She had been my first. I’d had another girlfriend from the majority of high school, but we’d never pulled the trigger. Then, right at the tail end of high school, I ran back into her. We’d known each other when we were little kids. Now here she was, both of us 18, and even though she had a boyfriend at the time, it was obvious. I knew she’d leave him, and she did. We made love within weeks. It was amazing beyond words. I’ll write more about it another time. Today, I just wanted to share a small thought.
We went our separate ways around college time. From time to time though, we’d pop back into each other’s lives. Here and there, we’d meet, sometimes we’d talk, but most of the times, it became physical nearly immediately. What made it quite unique was the amount she would squirt. It was a sheets and duvet and the lining needs to get changed kind of situation. She told me he made her do it so much worse than her fist boyfriend, and as the years passed she shared it each time.
Then ten years past. Thirteen years. A lifetime of growth and change. She got married and had kids. I moved away and went through a crazy life all my own. Then one day I got a message. The husband was gone, I found out just from the message but it was confirmed soon enough. Next time I was in town,I came to her new home. The kids were with her mother’s.
Sure, we all talked. For about fiteen minutes. But before long I was on my knees and her back was pressed to the wall near the door. The shades were up and it was dark, anyone in sleepy suburbia could’ve seen. We didn’t care. Not at all. To stop would’ve meant…stopping.
And that was impossible.
And then, after only moments, she began gushing down my throat and into my bearded face. It ran in rivulets down her thighs and my chest simultaneously.
She hadn’t forgotten me.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/128mxr2/mf_nearly_2_decades_apart_didnt_matter_at_all