Used at the 15 year reunion [MF]

So, are you going to the reunion?

The messaged bubble popped up on Diana’s facebook. It had been 15 years since she’d dated Steven, but seeing a message from him still made her heart jump a bit. An entire life had happened between senior year of high school and now: college, careers, families. She was married. Had kids. A life. So why did he still have such that effect on her?

I mean, she didn’t have to think _that_ hard about it. He had that effect because he was handsome as fuck. And intelligent, and generally nice. And life had been good to him, and unlike most of her friends he’d gotten hotter with age. And he was witty. And charming. And that intoxicating mixture of sweet guy and bad boy. Yeah.

But beyond the physical aspects, Steven had been Diana’s first love. And Diana was a romantic. She couldn’t forget him.

Yeah. it will be nice 2 see everyone

Her reply bounced on his computer screen. Steven wasn’t entirely sure why he still messaged Diana on occasion. It had been 15 years since they had seen each other. So much had changed in the meantime. Steven had a life. A wife, kids, an extraordinary career. In the 15 years since high school Steven had been with (and married, natch) women that were hotter, smarter, sweeter than Diana. So why did she still have that effect on him?

I mean, he didn’t have to think _that_ hard about it. Diana was pretty. But mostly, she was _into_ him. Like, _really_ into him. And she had that naive, sweet, almost _simple_ vibe that made her seem… _suggestible_. He often thought about the things he could have done with her back then, had he been a little wiser and a little bit less of a jerk. Ugh, they would have had fun. He regreted not doing that.

And of course, who could forget her tits. _God_ she had nice tits. Spectacular even. Pretty, petite, double D’s. Yeah. Of course he messaged her on occasion.

***
Diana looked at her reflection in the elevator mirror as she rode it up to the rooftop bar. She felt uncomfortable in her tight navy blue dress. _Am I overdressed?_ was her first thought. Her second thought was to compare herself to the way she looked when she was 18. She’d gained some weight—of course she had—in the intervening 15 years, but it wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Her hips were wider. Her thighs thicker, although in the past couple of years she’d picked up weighlifting and she looked “thicc” more than anything. And yes, some of the weight had gone to her breasts, and she was now an F cup, up from DD back in high school.

Her husband called her “milf-ey.” She just thought of herself as insecure.

The doors opened and she hesitated to take a step in. This rooftop bar was…not her kind of place. Too cool. Too fancy. But some of her old classmates had done well for themselves and had chosen somewhere “cool” for the reunion.

Diana was a homebody. Shy, sweet, nerdy, insecure. She felt self-conscious in her tight dress, in a place like this. But she was also excited. To see her friends. To be out, late. To see…him.

***
The awkwardness lasted only a few minutes. Diana made her way to the bar and ordered an Aperol Spritz—her friend Jackie had introduced her to them and she always felt so sophisticated when ordering one. She hadn’t taken more than a few awkward sips before her high school besties pounced on her and the room was flooded with high-pitched whoops and cheers and screams. Diana could barely finish her drink with all the jostling about–her friends grabbing her hands, jumping in place, excited to see her.

“catch me up. oh my god. you look great. who’s your husband. where do you live. tell me everything” questions and questions and questions and cheering and screaming and god it’s like they were 15 all over again.

And then she saw him. On the other side of the room. Looking at the little posse of screaming ~~teenagers~~ women in their early 30s. No. Looking at _her_.

The sheepish, charming smile. The crisp white shirt. The full head of hair. God he was handsome. Smiling. Her heart did a little sommersault.

Her friend Cynthia asked her a question and pulled her attention away.

***

They ran into each other in the hallway by the bathrooms half an hour later. Diana, still sober. Steven, who knows.

“Dee!” he said, enthusiastically.

“Hey S” she answered. She was already blushing.

“It’s so nice to to see you” he said. He sounded… genuine. God, she never had gotten over him had she.

“You too” she said. her heart was in her throat.

“You look great”

“uh, you too”. She meant it. He looked great. The guy she’d dated in high school was a handsome kid but this..this was a man.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries and then somehow ended up hugging. She felt his hands wrap around her waist as he hugged her inappropriately close. Fuck, the smell of his cologne. God, his fingers. She was melting.

“I have to go see some friends” he said, breaking away from the hug. “It’s so very nice to see you Dee.”

Then he walked away.

Diana felt unmoored.

***
For whatever reason—or reasons—Diana proceeded to get drunk. Maybe it was the happiness of being with her friends, and the fact that they were all pushing shots on each other. Maybe it was that, despite how welcome she was at this event, she never ceased to feel insecure. Perhaps it was her encounter with Steve.

But now she was, undoubtedly, sloppy. Not _wasted_, but sloppy.

And for some reason, she was walking around. Prowling. Looking for…something. Or someone. She stepped out onto the terrace. She looked around. And there he was, right on the corner. Hiding from the world.

Despite his charisma and popularity, Steve had always been kind of a loner. He’d retreat. It’s one of the things about him that enchanted her.

He was leaning on the railing, looking out at the city below.

“Hey shtranger” she said, nestling next to him. She pretended to be less drunk than she was.

“Hey Diana” he said, smiling down at her petite body next to him.

“You look good” she mumbled. It’s the only thing she could think of saying.

“Thanks” he said, quietly. Distant, looking at the horizon. Then he brought his gaze back to her. “You look fantastic.”

“Really?” she said, fishing for compliments. “I felt overdressed.”

Steve smiled and then he started…to look at her. Not _gaze_ at her. It was so much more intense. He was devouring her. Obviously. Up and down. Her eyes, her face, her lips, her neck, her tits, compressed in the tight dressed yet obviously enormous. Her waist. Her hips. Her legs. He looked her up and down slowly, because he wanted to, because he could. Diana felt examined. Undressed.

