[M]y last [F]uck before she flew back home

It started with a trip to the beach. Running our fingers through the warm sand, letting seashells jingle rough in our palms. We tasted the summer air and the salt-spray of the ocean. We relaxed. It was the last day of our vacation.

Tomorrow, she would fly home to Montana and I would stay. I had a job in Atlanta waiting. I had a future career as an Architect. I had just graduated from university, but she had two more years. We thought of breaking off to live our separate lives but decided we were too in love to let things end.

We strived to make it work. We promised: to call every night, to write romantic letters, to stay steadfast. To always love. We were naïve and young, then.

But the promise of something greater kept our sanity. That hope, one day, of a picket fence with four dogs, white sedan and liquor cabinets well-stocked—we clung to that dream. We prayed it would not fade like dusk goes down to darkness. We worried. But those troubles were woes for another day.

Today was sun and mimosas on the beach. The drink was sweet but the memories sweeter. I buried my feet in the sand. She ran into the waves, a free spirit. We took pictures by the pier. The ocean breeze tossed her hair over her eyes, and she brushed it back, laughing, as I once-again fell irrevocably in love.

She was beautiful. Perfect jet-black hair rand down to her shoulders in curls that she straightened daily. Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. Her eyes flitted amber. She was chubby in all the right places, plenty of ass, and a solid set of breasts. She loathed her belly, but I found it cute. She was adorable, like a choir girl in public, but wild behind closed doors.

We ate chocolate-covered cherries and savored the evening, holding back for the feast to come.

In the night, she dressed jet-black and we went down to the boulevard.

Latin music serenaded the busy streets. Sand socketed the cobbles. Dirt caked with sweat in the heat of the dance. *And oh, did we dance*. Our bodies moved in and out in a frantic rhythm. Tonight was our last dance for months, if not years. I pulled her close. My hands grabbed her firm cheeks.

Through my khaki shorts, I pressed my quickly hardening cock against her and flashed a knowing smile.

She was lightning. You could see it in the amber of her eyes. Deep eyes. Mesmerizing. The sun setting on fluffy clouds as a storm rolled in, disrupting the dance. Wet drops fell with sweet relief in the heat-sweat of July. We danced for one song in the rain.

But the rain persevered, and we returned to our hotel room, drenched, wet, exhausted, ready for the night. The room was freshly cleaned and smelled of faint cherries. The king bed was made with crisp white linens. The window overlooked the city because I couldn’t afford a beach view. Sunlight beamed through the curtains and reflected off empty wineglasses.

We wasted little time.

I pulled back the black of her dress. Underneath was red lace. It caressed the outline of her thighs, striking. She was a catholic girl but tonight, we would pray forgiveness. There was no god to witness our sin. Tonight was the devil’s night.

“Love me,” she whispered.

I kissed down the side of her neck. She sighed. Her hands wrapped around me and she drew me towards her. I could spend eternity there, in her arms, feeling the warmth of her grasp. She undressed quickly. Her fingers tightening. She lowered her gaze and blinked and tossed her hair back on the white sheets we collapsed on.

I lowered myself. Planting kisses gentle on her skin. Exploring. My mouth went down to her chest, tongue swirling on hardened nipples. Pallid lips pressed against tender skin. Her soft moans made music to our moment.

Lower.

My lips touched her clit. My tongue lapped at the folds. Gently tasting, teasing, testing. She breathed a low-toned “oh” and I continued. It was salt and sweat and I was dripping, ready, but patient. From her lips the heavy, wet sighs urged me.

I drank her body like a panting dog.

She whispered, “don’t stop,” and the words caught in her throat with another moan.

Shimmers chiseled down her figure. Slow at first, but quickening. I quickened my pace and lapped tongue-in and tongue-on as I pressed harder. Deeper. My tongue swirled like our uncertain future. Through her love-tremors, I felt it all: pride, love, a willingness to be together for all our lives.

If only I could relive that moment.

I would have told her how much she meant to me. How much I cared.

I said those words through the beating rhythm of my tongue as she arched her back and bucked. Her thighs closed around my head. She drew me in. Her hands grasped my hair with white knuckles, shaking. Moaning. The sweet release came at once with all the tenderness of years of familiarity.

She rose and fell like the rhythm of our heartbeats, at the climax, as I lapped till the last.

She lay panting, exhausted, finished.

But I wasn’t finished with her; not yet. She lay near-motionless as I drew two silk ties from my luggage. Her eyes flashed questions to which I had no answers. Her lips curled in a smile.

“You’re a dirty little slut,” I said.

She loved this. The degradation. Ravaging. She loved to be teased and shamed, spanked rough as I fucked her merciless. I rarely obliged. There was something taboo about rough, unquestioned sex that made me uncomfortable. Maybe I was too gentle. Maybe I was too timid. But whatever the reason, rough sex was her kink that I rarely fulfilled.

But not tonight.

Tonight was her night.

I wrapped the tie around her wrist and tied them loose to the bedposts. One tie was silk patterned with yellow fishes, the other grey and blue stripes. Blue as my balls, yearning for her warmth, ready to explode all over or inside anything.

