"Are you sure you want to go?" I asked.

"I have to," said Dennis, and started coughing all over again.

"I'm sure this... Fox... wouldn't care if you called and told him you were sick."

"I'm sure you're right, but it's his first evening in town. I can't let him down."

It had been a long week for Dennis. Sequestered with an auditor to get a precise valuation of assets. I knew how he hated that - especially since he picked up a flu bug, and was working bleary-eyed for the last two days. Then, as soon as that was over, the visit from the CEO of the company that planned to buy his. Jon Fox.

Fox... for a moment, I was fifteen again. Half my life ago...

I had always expected to lose my virginity to that Fox. Was ready to, even... I'm sure that we were only one or two petting sessions away, both unbelievably nervous. But then, the birthday party. And a month later, his folks leaving town. I think we could have survived either one separately, but not both together. We hadn't exchanged addresses when he left, because we were both too hurt. So that chance was gone. I found love again, found sex at about the same time, and eventually, found Dennis, who personified the first two.

I had often wondered how my life would have been if not for the party.

But that was a different time, and a different Fox. A different me, for that matter, and it may as well have been a different planet.

I shook my head to clear it and continued dressing, slipping into a green silk gown, cut low in both front and back. Dark hose, emphasizing the high slit.

Dennis needed to rest. His flu was worse. He was sweating in his double-breasted suit. But he insisted, and thought it important to show enthusiasm for Fox. Dennis's hands were shaky as he fastened my pearls around my neck.


Dennis drove his Lincoln to the hotel. The concierge called up to Fox's room, and we waited for him in the bar.

He strode into the bar with the confidence of a tomcat. He seemed genuinely pleased to see Dennis, shaking his hand warmly. He was slightly over six foot, broad-shouldered but lean. An athletic build. His hair was graying slightly at the temples. We stood to meet him.

Dennis coughed as he introduced me: "My wife Anne".

I took Fox's hand, staring at his face. His eyes. The gray hair threw me for a moment. It must have been dyed or premature, because I knew he was thirty, like me.

My heart was stumbling. I hoped the darkness of the bar hid my flushed face. "Dorian?"

I felt Fox jump, his hand tensing on mine. He still had not recognized me.

"Anne," I said, dumbly. "Anne Talley."

"Oh, my God. Anne?" His poise cracked, his tone closer to that of the nervous, gawky fifteen-year-old I recalled. Then he smiled, broadly, and I felt tremendously relieved.

"You know each other?" Dennis's voice was incredulous.

"Yes," I replied. "Dorian was a... friend in high school." I hoped he hadn't noticed my hesitation. I pulled my hand away from Fox. He seemed slightly startled to find that he was still gripping mine.

"Jonathan," said Fox. "I dropped Dorian as soon as I was away from my mother. Here." He took out a card and gave it to me. It was imprinted "D. Jonathan Fox", with a phone number in the corner and no other identification. "Call me Jon," he said.

I sat, still shaken. I grinned at Dennis. "I wish we had known," I said to him. "You could have gotten a better price."

"You obviously don't know the man as well as you think," said Dennis. He coughed again. "He wouldn't give a better price to his mother."

Jon Fox relaxed. He had worked with Dennis long enough to recognize the banter and respond in kind. "I hope she doesn't know me. I'd like to think a fifteen-year-old kid has grown up a little."

"The Fox I knew didn't have gray hair," I offered.

"Premature aging, he replied. Comes from working with hard-nosed managers like your Dennis. I'd guess you've changed some over the years."

His eyes bored into mine. I got the feeling that that he was trying not so much to maintain eye contact as he was to keep them from wandering over me. Either way, the attention made me giddy. I broke contact and sipped my drink.

Dennis coughed again. He was sweating, and started to loosen his collar.

"You don't look too good," commented Jon.

"I'm fine," croaked Dennis.

"He isn't fine, Jon," I contradicted. "He has the flu. Your auditors kept him working all hours while he was incubating it. He didn't want to cancel and disappoint you."

"God, Anne," objected Dennis.

"No, she's right," said Jon. "Why don't you go back home and get the rest you need? We're going to be working together, we can postpone dinner."

"Listen to sense," I told Dennis, grinning to soften the impact of my words. "Let me take you home. Have some Nyquil, and go to bed."

I picked up my purse and turned to thank Jon. Dennis interrupted me.

"No, no, I don't want to do that. I don't want to break up your reunion."

"Dennis..." I interrupted.

"No, let me finish," he said. "I'll go home. Why don't you get a taxi, so you don't need to drive. You have a good evening and come home when you like. It's a shame to get dressed up for nothing."

"I don't know..."

