Chance Reunion

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The chill October breeze sent a shiver through my body as I closed the front door of my parents’ house who I had been visiting that evening. As I locked the mortice, I heard a sound to my left. I looked round and, in the frame of light created by the open front door of the neighbouring house, I saw, over the dividing fence, my ‘childhood sweetheart’ struggling to manoeuvre a large fridge/freezer over the precipice of the doorstep.

I last saw her at the funeral of her father a month previously. We exchanged a few niceties, but not much more as there were a lot of other guests for her to look after while her husband circulated with trays of sandwiches and petit fours. However, she did plant a hot, and longer-than-necessary kiss on my lips before I departed, awakening memories that had been dormant since we were children.

“Hang on Janey,” I called, “I’ll come round and help you with that.”

“Oh, hi Don,” she replied, “Thanks, I’d appreciate the help.”

Together we managed to ‘walk’ the object over the step. “Where do you want it put?” I asked.

“On the kerbside for collection in the morning by a special uplift.”

“OK then, isn’t your hubby here giving you a hand?”

“He’s away on business, won’t be back until tomorrow evening.”

It wasn’t too difficult moving the fridge/freezer the rest of the way to the kerb.

“Thanks for the help, will you come in for a glass of wine?” Janey asked.

“Well, I have to be getting back to my wife, but I can spare the time for only one glass, bearing in mind that I’m driving,” I replied. “Besides we didn’t have much time at the funeral for more than a few words and we can catch up on each others’ lives since childhood.”

We went inside Janey’s late father’s house and through to the kitchen where I observed a glass of white wine partially consumed. Janey poured a fresh glass for me and topped up her own glass, which she picked up and then led me through to the lounge.

The room was in darkness, so Janey switched on a table lamp which exuded a soft, intimate, light. She sat on the adjacent sofa and beckoned me to sit next to her. Angling herself towards me, Janey commenced the conversation, “So you are married, why isn’t your wife with you when you were at your parents tonight?”

“Good question,” I replied, “I’m afraid that my mother and my wife don’t get on with each other, so I keep them apart and do my parental visits on my own.”

And from there it progressed, with probably each of us, certainly me, omitting the downsides to our lives, until we got to the current date. But I did learn that Janey was readying her late parents’ ground floor flat for letting. Her mother had died when she was still a child, and it was that event that had separated us during childhood. Her father, had sent her to a boarding school as he wasn’t able to maintain his job and care for Janey at the same time. She had just had the kitchen re-furbished, and while the contractors had disposed of the old appliances when installing the new, fitted, appliances, they would not dispose of the fridge/freezer because of the environmentally unfriendly refrigerant (CFC type substance). Hence the fortunate cause of our re-union.

Janey refilled her glass with wine, but I had been sipping slowly because I had to drive later, so refused a top up. Nevertheless, I was feeling the effect of the wine — but, on reflection, it was probably the combined effect of having a prolonged accompaniment with my first love plus that of the wine, for a single glass does not normally affect me.

Janey returned to the sofa, and my eyes followed her from the moment she re-entered the room. Her figure was slim, and her jean clad hips swayed, perhaps exaggeratedly, or maybe it was my perception, and, her small breasts, which I estimated at 34B (anything below 36 I regard as small, but then I prefer small), thrust out against her black sleeveless top. Very nice for someone 25 years older. She sat on the sofa facing me and hooked her right leg on the seat and crossed her left leg over her right ankle, which left her crotch open. Of course it was covered by her jeans, but that did not prevent my eyes from gazing at the view, which was stirring a reaction in my loins that necessitated me to hitch my left ankle onto my right knee in order to hide any visual indication of my predicament.

We continued our conversation which then regressed back to our childhood, and the memories that were briefly awakened at Janey’s father’s funeral began to resurface. That did not help the predicament that I was experiencing in my loins, so I rapidly emptied my wine glass and announced my departure.

“Before you go,” Janey, almost pleadingly, said, “Come upstairs and see where we used to play as children. It may be the last time you see the place before it is emptied of all its junk.”

My memories of that place had now fully revived, and I hoped that Janey’s memories were not as vivid as mine. So I replied hesitantly, “Alright then.”

