Beginning Again

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When the bus finally pulls up, I stretch. The thin black skirt that I’ve worn is stuck to me from sweat. I pull it away from my body and get off. I can see Randy standing in the lobby waiting and after I pay I step out to meet him. He is grinning widely, that grin I remember from high school.

We grin for a moment at each other and then I reach up to hug him. We hold tightly for a while and then I step back and stretch out my shoulders a bit. My shirt raises and his eyes go to the navel ring I am wearing. I pull my shirt down slowly looking at him and then rub my hand casually down my skirt and stop on top of my mons. His eyes follow and I rest my hand there for a moment. I can feel myself through the thin skin of the skirt for I have no underpants on.

I have been waiting for this day for months. Randy and I reconnected recently for a few hours and then again six months later for some hikes and discovered heat between us. Hot enough to need to explore, to take the risks required to do this. So we planned another meeting in his city. Neither knowing what exactly would happen; both primed for something hot. Both a bit nervous.

Outside the waiting room, I notice a faucet near a bench and sit down. I take my sandals off. “Would you go and get a squirt of soap from the bathroom for me?” I ask. He does that and rubs the soap onto my feet. I wash them in the faucet and then dry them on the thick grass nearby. I take out my lavender lotion and squirt a big milky blob onto my hands. I rub it around until it squelches. Then I rub it on my feet. I take my time moving slowly between each toe, under my arch and then around my ankle.

“Lets go,” I say when I am done.

After we pick up my luggage, Randy leads me to his car. Before we get in, he turns me towards him and we kiss. The first time in 15 years? In 20 years? I don’t know. It is slow and leisurely, both of us taking our time.

Once in the car, I give him directions to my dads. I lean over and pull a hand towel out of my bag and place it on my lap. Then I get out the pomegranate I have brought. Randy looks over at me, puzzled, but doesn’t say anything. I hold the pomegranate with both palms covering it as we talk about nothing. After a few minutes, I hold the fruit and push my fingers into it. Its skin pushes in and then finally splits. Scarlet beads spill from the torn pomegranate.

I pull some red globules out along with the cream colored parchment holding them together and hold them up to him.

“What does this look like?” I ask. “Like a beehive,” he replies. “Not at all. Like a woman,” I say.

I bring the pieces back to my mouth and began to crunch on them slowly. As I do, my fingertips turned red and some juice runs down my hands. “Have you ever eaten a pomegranate?” I ask “No,” Randy replies. “But I think I’d like to.”

I spread the pomegranate further, my fingers squishing the fruit and big arcs of the juice fling out. Some of it runs down my arm. I put my nose up to it, inhale and savor the smell and then with the point of my tongue, touch the opening of the cleft. I lick the juice and crunch slowly on the seeds. I can see Randy looking over at me.

“Like a woman?” I ask. “Yes,” he says. He shifts slightly in his seat and his legs spread a bit further apart.

I crack the fruit in two and hold the open redness up toward his lips. He puts out his tongue and nibbles a bit and the red juice begins to run down his chin.

“Pull over right there,” I command pointing to the curb.

He quickly pulls over and parks on the side of the road. I unbuckle and lean over and begin to lick the juice off his lips, gently. He grabs me and tries to kiss me, but I pull back and smile.

“You can suck on my fingers while you drive.”

He begins to drive and sucks on my fingers for a while removing every tiny spot of pomegranate juice. Then, I begin to eat the pomegranate seeds again and let the juice run down my chin. I leave it there.

Leaning over, I take off my sandals and raise my foot into the air. I lower the open pomegranate over my big toe and ease it on. When it fits snugly, I raise and lower the fruit over my toe and my toe becomes gooey with juice. I smear the juice all over each of my toes, paying close and loving attention to each of them.

“Pull in here,” I say. Randy does and we park in front of my father’s house. I offer my foot to him.

“Lick it please.”

He raises my pinky toe to his mouth and sucks on it. He nibbles on my skin. He licks like a cat with long, languid laps. Then he turns his attention to the toe with the ring on it. Gently, he pulls the toe into his mouth, and when it emerges, the ring is gone. He takes the pomegranate from me and rubs it over the toes of my other foot. Then he extends a toe and slides it into his mouth. With his tongue and teeth, he slides the ring back on to my toe.