"Jon, would you mind?" he said. "It seems like you'd have plenty to talk about, and I'd feel less guilty about abandoning you. I won't be good company this evening."

"Love to," said Jon. "Anne?"

"Are you sure?" I asked Dennis.

"Absolutely. Just don't wake me up when you get home."

I walked back to the valet parking with him, and kissed him as he climbed into the car. "Get plenty of rest," I said.


When I returned to the bar, Jon had bought more drinks. I sat at the table, feeling tongue-tied.

"Well," I said, then lapsed into silence.

After a time, he said, "You have changed. I don't think you were capable of being so quiet fifteen years ago."

"I'm not now. This is just... difficult."

"Difficult? How?"

I swallowed. "Dorian... Jon, I mean. I've always wanted the chance to apologize to you, and now you're here, I don't know what to say."


"Yes. You know, for the party."

"Oh." Noncommittal. He remembered.

"I should have known that would happen. I didn't think about it beforehand, and I couldn't get the courage to say anything to you. And I thought there would be time..."

My eyes were moist. I tried to dab them with my napkin.

"I know," he said. "It seems like nothing important now, but at fifteen..."

At my birthday party, I had invited six girls and three boys, including Dorian. At the last minute, the other two boys had called to say they couldn't make it.

Dorian was alone with seven female teenagers, six of whom were in various stages of jealousy, independence, superiority. They tormented him cruelly. He was in tears when he left.

They kept it up for a few days at school. Alternating ignoring him with taunting him. Nothing of great significance, really, except for a young man barely through puberty, it was devastating.

"I wanted to write to you after we moved," he continued, "but we hadn't talked, and it seemed awkward. Later I wanted to write anyway, but I couldn't track you down."

I nodded.

"I got over it," he added, "but there've been times when I wished I hadn't had to get over you."

I grinned wryly. "So, what happened to you? You were rail-thin and nervous. Now you're obviously neither."

"You're saying I'm overweight?"

"No," I smiled and punched him lightly in the chest. He felt solid. "That isn't fat."

"I hope not," he said. "I guess college happened. I started running when we moved. Played football in college. Drank a little, did some public speaking. Dated. Growing up stuff."

I quelled a totally irrational pang of jealousy at the idea of him dating.

"What about you?" he asked. "You've obviously grown."

This time I caught his glance dropping to my dress, and suppressed a grin. He recovered and held my eyes as I gave him a condensed version of my life through and after college, now as a bank Vice President.

He nodded approval.

"You sound driven, too," he said. "Do you compete with Dennis?"

"I don't think so," I said. "We're too different, with totally separate careers. As far as we can tell, neither of us cares which one generates the most income. We always thought it would be me, until Dennis's company took off."

"You seem to have done well for yourself. I always knew you would."

I smiled at him. "Thanks for your confidence."

He grinned back. "Shall we eat?"

The hotel disco was playing loud early-80's music; the era we had grown up with. Snatches of sound drifted into the restaurant as we ate.

"They're playing our songs in there," Jon commented.

"I noticed. Would you like to dance?"

"That's a change. You hated discos and dancing."

"I hated the crap I took from the girls. Especially when they kept trying to steal you from me."

"What?" He seemed shocked. "I don't remember that."

"No, you probably don't. You had a lot to learn about girls in those days. I figure you'll have learned plenty by now."

"Some," he admitted.

"Could I drop my coat and purse in your room?"

"Sure," said Jon.

So we skipped dessert and took the elevator to the thirty-first floor. His room was a luxury suite; two king-sized beds, living room, whirlpool bath. The view was magnificent. I hung my coat and purse, and took his arm as we returned to the elevator.

The disco played all of our old favorites. We danced to many. I had more wine, and felt lightheaded.

The DJ played a Eurythmics song. Jon said, "We should have done this more when we had the chance."

"No," I said. Taking his hand, I pulled him close to me. "This is what we should have done. "

I felt a nervous thrill as he held me. Echoing my thoughts, Jon said "I feel that I'm an awkward teenager again." I nodded agreement.

His hands explored my back, gently, perhaps not even consciously. I squeezed against him, aware of my breasts pressing into him.

I gently bit his earlobe, and whispered, "I hope you're imagining how else I might have changed." I chuckled, feeling him shiver as I breathed into his ear.

"Something else we should have done more," he said.

"What's that?"

"This." With both hands he took hold of my head, then kissed me firmly on the lids, releasing me before I had chance to react.

"Wow," I sighed. Then: "I don't know. I remember quite a lot of that."

"Not enough," he said. "Never enough."

I touched his face. "You know," I said, "you're right."