I know I indicated aksaray escort that the property was a flat, but it is a lower villa flat. The original building was a villa with servant’s quarters, and was divided into two flats. The servant’s quarters were attached to the main villa on the upper level above the kitchen, but are only accessible by a flight of stairs from the kitchen. The upper level living quarters terminated at the kitchen boundary.

Janey preceded me up the steep stairway, carrying her glass of wine, and turned on the lights of a short landing, off of which were two reasonably sized bedrooms and a very compact bathroom, the tub barely large enough for one to sit in, a toilet bowl, and a miniscule wash-hand basin in the corner opposite the toilet and behind the door. She went into the largest of the two bedrooms, the one in which we played, and turned on the lights. It was much as I remembered it as a child. An iron bedstead in the far corner, still with its horse-hair mattress. The cupboard was still stacked full and the same packed boxes seemed to line the back wall.

The memories of what we did up here came flooding back to me, and just as I was hoping that Janey wasn’t going to bring hers out into the open, she took a sip of her wine and said, “Remember what we used to do up here?”

‘Of course I remember but I was hoping you’d forget’ I thought to myself as I wished I had a glass of wine in my hand so I could take a gulp while I thought up a suitable answer. All I could do was, stifling a stammer, reply, “Yes, I remember quite clearly.”

“Oh good,” Janey said, moving against me so that our bodies were in contact.

My heart was now pounding, most likely in fear but more probably in anticipation. The earlier stirring in my loins was now most uncomfortable pressing against my jeans, and I slowly edged my blind-side hand into my pocket to turn it upwards.

Janey placed an arm about my waist and then faced me while placing her other arm about my waist to link them up. ‘For God’s sake don’t pull me towards you,’ my mind screamed, fully conscious of the erection that was forming down below. Thankfully she leaned backwards, and suggested, “Let’s do it again for old time’s sake.”

Just what I was dreading, or was I? I know what we did up here and I knew then that I would love to have relived it, but was Janey thinking the same thing that I was thinking?

“What exactly do you mean?” I enquired.

“We did ‘you show me yours and I’ll show you mine’, so let’s do it again. As I recall, we both ended up naked.”

“Are you sure it’s not the wine talking?” I asked her. I knew Janey had had some wine before I appeared that night, but not that much judging by the quantity left in the bottle when she poured my glass. I estimated Janey had two glasses in total all evening, and that is not enough to cause anybody to lose inhibitions. I had a feeling that there was something else contributing to her demeanour.

“Not entirely.” She responded, “I’ll tell you after what else.” and she detached herself from me.

Janey then unbuttoned her jeans and after unzipping the fly, lowered them and stepped out of them, removing her socks at the same time. She gripped the hem of her top and pulled it up and over her head, tossing it aside.

Standing only in her bra and panties, she said, “Now you.”

Seeing her beautifully firm, all but naked, body had completed my erection into a now raging hard-on. I wanted to see Janey naked again, as I had seen her on that first occasion 25 years ago, and it was obvious that, not only did Janey want me to see her naked, she wanted to see me naked also.

My dick now having taken over control, and my mind oblivious to anything else, I unbuckled my belt and unzipped. Prising off my shoes (why waste time untying laces) I quickly removed my jeans and socks. Then I removed my top (my jacket was already off and downstairs), leaving me wearing only my briefs.

“You don’t appear to have changed much,” Janey said as she looked at my pants.

I followed her gaze and saw that due my rampant erection, the tip of my dick was poking above the band of my briefs. So I provoked her, “Well, are you going to go all the way?”

Janey answered by unhooking her bra and shrugging it off her shoulders and as she reached down to lower her panties, I lowered mine. Standing naked before each other, I feasted my eyes by admiring her perfectly formed breasts (the last time I saw them before she went to boarding school, they were only beginning to form, with her nipples becoming puffy). There was no sag at all, and her nipples stood out proud from light brown aereolae. I lowered my eyes, taking in the firm stomach, and then the wholly natural bush, matching her auburn head hair exactly. Janey was magnificent, her legs had shaped up nicely and the sight of her naked body was a pleasure to behold. She had certainly kept her body in trim, as I had mine with my love of ski-ing and the associated out-season alsancak escort exercises.

Janey had obviously been eyeing me in the same way in the silent interlude for she broke the silence by saying, “You haven’t changed one bit, that monster of yours is as hard as, if not harder than, the first time we were naked together. Do you remember?”