As he does so, his eyes slide down my exposed leg under my skirt. My vulva pulses there with the warm air and he slides his hands down gently until it reaches the crease escort bayan kağıthane between my inner thigh and my vulva. Caressing for a second, he runs his hand back up to my foot.

“Your face needs washing,” he says. “Can I wash it for you?” “Please do.”

He licks and nibbles all over my face, my earlobes, cleaning my chin and exploring my tongue. I could see the expanding bulge in his pants. He interrupts our kisses for a moment to reach down and adjust himself. I smile into his eyes.

“Lets get out.” I say. “Leave the luggage.”

We do and I lead him into the house. We dated in college. There was chemistry, but nervousness. Who knows what else. Whatever it was, we never did get together, always had some feelings, but never explored them much. But now, now, I intended to fully explore them in a very adult way.

As soon as we get into the hallway, I back him up against the wall and kneel down on the floor. He spreads his thighs and his hands entwine in my hair.

I tug at his belt, and unbutton the top of his jeans. The zipper is cold and I have to tug on it around his erection. I reach in and release him. I haven’t seen him, played with him here for many, many years; not since I was just beginning sexual exploration. A lifetime ago. My eyes lock onto his rigid cock jutting up and out from his body and I bury my face into his dark curly hairs. I inhale the damp musky smell and feel the head of his cock rubbing along my face.

I put my hand softly over his balls and roll them around a bit. I love what men have. Those squishy little sensitive bags. Those tender little meatballs. I love how they hang soft and low when they are warm and suck up tiny and shriveled when cold. They are the softness beneath the hardness of the penis.

Placing my hands in an oval surrounding his penis and testicles, I grasp the base of him gently between my fingers. I kiss the head of his cock and leg my tongue dance lightly against it with fast flicks. I rub the tip of my tongue around the ridge. Flick the underside of it. Then I lick up and down the length of his shaft and back up again savoring the saltiness.

I take both hands and cover them with my own saliva, then gently surround his shaft interlacing my fingers on top and stroke up and down the length of him. The soft slippery skin of my palms graze against him.

I push my tongue against the opening of his cock. Then I slowly lower my lips onto the head taking him in to his ridge and savor the taut hardness of him and the blue veins running along the top side. I look up at Randy and let my lips and tongue rub along him. He’s watching, and I see what he’s seeing, a woman’s mouth on a man’s cock, softness and hardness, wetness and skin, a man and a woman and it’s hot.

Randy reaches down to slide his hand up my inner thigh. With one finger he gently circles around my pubic mound and them along the crack of my lips. I am seeping and he can tell. He takes his finger away and brings it up to his nose and sniffs and sucks on it. Then once again he takes his finger down, this times inserting just a little deeper into the opening. He brings his finger up to my nose this time and I lick and suck on his finger tasting my own juices.

Then in one swift movement, I take him completely. I push, push, his cock deeper into my mouth. I wrap my tongue around the underside of his shaft and then against his swollen head. And I am there on my knees in front of a man. My hands and my mouth and my breath on him.

Then he pushes my head roughly all the way onto him and I kiss and lick and suck and hold. And I take one of his soft furry balls into my mouth and gently roll it around, playing my tongue over it. I cup his balls and gently scratch with my fingernails on that spot behind his testicles. I push up gently with my finger into his perineum.

I suck on him, until he squirts his hot juice and then I let that energy, that smoking lust run down my chin. I love sucking on him. I love the feel of him and wonder where all that power and tissue and blood goes when he is not erect.

Does it go to create traces of lust, etchings all over his body? As it travels back to where it came, does it scatter those traces all over the body? In the brain, the nose, the ears, and the skin. Perhaps he himself doesn’t even remember, but his body does, his skin, his blood and his eyes. They do. And they can trigger that reckless rush of blood to the penis. I know the anatomy, I can trace the arteries and veins from the penis back up to the heart, but what I want to know is something deeper, something unknowable.

I rub my face all over his crotch, smearing his juice and his smells all over me. Tasting them again on my tongue, in my nose and in my ears. I look up at him, at his graying hair and grin. I tuck him back inside his pants and zip him up and then stand and offer my tongue to him and he sucks on it and then takes my hand.

“I think you are in need of a good massage after all that travel,” he says.