*Dear God,* I was horny.

And I wanted this. I wanted to give her a night she would never forget. Our relationship was dying but this night would live immortal as the best sex we have or will ever have. I slowly dropped my shorts and let my cock slip out the gap in my boxers.

She lay there staring down at me with a ‘fuck-me’ smile on her lips.

‘What are you gonna do?” she asked.

I smiled mischievously. “Whatever I want.”

I went down again, and this time she couldn’t even squirm. I was ravenous. Her moans were guttural, primal. Her lust fulfilled. She was ripe–I ate her like my life depended on it. She was soaked, dripping on the white bedsheets.

“Just fuck me”—she gasped—“Please fuck me.”

I was evil so instead, I rubbed my cock against her clit. I teased. I let it dip between and tempt the entrance. And oh, *did it tempt*. She was angry. Passionate. Demanding. I could lose myself in the moment and let myself go, like an animal, but I restrained myself. I knew tonight would end in savagery. But not yet. Not yet.

“Fuck me!” she said, and this time she wasn’t asking.

I bent down to kiss her. As our lips locked, I slipped inside, feeling her moan inside my mouth.

It was so tight. So wet. My cock filled her, squeezing inside as I plunged deeper, deeper until my full length was inside her. Her eyes began to roll back.

Then I paused. Grinned. “Not yet.”

I pulled out and she glared. I undid the know from her wrists and demanded she flip over. She wouldn’t get the satisfaction of watching me fuck her. No, I was going to ravage her from the back, throw her face in the sheets and make her cum with her ass up in the air like the naughty slut she was.

She set me loose and I wasn’t going back in my vanilla-sex cage until the beast inside of me was satisfied.

I ret-ed the ties and forced her down. Her back arched. I squeezed her ass, firm. I slapped her. My cock was dripping with precum and she was dripping down her thighs. I slapped my cock on her back and it stung just a tad. Too much. I eased my cock lower and positioned myself.

She wiggled and my cock slipped inside.

The moment lasted like an eternity. All the years of restraint, of love, of passion culminated in this one night. Everything was changing. Nothing was going to be the same come tomorrow. But for tonight, we had each other. We had love and life and sex, the simple things made merit with the weight of the world a second thought. I took a breath.

I knew that if I let myself go, we would never go back, we could never go back.

Then I let go.

She moaned softly as I started to thrust. She was so tight. Divine. My stokes rose and fell with each breath. Soft at first. Then faster. Two. Three. In and out until I slammed myself into her, out bodies clapping with sweat and cream and love, god, the bed rocking as her moans came harder and deeper with each breath.

Her fingers curled around the pillows. Her pussy gripped as I plunged. She shook. I shook back and slapped her ass and it brought another moan from her pursed lips.

“Gonna. C-Cum. Please.” She said, the words barely slipping, her thoughts slipping, language lost to the lust.

“Not yet,” I said, panting. “When I say.”

“Please!”

I pulled out and let my cock rest wet and sloppy on her back while I undid the ties on her left hand.

“Rub your clit,” I demanded.

She was bent back, ass in the air, holding herself awkwardly with her right hand while she learned to let her left hand slip lower. It was strenuous. I knew she couldn’t hold herself up forever. This was it, the close, the climax. I could feel it in the humid sweat of the air. Feel it in the tremors that quaked her body every time I plunged.

“Cum for me,” I said, thrusting deeper. “Cum for me.”

She tensed and moaned, and her eyes rolled back as her mouth went wide in a sloppy smile.

“Cum with me” she whispered.

The words sent shivers down my already tingling spine. I thrust, two shallow, then one deep, burying myself inside her and feeling every inch of her warmth, our bodies pressed together, summer lighting in the azure sky overhead, as the rain crashed down and waves of pleasure crashed like waves on the ocean.

We came together in one moment of bliss, the taste of cherries on our lips.

A wave of exhaustion rolled through me and she smiled, biting her lips, and wiggling in a sexy dance of victory. I pulled out, dripping. Our bodies soaked; the sheets ruined.

It was over.

The next day roe like the oncoming storm. The ride to the airport was silent. There was so much I wanted to tell her, so much she wanted to say, but the words escaped us. Maybe we weren’t ready for more commitment. Maybe all we knew was slutty sex in the sultry warmth of summer.

I didn’t have the answers. I still don’t. But one thing was certain: that was the best sex we ever had.

On the airport tarmac, wet-eyed, trying to hold it together, I broke down.

“I don’t want you to go,” I said. “Please.”

She nodded, saying nothing, but her silence said more than words ever could. She left with a quick hug. One last kiss goodbye. And somewhere near Atlanta, in a jet caressing sunlight, my love flew away.

​

***
I’d like to say that it all worked out in the end, but life can be cruel. We broke amicably after a year of long-distance. That night was the beginning of the sad, slow end, but even now, it’s nice to relive some of the happier moments.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/gktk8y/my_last_fuck_before_she_flew_back_home