[FM] I bumped into my high school sweetheart a few years later. Lord, he still had it.

*[If you want to know a bit more about me, [here’s a post for that.](https://www.reddit.com/user/SaysLuna/comments/w9j02v/who_is_luna/) If not, you can skip ahead!]*

This is a story about James [made up name]. James was my first boyfriend, and we dated all the way through our teenage years, before eventually breaking up during the last year of high school. We were each other’s firsts at pretty much everything. First boyfriend, first kiss, first time having sex, you name it. The two of us were deeply into each other, hormonal (as teens are), and super exploratory. Despite not attending the same school, we lived close to each other, and we just couldn’t keep our hands off each other (and we managed to couple that up nicely with a more regular dating life). Say, if we ever knew either of our houses was going to be “adult-free” on a given day, the likelihood of us humping like rabbits at said house was high. And when no place was available, we found a way, as teens usually do.

Three and a half years of dating filled with hormone-driven lust led to a profound understanding of each other’s bodies. Most likely we weren’t the best at having sex, but we definitely were the best at having sex with each other.

All things come to an end, and we eventually broke up. I moved away for college, and our contact steadily diminished throughout my first semester away, fading to nothing but the occasional happy birthday text.

The actual story takes place in December of 2015 (so in my third year of college). After the semester ended, I drove back to Porto (our city) to spend a few weeks with family and friends. By virtue of chance, or fate, James and I bumped into each other on a night out after not seeing each other since I first left. *Yeah, our disappearance from each other’s life was a bit abrupt and weird, but that’s not important right now*. The reconnection that night felt surprisingly easy and natural, as if we hadn’t missed a beat (not in a romantic way, mind you). We were with different groups, so we cut our conversation short, but agreed to meet for dinner during the following week.

*I know what you’re thinking. We set up a dinner and ended up with a story for lewd readers. But I promise you this was not a date, and it was NOT meant to result in anything but a wholesome evening reminiscing old times and catching up with a dear friend.*

And so, a few days later we were walking inside a restaurant we used to eat at. No make-up, no fancy clothes. As I said, not a date. We had a lovely dinner, and barely shut up at all the whole time we were there. There was just so much to talk about, so much to remember and laugh about. We gossiped, shared stories of our separate lives and recalled ones from our time together. Through the whole dinner I had the growing feeling of being surprisingly and yet so naturally at ease around him. There was a sweet mix of nostalgia, friendship and chemistry enveloping us. We both acknowledged how different we both were from back then, but also how similar we remained.

Dinner ended but our desire to spend time with each other did not, so he proposed driving somewhere and hanging out in his car, and I offered some beers if we made a detour to drive by my place.

Half an hour later we were sitting at the beach, with a large towel under us, a blanket over us, and a few beers to the side.

*Not a date, mind you. We just really enjoyed the beach at night. I’m serious.*

The conversation kept pouring from our mouths. We just wouldn’t stop. Near midnight came the inflection point that turned the trajectory of the night from two lost friends catching up to two ex-lovers “catching up”.

“You remember that girl, Tara, that you warned me about back when we were dating?”

“The blonde one? Who I said was into you?” I’m not the jealous type at all. I wasn’t the jealous type that night at the beach either. But 16 year old Luna (me, for those distracted) had been, so I 100% recalled Tara.

“That one” he smiled, acknowledging without words how slightly unhealthy I had been with my jealousy back then.

“What about her?” I didn’t take offense, so I smiled back. Jealous Luna was in the past.

“She *was* into me. You were right. I never admitted it to you because I didn’t want to deal with your reaction while we were together, and I didn’t want to give you that victory, even after we broke up. Now it just sounds stupid.”

I laughed, but still quirked my eyebrow, and dutifully played my role. “I told you. Now you see I wasn’t crazy”

“Well you were in your own way, just not about this topic” he joked, but before I could quip back, he added “She was real crazy, though” His tone said it all.

“Ohh, so you were together?” I may have sounded a bit more interested than I should, but I admit I love a bit of gossip.

“Yes, but only for a couple of months, the year after you and I broke up. It wasn’t anything serious until it started getting too serious for me. She barely let me breathe.”

“Metaphorically or literally?” I used my best playfully venomous tone.

He shoved me with one arm and we both laughed. “Both. She was really, *really* into me.”

“Are you complaining?” Let me be honest. Tara is a smokeshow. That was part of the reason teenage me was insecure about her.

“Not at all, not at all!”