“You look incredible, dee”

“I’ve thought about you” she said.

“I know,” he answered.

It wasn’t a cocky answer. He actually _did_ know. Even though they seldom exchanged messages nowadays, there had been a time—years ago—when they talked more frequently. About each other. About what they had gotten up to. About what might have been. About what could happen.

“Dee” he said, his voice catching in the back of his throat. “I want to touch you.”

Diana gulped. She felt…heady. Afraid. Expectant. She was holding her breath. The “right” thing to do here was obvious. She should laugh and leave Go back to her friends. Fuck it, go back home. But…she was also justifying this to herself. Sure, it felt wrong to be here. It felt bad to give this man so much attention, to let him know how much she truly wanted him. But… she hadn’t _acted_ on anything. And she wouldn’t. She knew she wouldn’t, obviously.

“Ok” she answered. It wasn’t anything. Just a touch. Just. A. Touch.

Steven glanced around quickly to make sure nobody was watching them, and then he held Diana’s hand and pulled her to the corner of the terrace. A pair of planters created a little nook, virtually hidden from the rest of the outdoor area. The pair of adults—she drunk, him…who knows—were also hidden.

“I’m going to touch you, ok?” Steven asked again. He didn’t have to, but he did. And now she had to answer. Again she could say no. And now she almost did. The fact that Steven had moved them somewhere secret, made her feel even more guilty about their interaction and the feelings she had for him. It was an acknowledgment that _this was not to be seen. this was not ok._

“…ok” she answered. She didn’t even know exactly what he meant. “touch her?” but she wanted to be touched. More than that, she wanted to give Steven whatever he wanted.

Steven walked them to the edge of the terrace, and Diana placed her hands on the railing. He placed himself behind her and he wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her from behind.

_oh god_

And then, his hands started to roam. He started sliding them up the sides of her dress, down her hips, over the middle, over her waist, down to where the hem stretched around her thighs. He moved his hands all over her dress, her legs, her body. He was, in no uncertain terms, _feeling her up_.

_oh goddd_ she thought. She closed her eyes and held the railing and let this man, her high school crush, her old flame, _pawing_ at her.

Then his hands came up to the top of her off-the-shoulder dress. His fingers curled under the elastic and he just…lowered it, bringing her strapless bra down with the neckline, her tits spilling out of her dress, onto the cold air. And he moved his hands to her tits. Too much for his hands, he grabbed onto them from behind, her nipples between his fingers. He squeezed, and he pulled, and he groped, and he tugged at her nipples with his fingers, pinching them, rolling them between his middle finger and ring finger, just _massaging_ her tits, groping them, manhandling them, using them.

Diana groaned. Her eyes rolled toward the top of her head and she involuntarily arched her back, pushing her ass onto Steve’s crotch. The fabric of the dress was tight around her ass, and she coould feel how hard his cock was, and she wanted it.

If you would have looked at that little corner of the terrace at that very moment, that’s the sight you would have seen: a woman, 5’3”, thicc, insanely busty, holding onto the railing. A man behind her, his arms around her sides. Her dress pulled down, her tits exposed. And him, groping her from behind. Everywhere. kneading her. Her back arched. Drunkenly pushing into him.

God, she hadn’d been manhandled like this…maybe ever, and she liked it. She _liked_ it. She would have let him do anything to her. She wanted it. She wanted to feel his dick slide between her thighs, up her ass, into her soaked and hot pussy. She wanted him to take her. She wanted his dick in her pussy, his dick in her mouth, his dick in her hands. She wanted his cum dripping between her legs, dripping down the corners of her mouth, dripping down her palm. God, she wanted Steve so fucking much. And here he was, just pawing at her, groping her, using her body for his hands’s pleasure, his prick just poking her from behind. Exposed. Drunk. At her high school reunion. Hidden from the rest of the crowd, yes, but just barely.

She felt like a wanton slut and she was addicted.

He licked her shoulder. His tongue slid up the side of her neck, to her ear. He bit her earlobe, rolled it between his teeth…

…and covered her tits back up with her dress.

…and let his hands off her body.

“I should go,” he whispered in her ear, and walked away.

***

Diana was shaking as she walked back indoors to the rooftop lounge. He knees were shaking. Her thighs were cold, damp because she’d dripped on them.

She had never felt so frustrated in her life. But she also felt…used. I mean, she _had_ been used. This man had just groped her in a way she’d never been grabbed before. And she would have let him do anything. And then she’d _left_. And she had loved it and she wanted more but she was drunk and confused and she was even feeling a bit ashamed, how could she let him do that, how could she let a man just _grope_ her like that. How could she _like_ it. It was embarassing.

Her knees were knocking together as she walked to the elevator. She had to get out of here. She felt like everyone at the party could see straight through her, that everyone could just _tell_ what she’d let her old crush do to her. That everyone could see how she felt.

She crawled into the back of an uber and closed her eyes.

***
Epilogue:

“I’m going to take a bath, honey” she told her husband.

“You’ve been taking lots of them lately!” he said cheerfully. Dinner will be ready in a half an hour! He was such a good cook, such a happy guy.

“I’ll be out!” she said and closed the door.

Diana lowered herself into the hot water and closed her eyes. She raised her hips up above the water, and her fingers moved to her clit. She started to caress it. She though of that night, 4 months ago, at the reunion. How He had touched her. How She had felt. Her hips buckled and she let out a moan.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/up2nsf/used_at_the_15_year_reunion_mf