“Oh yes, I remember, but 25 years ago I was able to see your slit which is what sent my dick to its hardness then. Now there is a mass of pubic hair hiding your slit so the tribute my dick is paying is entirely due to the beauty of your breasts, and the anticipation of what lies hidden beneath that lovely forest.”

“Well, I was only 9 years old at the time and my hair hadn’t grown down there,” Janey said, and paused for a moment to look down and as if she had come to a momentous decision, she said, “Follow me,” and went downstairs.

I followed her to the bathroom where she took out her dad’s shaving kit from the cabinet. “We can sort this out here and now,” Janey said, “You’re a man and you shave, so shave my pussy.”

I was dumbfounded, “I don’t know how to shave a pussy. Christ, I often cut myself shaving, I don’t want to cut your pussy. Besides, how are you going to explain a bald pussy to hubby?”

“That’s the easy part. Tomorrow night when hubby gets home, I say to him that I have a surprise for him, and then I strip all my clothes off. He’ll see my bare pussy and jump me there and then. First let’s do the difficult part, get rid of this hair.”

“Be warned then that your pussy is likely to sting at the end of this. Even I sting after shaving, that’s why men use after-shave — it closes the pores, and after its initial stinging, it numbs the shaved area for a while. I wouldn’t recommend after-shave on your pussy, the flesh there is so tender, and if some should get into your slit, well….. I’ve no idea what that would do. Anyway, to shave your pussy hair as it is would more than likely rip it out for it is too long for a razor. We should cut it first.”

Janey went back to the cabinet and produced a pair of hair scissors, “Let’s get started.”

So we eventually managed to shave her pussy absolutely bare, even around her lips, and there was not one nick. That gave me the first close up of her pussy in over 20 years. Janey’s perfume was as intoxicating as ever, remembering our first crude efforts of gathering her scent when she first ran her finger between her pussy lips and presented it to my nose, and she then allowed me to do the same. Her pussy now was wetter and slicker, and had nothing at all to do with the wine.

After the operation, Janey said, “You were right, it does sting, but I must see how it looks.”

She stood before the full-length mirror and admired our handiwork. “It’s beautiful. It’s turning me on all the more just looking at it.”

Then she looked at my reflection in the mirror, “It seems to have turned you on more too, your cock looks a lot larger than earlier.”

I looked down, it did appear more swollen, and it definitely felt more swollen. “You could be right,” I responded, “But let’s calm your stinging. Do you have any cold cream in the house?”

Janey again went to the cabinet and produced a jar of cold cream. I said she should rub that into the shaved area, which she did in front of me, giving me magnificent views of her beautiful pussy. “That feels nice, it’s soothing my pussy already. Let’s go back to the lounge for a while.

We adjourned to the lounge and Janey bade me turn on the coal-effect gas fire while she turned off the lights. I noticed the clock on the mantelpiece, it read 9:40, plenty time. She came over and knelt before the fire, the light from the flames flickering over her naked body, accentuating her breasts with their proud nipples and the roundness of her buttocks as they sat on her heels. She pulled me down next to her, held me tight and placed her parted lips on mine and we entered into a passionate kiss. Her tongue invaded my mouth, seeking my tongue, which responded eagerly. As we kissed, Janey leaned sideways and pulled me with her, straightening her legs as we went over. I straightened mine also, and Janey pressed her body tightly against mine. I felt her warm breasts against my chest, the hard nipples denting my flesh, and my engorged dick was tight against her mons.

Janey broke off the kiss, saying, “We haven’t done that before, or rather, we haven’t kissed like that before. It was just I imagined it would be. I used to dream of doing that while I was at boarding school once I had reached puberty. I imagined that my pussy would be pouring juices, and it is. Look!”

Janey moved apart from me so I could look at her pussy, and, sure enough, her upper thigh was glistening with pussy juice, the trail of which started at her slit and had run over her thigh onto the fireside rug beneath us, where there was a quantity of white cream.

As Janey moved back into position, she whispered, “And now I want amasya escort to do something else we haven’t done before.”