I couldn’t help it. “Was she good?” *Perhaps this was the inflection point. Maybe it was the beers. Maybe it was the unwavering familiarity. I swear that if you asked me back then if I wanted to spin things towards us, I would say no and I wouldn’t be lying. In hindsight, I guess I knew it could happen and once again dutifully played my role in moving the plot forward without acknowledging it.*

“She was” he didn’t seem fazed by the question, but didn’t put a lot of enthusiasm behind the words “But I kept comparing her to you and well, we had dated for years, I knew your body as well as mine, and obviously what worked for you was not the same as what did for her. I guess I didn’t expect that, as naïve as it sounds. It was not just plug and play”

His words made me blush, but thankfully it was night. “I know what you mean.”

“Same happened to you?”

“Oh, it did”. Truthfully, my first partner after James was an utter disappointment. Not for lack of effort or talent, I have nothing bad to say about the poor guy. It was just that James knew every. single. one. of my buttons, and for some reason I expected a continuity in sex in between different partners, so my expectations were the problem. James knew my body probably better than I did during our relationship, and so I didn’t know what to ask for, what to communicate, I just expected the other person to know like James did. Teenagers can be dumb. “You ruined a couple of guys for me” I laughed, trying to shake the unnervingly familiar sensation setting on the back of my mind.

“Same! I felt completely clueless when Tara didn’t turn to a mess once I bit her thighs” *I have very sensitive thighs.*

“Wow, I was not that bad!” I was. I am.

He just shrugged my complaints off “It just did nothing to her. I was used to feeling like a… sorcerer with your body. Like a god. I could make it do anything.”

That sensation setting on the back of my mind? Yeah, it was making its way down my spine by now. Getting dangerously close to my lady bits.

“We were really good, weren’t we?” the phrase felt like it was taken from a rom com, though it usually refers to love rather than sex. It rang true with me though, so I said it despite the cliché.

“We were.”

Silence.

Silence.

“We shouldn’t have talked about that.” he said. There was humor in his voice, perhaps a bit of a question, but mostly uncertainty.

“Yeah.” I stupidly kept my eyes locked in the waves ahead of us.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s ok” Really, it was. “I was the one who asked about her in the first place.”

“Are we ok then? Or strange?”

“Both.” I laughed. For some reason, the image of James biting my thighs wasn’t fading away from my mind.

“I have thought about it, hypothetically. Wondered if the familiarity would still be there, if the buttons were still the same.” He was speaking my thoughts so plainly that I wondered if I was the one talking.

Even though we were a dozen of meters away from the waves, they seemed to be wetting my panties. *Weird how beaches work at night.*

“Would you want to try?” I turned to look at him. I felt as nervous as a teenager. “Hypothetically.”

“Fuck.” He cursed.

Thas was a good enough answer for me. My body lunged at his before my mind could come up with any reason not to (not that there were any). We kissed. God, we kissed like the hormonal teenagers we had been. We were older, our bodies and brains slightly different, but that didn’t change. I had to wrestle my mouth off his so we could decide where to go next.

“My house is free tonight.” He smiled, and we shared the throwback. Fucking on the vacant house, just like old times.

Things moved in a blur from that moment up until I landed on his bed, naked. Then he crawled up to me, naked.

“Are you ready? I really want to take my time.”

His words made me breathless. “Yes. Please do.”

James really could make my body sing to his tune. Sometimes familiarity dulls sensations. But familiarity mixed with nostalgia is a mix that remains unmatched. There were memories bubbling under my skin, and every touch made them erupt. Not visual memories, but sensorial ones. My body recalled his so well that it knew perfectly what it could do, and yet we had been so long apart that everything felt impossibly new.

He did take his time. I’ll preface that he did every single movement as gently as possible, so I’ll spare the adverbs.

James spun me around, so I laid face down on the bed. He pulled my hair up and placed my hands behind my ass. I felt his dick being pressed onto my palm, and I knew what to do. I closed my grip and let him slowly move his hips back and forth. It worked for him, but he knew well that it worked much more for me. I was, and am, impatient. Having my hands used without being able to move them does nasty things to my brain. But that was only the beginning.

I felt his breath on my neck and my skin crawled. I could barely inhale as he planted the softest kisses on my neck. On the sides, then on the back. Pecks became smooches, which became licks, which became bites. All of them cruelly slow. All the while he kept stroking himself with my hand, occasionally groaning right into my soul.

When he had done all the damage he could around my neck (to be fair, I was ready to be pounded into pudding right then), his kisses started trailing down my body. No inch of skin from my shoulders down to my hips went unkissed. The dreadful removal of his dick from my hand was soon forgotten as they too were kissed at a snail’s pace. He even gently sucked on my fingers for good measure. I can’t describe how on edge I felt, and yet I knew I was not even halfway through his work. He descended until he was facing my ass.