He leads me into the bedroom.

“I’ll escort bayan taksim be back in a moment.”

He leaves for a moment and I hear opening and closing of cabinet doors in the bathroom.

I flop down on the bed with my arms flung out and when he comes back in I turn my head towards him. He places a green bottle on the nightstand and then arranges a flannel sheet along the end of the bed.

He opens the bottle, spills some oil out onto his hands and rubs it around, warming it. The smell of eucalyptus washes over me – somehow he has either known my favorite relaxing smell, or by coincidence that is what he has found.

“OK, get out of your clothes and lie down on your belly.” “All my clothes?” I ask. “Yep.” He grins at me.

He leaves again as I take off my skirt and shirt; I have nothing else on. Randy comes back in with an open bottle of champagne and two glasses. He pours two glasses and offers me one, setting the bottle down next to the bed. He has taken his shirt off.

When I have sipped and am lying down, he applies oil to my shoulders and back. I feel his hands and am conscious of how big they are, how big he is, over 6’3″ to my small 5’2″. I suddenly remember our prom and grad night pictures. Randy seems feet taller than me in those pictures, his hands spanning my whole waist. I have forgotten this. I suddenly remember that my mom found this fascinating at the time.

He pulls his hands across my shoulders and down my back; putting pressure on each side of my spine with his thumbs, and placing his fingers on the edge of my back. It is clear that those hands that can so loosely and confidently move the slide of his trombone to the exact place it needs to be can also confidently give a massage.

He works up and down my spine several times and then begins on my shoulder muscles, both the muscles extending from my neck down, and then those deep under my shoulder blades, the scapularis and subscapularis, where I am holding a lot of tension. He works down the center muscles on either side of my spine using the tips of his fingers, but with the full force of his weight behind them.

I feel the strain of traveling begin to leave my body. He starts again at the top of my back and rubs briskly from side to side, from my shoulders to the base of my ass. He does this several times, and then goes back up and repeats it. But this time, he strokes across my back slowly and starts with his fingers just beneath my underarm. He pulls and I feel my breasts and nipples pull outward against the soft warm sheet. He works his way down to my lower back.

He continues down until he reaches my pelvis still dipping his hand under me each time he strokes. I can feel my labia opening and exposing my clitoris. He continues on the other side. I begin to feel a new kind of tension building up in my body.

After a while, he applies more oil to my ass and upper thighs, working it in. His fingers stray down and massage the crease of my ass.

“Does that feel good? he asks.

I nod, unable to speak. And once again, I remember high school. Both of us uncertain. Both resorting to giggling when we had no idea what to do. It’s clear that we have grown up. That we are fully adult now, and have something much deeper to offer each other.

He gently rubs my ass, once again reaching under my pelvis and pulling up on me just enough for my labia to separate. He runs his finger down the crack of my ass, pausing at my back exit and circling it a bit with his fingertip. Then he runs his finger down even further, almost to my by now red throbbing place, but not quite. I want to raise my ass and spread my legs, want to beg him to touch me there, where I am hot and wet. Instead, I force myself to remain still, feeling every push and tug of his hands on my damp skin.

He works his way down my thighs, standing beside me. His fingers coming close to, but never touching my cunt. I spread my legs a little bit, and he touches my clitoris just slightly with a fingertip. He pauses and I can feel his hand cupping my cunt; so close I can feel the heat from his hand. But he doesn’t touch it. I push my pelvis back to reach his hand, but he removes it and begins working his way down my legs to my calves and feet.

He massages my feet and at one point I can feel him press his lips to my instep. He sucks gently on each toe and licks up my calf like a cat. He presses his thumbs deep into the fleshy part of my sole.

“Turn over now,” he says.

I turn over and stretch my arms above my head and spread my legs just a bit, just enough to make the inner walls of my pussy clench when I feel the air. His hands move over my shins and kneecaps, then higher to massage the front of my thighs. My pussy is so wet that I drip my own juice onto the soft sheet where it joins the eucalyptus oil.

Randy stands at the side of the bed between my feet and rubs from my feet up to my thighs and just as I think he will touch me, he pulls his thumbs out and runs them up the crease between my thigh şişli escort bayan and pubic mound. The room is starting to smell like sex and I wonder if he can smell me. He must be able to; I am much further that he from the source of that aroma and I can smell it.

