Fact...Or Fiction

I've been a naughty blogger. Unfortunately, not the kind of naughty you've come to expect from The Naughty One. What can I say? Life becomes crazy and hectic...okay so it always was those two things but...even more so around the holidays. There are parties to attend, presents to buy, cards to mail out, and the list goes on and on. Anyway, I figured it was time to blow the dust off this little piece of blog space. So, a little fact...or maybe fiction. I'm not telling which.

A final kiss under the mistletoe for the benefit of those gathered around and we were out the door. As we walked to his car, I easily slipped back into a time when his hand at the small of my back had felt right and comfortable. Once inside the car, he reached over and placed his warm hand on my thigh and thanked me for joining him tonight for the party. I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear as I turned to admire the twinkle lights decorating the affluent neighborhood. Though I didn't draw attention to his hand on my thigh, I was never unaware. The silence in the car was surprisingly comfortable and I felt myself begin to relax into the leather comfort of the seat.

As the car gained speed on the highway, his fingers began to flex against my skirt. His fingers inched the soft material up until my knee and thigh were exposed. I drew a deep breath all the while wondering just how far I would let this go. Apparently, my mind was made up as I voiced no objection when he began to travel south toward his home rather than north toward mine. Pushing all thoughts of the consequences out of my mind, I fully gave into “for old time's sake” and opened my thighs wider as his hand slipped down the inside of my thigh.

The familiar pressure of his fingers squeezing the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh caused a throb to begin low. I could feel the moisture gathering at the apex and knew my breathing had picked up. His pinkie finger moved against the cotton of my panties. The touch wasn't fully intimate, more just a tease. And tease it did...my own touch hadn't been as satisfying as of late and I longed for someone else, but the pressure and warmth of his finger felt hypnotizing.

The drive was nothing more than silence and the ever steady brush of his finger against my panties. When we pulled into his drive, I sighed. I looked at him and he leaned toward me. Finally his hand left my thigh as he placed it against my neck and pulled. Our mouths met and the kiss was deep. His tongue stroked in a familiar pattern and I grazed his lips with my teeth as he'd always enjoyed. We pulled apart to ragged breathing and arousal surrounded us.

His pants pulled tight across his crotch and my fingers itched to touch and get reacquainted with his cock. I could picture his cock and how the foreskin would start to slip back exposing the tip. My breasts felt heavy inside of my bra and my nipples had hardened into tight peaks. His hands moved down my cheek, across my throat, and cupped my breasts. I was reaching for his pants when our foreheads met. He breathed against my lips and said, “We haven't changed.”

As quickly as the flame was fanned, it cooled. The breath I held began to burn and I turned back around in my seat and exhaled. A small smile curved my lips, but the humor was gone. I knew he'd meant that the passion that had always seemed to simmer just below the surface was still there. While he hadn't been my first lover, he'd been my first of many enjoyable and pleasurable experiences. It seemed natural that my body would respond to his touch.

Unfortunately, my mind responded as well. History is a funny thing to have with someone. You know it all...good and bad. I remembered incredible pleasure, but I was acutely aware of the pain as well. I knew that when things had turned ugly we'd each gone to great lengths to devastate the other. I looked at him and shook my head. Sex had never been our problem, but it was all the other trappings that came when the passions were cooled. Three whispered words ended our night. “Yes, we have.”