I heard from a little bird that you found my profile recently. That you’ve been reading my stories. How close am I to your memories? How do you like the name I gave you? I bet you think I’m amused with myself calling you by her name. Your right.
I know why we never talk. The last two times. God. I had scars for over a year after the last time. But I thought maybe I’d try to think of some of our happier times. I wanted you to know that I don’t just remember the hate and cruelty.
Do you remember that night at the bar when it was snowing. We had seen one of the lord of the rings movies and you had worn that tiny green dress with the leaves even though it was freezing. God you looked so hot and I kept teasing you, every time I reached my hand up your skirt at how cold your pussy was.
But then we were in the bar drinking and dancing. I can still remember the feel of your body pushing against mine as we danced. Your breasts felt like they would pop out of that dress at any moment.
Do you look back on us at that age and smirk the way I do. Do you remember how we danced like horny teens. Grinding into each other. Your bare pussy pushing so hard against my pant leg that it left a wet spot.
I remember your skirt riding up as we danced. My hands on your bare ass. Too drunk to notice or care if anyone watched us. Grinding and making out. Moving to the music (poorly).
Then we were in the hallway and you had started to unzip me before we even made it to the bathroom. We didn’t even lock the door behind us. I was pulling your dress down off your breasts and my mouth was on those lovely things. My mouth sucking at your nipples as you stroked my cock and hiked your dress up to your waist until it looked like a belt.
Then I was spinning you, your palms against the wall, arching your ass up as I began to fuck you. Moaning and screaming and not caring who heard. Who walked in. Who saw.
It was not our best fuck. It was raw and happy and drunk. I came and you dropped to your knees to clean me off, tits hanging out, hand between your own legs.
Were you asking for permission to cum yet? I don’t recall. I do remember you though, squatting back against the wall, masturbating furiously and yelling fuck as you came.
There were stares as well left. But we didn’t care. We danced and drank and danced and drank and fucked when we got back to your place.
We were happy then.
[Other dirty words by readeranon](https://www.reddit.com/r/ReaderAnonErotica/comments/5apun6/story_index_stories_organized_in_this_post/)
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5bo9qw/that_night_at_the_bar_a_letter_to_an_old_lover