I drew his face back to mine, and our mouths joined. Dancers made their way around us as our lips and tongues mashed together.

When we finally separated, I breathed deeply, resting my head on Jon's shoulder.

"Whew," I sighed. "You're right, we didn't do enough of that."

I held his hand as we left the disco. "You have coffee in your room?"

"And a minibar, if you want a nightcap. Or we could have something sent up. It isn't even nine yet. Let's celebrate."

"That might be dangerous," I commented.

"You're not driving," he said.

"That isn't the danger I mean," I muttered, but pulled a little closer to him.


In his room, Jon called Room Service, then hung up his coat and tie. We were sitting together on the couch in the living room when the room waiter arrived. He guided a tray with two glasses and champagne in an ice bucket.

Jon signed the check, opened the bottle, and poured our drinks.

"To a happy reunion," Jon said, and we drank.

Jon spent the next few minutes telling me how he had made his money and built his company. I realized that he was hiding nervousness by talking too much. I felt deliciously warm from the champagne. I put my glass down, then: "Jon?"


I reached for his glass, and set it on the table. Laying my hands on his shoulders, I pulled his face to mine.

My lips slid gently against his. He held me, palms below my shoulders. Reaching out with my tongue, I tasted him. He sighed, and kneaded my bare back.

The room may have been expensive, but the furniture was cheap. We couldn't get comfortable on the couch. I stood, drawing Jon up with me. I unfastened his shirt and tucked my hands in around his waist. I was still having trouble reconciling this lithe frame with the skinny kid I had known. I kissed him briefly, then unbuttoned his shirt to the top, placing my hands against his chest as we kissed again.

He held my shoulders firmly as we leaned together. His chest was taut and thick. I felt real strength there.

It came to me that this was part of what had held my interest in him as a young teen. He had promised power. He was certainly immature - we all were - but his body and mind were unusual. He was the seedling of what he had become: a man powerful in all aspects. Physically strong, self-assured, successful.

Perhaps it was not so surprising that at fifteen I had wanted to sleep with him.

Nor that, at thirty, I would learn that I hadn't stopped wanting to.

I slipped his shirt off him, and, looking into his eyes, traced my fingernails over his stomach. He looked uncertain for a moment, then slid the silk straps over my shoulders. I held his gaze as my evening dress slowly sank to the ground.

He dropped his eyes, and stroked my firm breasts. When he had last seen them, they had been well defined and compact. They were no longer compact.

I wrapped my arms about his neck as he squeezed my breasts. I felt my nipples hardening as I drew his open mouth to me. My face and breasts flushed hot as I hooked his tongue with mine.

He released my breasts and held my butt. I squeezed myself against his thigh, hard muscles pressing into my crotch. He slid his hands into my panties, firmly squeezing my cheeks.

My heart skidding, I broke free. Turning him around, I pushed him towards the bedroom, slipping off my hose and out of my shoes.

Clad in my underwear, I climbed into one of the king-size beds. Jon stripped to his boxers, stretched to breaking as they were, and I held the sheet for him to join me.

He nestled alongside me, and we explored each other. He was drawn to my breasts, squeezing and kissing them. He took each in his mouth, sucking and mashing with his tongue, as I watched him, head propped on my left hand.

"Some things never change," I murmured.

"These have." He grinned up at me.

"Not your interest in them," I replied, smiling, "or how this turns me on."

"I'm just selflessly doing what I remember you like," he said, innocently.

"Yeah, right," I said. "Well, here's something you don't remember."

I took his hand and slipped it down the front of my panties. As his fingers explored, his mouth fastened back onto my boob. I felt giddy as I pulled his underwear over his hard erection and ran my fingertips over the head.

I was warm with excitement, wet where his fingers played. Pushing the sheet off, I rolled him onto his back. I slipped out of my panties and flung them away, then pulled off and threw his underwear.

Straddling his thighs, I ran my fingers over his firm stomach. Then I lowered my body over his, my breasts stroking his chest. I kissed him wetly, running my tongue over his lips, and whispered, "And I've always regretted not having this to remember."

He shook his head in agreement, wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me to him. We kissed breathlessly. As his tongue explored, I reached down and took his cock, sliding it into me. I wriggled myself around him, every movement a tingle of pleasure, until he was deep inside me. I pushed my legs out behind me and lay along him, my body joined to his.

Jon's hands glided down to my butt. He squashed me firmly against him, hips pressing into me, sending arousal so deeply into me that it tickled my feet. I bit his tongue and started moving, a slow rhythm, intense and satisfying. Fighting the urge to hurry.

