A year ago, a woman approached me at the gym. “Love your shirt,” she said. I thanked her, introduced myself, and then went back to my workout. But every time I saw Melissa, I’d wave. Finally, I struck up a conversation. We chatted for a while, made plans to get coffee, went out on said coffee said, and hit it off. Soon, we were holding hands, kissing, flirting over text message.
And then, abruptly, it stopped. She apologized and said she was going back to her ex to give it one more chance. It felt like a punch to the gut. Just as I was starting to have feelings for her. Just as I was started to wonder what her lips felt like on my cock, what her pussy felt like, tasted it. How she squirmed or moaned when she orgasmed. I thought about it all.
I told her it was fine. I understood. But there was this incredible sexual tension that remained. We’d still kind of flirt with one another. And then, things with her ex took a turn for the worse. They were fighting again and decided to take some time. A month off, exactly. And during that time, all bets were off. And so, Melissa texted me. We got dinner, caught up, took a little walk and then made our way back to her car, which happened to be parked near my house.