He kissed my asscheeks as if they were a piece of art. His lips felt as weightless as a butterfly, yet the way he was grabbing my thighs betrayed his own struggle to pace himself. I remained quiet aside from my frequent sighs of pleasure and frustration in equal measure.

I knew what was going to happen and still wasn’t ready for it. He spread my cheeks and dragged the flat of his tongue up my crack, brushing it past my asshole. As slow as he was, the contact just wasn’t enough. And so he repeated it. And again. And again. And again. Like he knew I loved, like he knew I desperately hated for how close it brought me to orgasm without being able to actually push me past the threshold.

I can’t say how long he lapped on my ass. His longue licks eventually shifted to prods with his tongue, to circling around the edge, to doing everything he knew would work. When he ended there was a puddle in between my legs. How much of it was his and mine, I couldn’t know. I also knew that he only had to press his lips a couple of times against my clit to make me explode. But he knew it as well, and so he didn’t.

Instead, he spun me so I was facing back up, and I saw the lover I knew so well, even in the dim light.

“Your breasts look bigger” he took a while to admire them. His eyes were eating me up.

“You just think that because you missed them”

“Yeah” he chuckled “But the piercings look good on you. You’re hotter than you were.”

Could this guy make me crave him even more?

“You too. You look like a man now” he had filled up quite nicely indeed.

The smile he gave me showed me the man and the teenager I knew all in one place. And then I lost control again.

He dove back down to kiss me, but while I was urging him to kiss deeper, harder, hungrier like we did at the beach, he kept it disciplined, pinning me down and kissing me with an infuriating tranquility despite his intensity.

His mouth descended to my neck once again, resuming the assault but on the front this time around. He tucked his dick in between my thighs, pressing it alongside my vulva and I could feel my clit pulsing with my heartbeat. As he moved his hips to grind against me, his mouth bit me in ways that numbed any coherent thought I might have had. If he didn’t pin my hands with his I bet he’d have scratch marks on his back to this day.

He descended through me, tasting my collarbones, my breasts, my stomach, my sides. I only forgave him for stopping the grind against my clitoris when he finally positioned his face in front of my crotch. I looked down at him, and we both knew what was coming.

The following minutes were probably one of the most mind-shattering sexual experiences I recall having. James let go any semblance of restraint and threw himself at my thighs. He kissed them. He bit them. Hard. He licked them. He ravaged my flesh and I was flying to the moon on the bumpiest ride ever.

I lost it when, in between bites on my thighs, he started actually paying attention to my pussy. In between bites, he moved his head just enough to give one lick up my clit, before ignoring it completely again to favor my thighs, or worse, my asshole. I was a wet mess, and he worsened it, spreading my juices over thighs, asshole, pussy, and all over his face. The only discipline he remained was that he only licked my clit once at a time, before moving somewhere else.

Obviously it was working. I was *desperate*. I was so desperate I was close to crying – not of pain but ecstasy. I begged, and whimpered, and moaned. I was breathless yet I could still curse him each time he didn’t indulge me.

But it worked. I felt it build up, frustratingly slow. I was overstimulated, unable to even process everything he was doing but I felt it coming. He knew it too, and when he finally decided enough was enough, I almost blacked out.

James planted his face on my crotch and licked my clit like his life depended on it. I didn’t need much. In a couple of seconds, I had passed the point of no return. He kept devouring me as my thighs gripped its head like a vice (*I’m surprise his eyes didn’t pop out. I was seriously squeezing him*). Finally, I came. I exploded in pleasure.

I’m not a screamer. At all. But god damn did I scream when it hit me.

He kept working my clit, forcing the climax to drag out. It was possibly one of the longest orgasms I have experienced, with aftershocks almost as strong as the first wave. I truly don’t know how to describe it properly, even to this day.

When he finished, I was completely done. My legs fell to the sides, limp, and he crawled back up to me, with his face glistening with his juices.

“I’ve still got it”

I was too breathless. “You do” I smiled. The world had stopped spinning.

“Do you want a break?”

I nodded. I felt spent without having done anything. And yet the hint that he was not done with me made my senses wake back up just a little bit.

“Alright” he laid next to me and pulled me into a cuddle. Just another familiar memory playing out. I felt sated. Cozy, safe, and sated. “Let me know when you’re ready for round two. Or you can sleep if you want to.”

He made me cum two more times before I was even able to return the favor. We didn’t have sex that night because we had no condoms (remember, this wasn’t supposed to be a date!) but I certainly paid him back with my mouth.

The following week was fun. Christmas dawn was fun. Let’s leave it at that.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/y6g3qe/fm_i_bumped_into_my_high_school_sweetheart_a_few