Releasing my ass, Jon traced patterns on my back, tantalizingly erotic. I released his lips, smiled into his eyes, and arched back slightly, giving him access to my breasts. He continued stroking with his fingertips, caressing my boobs, lightly stroking my nipples as I rocked my pelvis over his cock, each stroke a firm delight.

He cupped my breasts, squeezed and pinched. I stretched and arched further, pushing my nipples close to his face. He accepted the invitation, tonguing both nipples alternately, then taking one breast far into his mouth while kneading the other by hand. He sucked and stroked, and the tension of passion deepened my breathing.

By unspoken agreement we picked up the pace. The feel of him, deep inside, the joy of that intimacy; all melted into the lines of fire drawn against my clit. Experiencing the transcendent sharing of sex, knowing each other in a way that defied rationality as pleasure linked our souls - pleasure so intense it verged on pain, yet always tolerating, demanding more. Jon grabbed my ass again, still working my boob fiercely in his mouth, his fingers squeezing me against his cock.

I panted, losing control. He gasped, the sound muffled against my breast. He tensed as I felt need overwhelm my thinking. My mind skidded. If he comes and I can't, I thought, I'll go insane. Oh, God, what am I doing? What was I thinking? Oh, Dennis, Oh God, this is not my husband. This is a dream, God don't let me wake up until... This is real. This can't be real. God, this is. Always wanted him. Dorian? Can I...?

I started to moan. We took each other in powerful strokes. Each stroke brought me closer. He gasped into my breast again, tight with restraint.

I felt him tense, then yield - warmth, throbbing within me. I couldn't, wouldn't be stopped. Pushed harder, felt joy rising. It would happen. God, it would happen. I gasped, gasped. Jon switched breasts, sucking...

And I cried out as I climaxed, awareness leaving me for a moment as my body shuddered. Breathing ragged but deep as I found myself lying against him, breasts flattened against his chest, clutching his waist with my hands, his shoulder with my lips. Kissing his neck, his cheek, his ear, still rocking against him, still twitching in orgasm. Exquisite tension still with each stroke, but sanity and sobriety settling in.

Slowing finally, stopping to hold him inside, wishing I could raise another climax. Hmm... perhaps... and I shook myself against him, rubbing my clit against his cock, still so stimulated that I came almost immediately - not sense-shattering, but potent enough to allow me to relive the glorious high.

This time I lay still, content just to feel him inside me, and to kiss every convenient surface. When I felt his overworked cock slide from me, I lifted myself to my elbows.

Still breathing heavily, I asked him, "So... what do you do for an encore?"

"Flap my wings and fly like an eagle," he said. "No, wait, I already did that."

"No kidding," I said, and we held each other for a time.

"Worth waiting fifteen years for?" he asked.

"Don't know," I said. "Fifteen years of that might have been fun."

I stretched, arching my back. Jon's eyes grew.

"Do that again in a half-hour," he said.

"In half an hour, I need to be in bed. At home," I added, seeing his grin.

I started the shower, and would have been gone within minutes if Jon hadn't joined me. Instead, we were soaping each other down, laughing.

When I was rinsed and almost dry, Jon picked me up and carried me back to the bed.

"This was not why I just took a shower," I objected.

"There's plenty of water left," he retorted.

As his lips nipped my breast, I figured he had a good point.

His palm pressed against my pussy, and his fingers explored, recovering the lubrication I had lost in the shower.

He trailed kisses down my belly onto my thighs. Then slid his tongue around and into me, turning warm arousal into hot excitement as he massaged my swollen clit. Reaching behind my head, I pushed the pillows away, taking hold of the posts in the headboard to anchor myself. I stared at the ceiling, consumed by his fiery tongue. I pressed into his face; he responded by squeezing my butt and sucking on my clit.

I was still too relaxed. I was going to come too easily. Instead, I tensed, trying to delay gratification. Jon was ruthless. The pressure built quickly, but the wait was worthwhile - when he overwhelmed my defenses, I shuddered as delight washed over me.

Relaxing, I released the headboard and held my arms out. Jon lifted himself over me. I sighed as he lowered himself into me. I held him tight, my breasts flat against him as we kissed. I tasted myself on his tongue. Hooking my legs over his, I dragged him into me as we moved.

We bounced roughly on the bed. Still drained from our earlier exercise, Jon needed more stimulation, which I was happy to provide. I floated near orgasm, delicious feeling with each stroke.

When Jon seemed finally ready to come, I let myself go. We bucked together with abandon; I bit his neck and grabbed him as I reached my limit, digging my fingernails into his back as I came. I felt him erupt within me; we drew desperately from one another as we slapped together, trying to extend our passion.

When we finally pried ourselves apart, I lay back, recovering my strength.

"When do you leave?"

"Friday night."