My heart jumped. I felt her breasts press against my chest once more, but I felt her hand take hold of my dick and pull it towards her and down. After a bit of wriggling, Janey seemed to be comfortable and she moved her pelvis closer to me. As she did so, she manoeuvred my dick until I felt its tip slide against something hot and wet. She continued to move closer to me and at the same time she gently pushed my dick towards me. The warmth against the tip of my dick was spreading — Janey was inserting my dick into her cunt. The whole bell end was now inside and it felt like it was entering a volcano that was full of molten lava. It was exquisite. With another movement, Janey brought her pelvis hard against mine, and my dick slid in further, the hot, wet, walls of her vagina engulfing it. The most marvellous feeling ever.

“I want it fully inside me,” Janey whispered, “I’m going to roll onto my back, so roll with me — I don’t want that hot rod to leave my cunt until we have come.”

We completed the manoeuvre successfully, but there were a couple of moments when my dick felt as if it would slide out. Pushing it back in again, though, heightened both our pleasures. Once in position, I pushed my dick in up to the hilt and paused to savour the feeling of it being engulfed in that cauldron of hot passion juice.

Janey must have been feeling something similar, for she was tightening her vaginal muscles and gripping my dick tightly, threatening to cause it to erupt with a strong flow of semen.

Janey released her grip on my shaft and whispered, “Let’s fuck.”

I began sliding out and back into Janey, slowly at first, and gradually building up the speed. Each stroke brought me closer to the precipice of orgasm, and I knew that I could not last much longer. As I pumped harder and faster, Janey’s breaths became shorter. In between breaths, she gasped out, “Oh yes, keep on going, I can feel my orgasm building up, harder, faster.”

“Janey,” I pleaded, “If I don’t stop to allow my sensations to subside, I’m going to shoot my load in the next two or three strokes.”

“Keep going, I’m getting close, fill me with your spunk, I love your hot cock charging up and down my cunt, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

I managed another four strokes, and on the next upstroke, I shot my load. It was a lot, I could feel that much.

“Oh my God,” Janey screamed, “You’ve come. I felt it hit my cervix.”

My next stroke fired another large load.

“Hell’s bells, another shot, keep it coming, fill me up. I’m almost there.”

Another four strokes produced more semen, the quantity diminishing, but just before I was dried out, Janey tensed beneath me and she grabbed my shoulders, pulling me fully on top of her and clenching me tight against her body. Now bearing my whole weight on her, Janey seemed to go rigid beneath me. Her vaginal muscles gripped my dick hard and she seemed to stay like that for ages, but in fact could only have been a second in time. I then felt a tremor in her legs, slight at first, but building up, and, suddenly her vagina squeezed my dick even harder and just as suddenly released as a convulsion wracked her body, eliciting a loud “A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-h”.

Janey’s body shuddered several times as the orgasm ripped through her, and all that time she clasped me close. When her orgasm subsided, I rolled off of Janey and we lay next to each other, recovering. After a few minutes, Janey said, “That was the best fuck that I have ever had. I wonder how I look.”

“It was the best for me too,” I responded, and I sat up to look at the length of her body. A smile of total satisfaction adorned her face, her breasts were flattened on her chest, but her nipples stood proud, and her pussy; well, that was absolutely soaking with our combined juices, and there was an extensive wet patch on the fireside rug beneath her bum. “Your pussy is dripping,” I informed her.

“I must see,” Janey said as she stood up. When she did so, white goo flowed from between her pussy lips and down the insides of her thighs. She felt it and looked down, “Oh my God, I’m leaking.”

She placed a hand between her legs and scooped the goo from her pussy, which filled her hand. Janey examined the goo, sniffed it, and then licked it.

“First time I’ve done that,” she said, “Tastes not bad either.”

And she then placed her whole hand over her mouth and licked the rest of our combined juices off, swallowing the lot. “You’d better fetch me a towel from the bathroom, I can’t walk about the house dripping everywhere.”

When I returned with the towel, I noticed the mantelpiece clock — it still read 9:40. A sudden panic hit me.

“Holy shit, that clock has stopped!” “Of course,” replied Janey, “It hasn’t been wound up since my father died. If you want to know, the time is 10 to 11.”

“Christ, my wife’ll be going ballistic, I’ll have to get going.”

Janey moved up to me and place her arms about my neck, “Do you have to? Why not spend the night here, with me? I want to fuck again, only this time more slowly. I want to suck your dick, I want you to lick my cunt, I want you to squeeze my tits and suck my nipples.”

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