Everybody Has One!

Everybody Has One!

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Tags

Summary

Veronica came across an old picture of him. So many memories began to hit her at once. Does everybody have one like him?

Tags

Summary

Veronica came across an old picture of him. So many memories began to hit her at once. Does everybody have one like him?

Content

Submitted: October 11, 2012

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Content

Submitted: October 11, 2012

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Everybody has that one.  The one that made the mark in your memories.  The one that brings a smile to your face by a mere thought.  The one that causes you to close your eyes and reminisce over history.  Everybody has that one!  Everybody has that one that stirs up butterflies at the pit of your stomach.  Everybody has that one, that makes the pussy pulse to only the beat that he sets, that makes the clit tighten as if he is still inside you; urging you toward an escalation.  Everybody, including me has one and “D” is mine.

 

It had been months.  In fact, quite a few months had passed since last we spoke and even longer since we had laid eyes on one another.  If memory serves me correctly, the last time I saw him was here in my city.  He came to Trail Wood, IN with a travel league football team.  We arranged to meet at the little league game and for breakfast the next day.  If my memory is accurate I never told my husband, but I was sure to bring my son; I did not want to tempt fate.  My intention then was to let sleeping dogs lie, stay loyal to my relationship, and keep a childhood infatuation in its place- in my childhood.  The truth was, my truth was that it was never just a childhood infatuation, it was, has been, is, and continues to be that one.

 

I most stop flashing the memories, I am already moist.  These thoughts could prove to be a problem. 

 

So why today?  Why today did I find that picture?  Why today did his smile, pigeon-toed stance, and the smell of Drakar cologne enter my memory banks and cause a reactionary smile to my face and an explosion of wetness?  Of course I know the answer, but I ask the questions anyway.

 

My next move is instantaneous, feels like second nature.  Without hesitation, I quickly snap a pic of the old photo with my phone; I punch in the 10 digits that have been deleted from my contacts for months, erased from any address book for years, but surprisingly still branded into my subconscious- 503-298-9314.  Attached the photo to the text message which read “I ran across this flashback, thought you would enjoy.”  And then it happened, less than 20 seconds later it happened.  Not what I expected, but indeed what I hoped for; my iPhone vibrated with his number across the screen.  Boldly the smile crept to the corners of my lips.  My heart began to patter with anticipation and rhythmically my pussy contracted as if attempting to coheres his dick into staying put in its imaginary place. 

 

In just those few short seconds the deep rich mocha color of his shaft, the weight of such a powerful tool in my hand to caress, the magnificent way that his dick would enlarge as I massaged its full length, the rise of the two blood vessels that ran down the top of his dick like directional paths to pleasure.  A memory of the way his body tremor as my thumb teases the tip of his manhood, coaxing out a hot burst of his thick creamy lava.

 

These are the memories that I hold of my one.  Everybody has that one. 

 

I knew that I would not allow this call to go to voicemail.  “Hey stranger, how are you?  Long time no talk to” I smiled.  And as only he can, “Hey babe, thank you for the pic.  It made me happy.  How have you been?”  It had been six months since the last time we spoke.  I had offered to meet him for a rendezvous, an escapade, a sexfest, a no strings attached night of passion.  I admit that I was acting in hast, I was planning to cast all of my inhibitions aside.  For as long as I could remember I was a planner, if there was an A then there was a B.  If this happened, then I would respond with this way.  But not this time; this time I wanted to not think about the consequences or the after affects.  This time I wanted to be raw, pounded, and fucked.  Enough with the love making!  I had had it.  I offered myself to him, my one,  and he said he would find a way to make it happen.  But he didn’t, he was a no call no show.  I knew he felt it was best and that he was doing it for me, but it hurt and I was and am still pissed.  Although steamed with anger and all sorts of explanative that I want to shout out from the roof tops, the only thing I can muster in return is “welcome and I miss you?”  Silence. 

 

The silence has always spoken volumes for us.  For more than twenty years we have smiled, shared, cried, laughed, and teased through the silence.  Would this time be different?  I was angry with him and he knew, I knew, but I missed my friend, my first love, my muse.  At that moment I wanted to laugh again, I wanted all that I knew about him to fill my mind.  I wanted to masturbate to the sensations that he aroused in my body.  Quickly, I pulled away the already moist fabric that was covering my core.  I sighed with relief as I entered myself with two fingers in pleasure. 

 

He broke the silence, “are you playing with my spot?”  “Damn, he knows me, he knows his effects on me, he knows that he has been the source of many of my dreams and fantasies for twenty years.”  “Yes,” I moan.  “Are you going to help a lady out or do I have to do this on my own” I asked? 

 

“Taste them!” he commands.  “I want to hear you suck your fingers clean.  Now tell me what you taste like.  Tell me how you feel.”  He knows  that speaking these words aloud is beyond my comfort.  He challenges me to be a women that makes her needs and desires known.  My breathing hastens, my lips form to speak.  Quickly he interrupts my thought, “no hesitations Veronica, no buts, only follow through!”  I do what he urges; I remove my fingers from my private island; wet and covered with a secret sauce that does not yet have a flavor.  As if in anticipation, my lips part slightly as I gasp to taste myself.  From the bottom to the tip I suck, lick, and taste.  “It feels like Italian Salad Dressing, but I taste like a smoothie.  “Well,” he inquires?

 

“I taste like a smoothie, I feel bold, curious, and horny,” I whisper.  I could hear the sense of satisfaction in his smile.  The low tone that hummed as he proudly claimed his first possessions; my heart, my love, and for damn sure my body.  He was the first to unleash the power of my womanhood and he liked reminding me of this inevitable truth.  “That’s my girl,” he hummed “and smoothie is right.  I still have your cherry!”  Silence.

 


© Copyright 2018 by Shade. All rights reserved.

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