For a moment, I open my eyes and look out the window. There is an old gnarled tree out there. It reminds me of the ancient lilac tree in our yard when I was a child. The one I would shimmy up hand over hand with my legs wrapped around it. If I got up high enough and let the burl from where there used to be a branch just catch me so, then it would make the most sensational tingle throughout me. I’d see stars and get all hot. I smile at the memory.

“What are you grinning about? he asks.

I tell him about my memory of the lilac tree and he smiles a little smile and then continues with his massage.

He moves up to my neck and massages outward to my shoulders, back inward and down, circling my breasts, not touching them. My nipples are tightly drawn in anticipation, but he doesn’t touch them.

He massages down my right arm, pausing at my fingers to suck each one and to press his thumbs rhythmically deep into my palm. He continues on the other arm and then finally, finally his palms cover my breasts. I can’t hold back a moan of pleasure as he cups and kneads my breasts, pushing them together and then drawing them apart.

“Yes, please, do that some more.” I groan.

Occasionally he gives my nipples a little lick or a little suck and when he does this, he glances up at me and his eyes twinkle. He leaves for a moment and then dribbles a little more oil between my breasts and over my breasts and it runs down my sides to the sheet. I squirm in the mixture of sweat, oil and pussy juice beneath me. He rubs his hands and arms all over my chest smearing the oil in.

Then he takes my nipples between his fingers and twists just a little bit. He tugs one nipple up and then the other one. After a while, he takes a towel and wipes some of the oil off of by nipples and then he tugs harder and forces my nipples up and away from my breasts. When he releases them, my nipples stand tall and stiff, aching for more of his touch.

He moves back to the edge of the bed between my feet and leans over me. He places his hands on either side of me and then circles his tongue on my breasts, circling ever so slowly toward my belly button. I can see his smooth muscular arms and reach up to stroke them, to hold onto them. He moves his hands up to my breasts and grasps each one in a hand and his tongue continues to circle, lower and lower until it is circling around and into my belly button.

So quietly, I had to strain to hear it he says, “Open your legs more please.”

And I open my legs as wide as I can.

I can feel him running his tongue around the triangle of hair I have. Occasionally he quickly touches or licks the split between my labia. Then he slowly opens them with the tip of his tongue and thrusts it inside quickly. As quickly as it was there, it is gone. And I am left aching.

His fingers tease my opening and then he eases two of them into me. My clit is swollen to the point of bursting if it could, throbbing. He eases three fingers in and pushes a little harder and I push back to take him in, reveling in the fullness of it.

He removes his fingers and rolls a fingertip around my clit and my body rolls to meet it. He runs his fingers up and down my labia, greasing them with my own juice as well as the oil. He runs a finger up my clit toward my belly button and then takes two fingers, his middle and his index and gently places then on either side of my clit and pushes my labia up towards my belly button. I gasp. My whole body arches.

He positions me so that my legs are hanging off the bed and my crotch right up against the edge of the bed. He kneels down, placing himself between my knees. I can feel his breath on my pubic hair, warm and moist. I can feel my labia, large, pink and swollen just waiting for him. And I feel him begin to lick my inner thighs. Finally, finally. At the same time that my pelvis tenses up, deep inside my body, I relax.

He is finally going to really touch me where I need to be touched. He pulls my labia into his mouth and begins to suck on them, pulling them deep into his mouth. He spreads them and sucks on my inner lips. Then he wraps his arms around me and rests his face on my pubic hair, rubbing against me. I can feel my cunt, red and engorged, powerful. And then I feel a different kind of vibration and I realized he is humming into me! He is humming in a baritone voice deep into me. And it is the most amazing feeling.

I hear him breathe in, as if he is savoring my aroma and then he exhales onto and into my soft thatch of hair. I become hot butterscotch flowing onto the bed.

He places his tongue, wide and flat on me and slides it from my vaginal opening to my clitoris and back again. Over and over again, not quite touching my clitoris. Sliding his tongue up my inner lips and then dodging to the other side. His finger presses down right above where my clitoris sticks out of its hood and then I feel him take my clitoris in his mouth and suck. I became a clitoris and pussy, and striving, wanting being and nothing else matters to me but this feeling right now.

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