Bang Gang

I looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time in years, and his eyes were older, his skin more rugged, more lined. Seven years had aged him. Seven years had turned him from a lean youngster into a man. A proper man.

Seven years really suited him.

My lips were already parted when his landed. My tongue ready for his as he pushed his way inside. My hands gripped at his shoulders, and he was broader, firmer. He backed me into the door, his kiss hot and heavy, so deep that I felt consumed.

I always felt like that with Darren.

His body pressed against mine, his crotch to my belly, and I felt him there, the thick ridge of his cock straining in his jeans. My fingers sought out his belt, dithery as they fumbled with the buckle. His hands didn’t leave my face, didn’t let me go, not until he broke the kiss long enough to tug my top up over my head and throw it aside.

He made lighter work of my jeans than I had with his. I stepped out of my heels and kicked them aside with the tangle of denim, and I felt so exposed, smaller without my heels and so much less sure of myself than I’d been in front of the mirror at home.

I felt the blush on my cheeks as he stepped away, those heavy blue eyes eating me up, taking in everything – every curve, every wobble, every imperfection.

“I like this,” he said. His fingers trailed up the floaty fabric, his thumbs seeking my nipples through the frilly cups.

I let out a breath and his touch became rougher, fiercer, squeezing at my tits as he pressed his thigh between mine. I gasped as he came in for another kiss, and this time the endorphins rescued me, made me brave enough to wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight. His thigh ground against my pussy and made me shudder and moan.

Oh fuck, how I wanted him.

I’d forgot how it felt to want him this fucking bad.

He tugged my babydoll down and my tits spilled over the top. He flicked my nipples with his thumbs and they sparked so hard I felt it in my clit. My pussy clenched and he responded, grinding his thigh just that little bit harder, enough that I couldn’t stop my hips moving, grinding right back at him. I felt the waves building, my clit buzzing against the coarseness of denim through flimsy lace. My breaths turned shallow, my hands snaking down his back until they landed on his ass. I urged him on, rubbing against his leg like a bitch on heat, so fucking needy that my legs were wobbly and weak.

“Easy, tiger,” he breathed. “We’re not even in the fucking bedroom yet.”

He stepped away and my whole body sagged, bereft at the abandonment. He took my hand and led me down the hallway, and it suddenly seemed so funny, so surreal. I giggled, and he flashed me a smile over his shoulder. He pushed the bedroom door open and flicked on the light.

I soaked it in, all of it – the obviously clean sheets on the bed, the way the covers were so tidy. His dirty clothes were piled up in the laundry basket, not scattered all over the floor, and there was an absence of dirty mugs on his bedside cabinet.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head and my appreciation of the room lost its gusto. We could have been in a hotel from Hell and I wouldn’t have given a damn with that fucking body in front of me.

“What?” he said. “What’s the grin for?”

I shook my head. “I’m just… you look so different.”

He pulled a face. “Not that fucking different, Jo.” He dropped his jeans and took hold of his cock. “See? Some things haven’t changed a fucking jot.”

My heart was fucking hammering.

God no. His cock hadn’t changed a jot, and I was glad of it. His cock was still as thick and dark as it always had been, the same veiny pattern creeping from his balls to the swollen head of him. Fuck!

His thighs were thicker and his abs were way more defined, but his balls still hung heavy in exactly the same way they always had. I knew how they’d feel in my hands, knew how the nest of wiry hair would tickle my nose as I sucked them into my mouth.

I felt myself relax, let my clammy thighs drift apart as I stood before him.

“It’s been a while,” I said.

“Like riding a fucking bike,” he said.

“Well thanks.”

“You know what I mean. It’ll be great. You’ll be great.”

“I hope so.”

He smiled. “I’ll show you.” He held out his hand and I took it, let him guide me to the bed and push me backwards. I landed with a bounce and a giggle, my hand across my eyes as he dropped to his knees and eased my legs open.