine! She didn’t fuck me, she just held me within her. She laid down upon my chest, I could feel the strands of my hot cum gluing us together. We kissed while she held my quivering, post-orgasmic cock deep inside her pussy. We could taste all of each other in that kiss. Every hope and desire we had for each other. We struggled not to move. We struggled to stay connected. April smiled drunkenly and lazily and muttered, “I’ve always wanted to do this. To have you in me, with me just like this…it is perfect…” It was perfect.

I never told April about the end-of-the-rendezvous blow jobs. It didn’t matter. All I could think about was April in our moment. In part because she really was the only creature that mattered in my life just then. And…perhaps because it was a beginning, not an ending. We were both asleep before my cock finally slipped out of her. But, never were there two people more connected than April and I in that sleepy embrace.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/dbzolr/rendezvous