"Why not stay an extra day?" I asked.

"I've called a meeting Saturday. I guess no-one would be heartbroken to do it Monday instead."

"Yeah. Tell them something came up." I grinned. Dragging myself out of bed, I headed for the bathroom and cleaned up quickly.

I called a taxi and was home in twenty minutes. Dennis of course was unconscious. I slipped into my nightdress, snuggled up to him, and joined him in sleep.


The magnitude of what I had done did not become real to me until the next morning, when it hit with a vengeance. I had to hide my aches - and a few small bruises - from Dennis. I was useless at work, distracted to the point of making some serious mistakes, having to spend most of my time proofing and correcting.

I alternated between feeling nervous and guilty, and being aroused and excited. If Jon - or Dennis, for that matter - had been around, I would have found a new use for the supply cabinet. As it was, I hoped no-one noticed how flushed I was.

Dennis returned from his meeting enthusiastic about the process. Most of the paperwork was completed. The banks gave their blessing, as did the company boards - both a formality, since both companies were profitable, adequately capitalized, and privately held.

On paper, Dennis and I were now worth a few million dollars. Not too bad for a five-year-old company. We had not been certain whether we'd be able to keep investment stock in the combined company, with Dennis still having a role, or whether Jon would want to replace him, when we'd probably need to take the cash and walk.

Jon wanted Dennis to stay on, and we could leave our investment in place.

Then, as I was taking Dennis coffee, he dropped the bombshell.

"Oh, and Jon said he wants you, too."

The cup shattered as Dennis's coffee hit the floor.

"Oops, the cup was slippery," I excused myself, trying not to show my shock. "Tell me what you mean while I get something for the mess." I scurried out of the room to get a cloth.

"He needs a financial officer. His wants to retire, and he figures you could work from the office here for the whole company. He said the job's yours if you're interested. Of course, you'd have to travel to head office occasionally."

I hoped that I was sufficiently composed when I returned with towels for the spill.

"Well," I said, "we don't need the money, and I'm fine at the bank. Perhaps we shouldn't keep our eggs in one basket. Let me think about it."

I finished cleaning up the spill ad the shards of stoneware. "Why don't you pour more coffee?"

He caught my shoulder. "I don't want coffee. I want you."

I was in no condition for horizontal athletics, but neither was I in a position to tell him so.

Besides, I'd been aroused all day.


I led him to the bedroom, and we undressed each other in the dark. If he wondered why, he didn't ask. Soon I was in his lap, my legs around his waist, holding his head to my breasts. I masked the occasional wince of strain as I rocked against him, his long shaft reaching areas of sensual power within me. I came quickly, propelled by a day's suppressed excitement, and even as overstimulated as he was, he recognized my joy and coaxed me to a series of ecstatic events before giving way to his own need, his cock dancing inside me.

"I should find a company to sell every day," he said, as we lay side-by-side. "That was terrific."

I ran my hand over his chest. "Just don't expect more tonight. I think you wore me out."


Saturday arrived. I made an excuse and left Dennis for the day. I headed directly to Jon's hotel, and straight up to his room. He let me in, and took me in his arms. After a brief kiss, I pulled away.

"Just a moment," I said, and headed into the bathroom. I had arrived wearing jeans and a thick sweater, but in my purse was a skimpy negligee. I stripped and donned it, wrapped a towel around myself, and left the bathroom.

I made a show of removing the towel, watching his face. He reached for me.

"No," I said, "not yet. You don't get to touch me until you're wearing the same amount of clothing as I am."

"OK," he said, and reached to start disrobing.

"No," I said again. "I'm going to do that. Deal?"

He agreed, and I started unbuttoning his shirt. I didn't take it off, though, stopping after a couple of buttons to remove his shoes. I left his socks on. Then I unfastened his pants, and as soon as he had stepped out of them, I pulled his underwear away from his cock. "Remember, no touching," I said. "You're still wearing more than me."

"Oh, God, that isn't fair," he said, as I pulled his boxers off.

I pushed him back onto the bed, and caressed his cock with my fingers. Then, holding it, I stroked it with the tip of my tongue, very slowly. I gently traced over the head and down the underside of the shaft to his balls. Very, very gradually, I used more of my tongue, until I was licking him broadly.

Then I slipped my mouth over the head, just slightly, and rubbed it with my tongue. He sighed, and reached for me. I broke away. "No," I said, "we have a deal." I covered the tip of his cock with my lips again, progressively taking in more of him. When I had taken as much as I could, I started rhythmically stroking him with my tongue. He tensed with each caress.

Whenever he seemed to be close to coming, I pulled my mouth away. After a time I would start over.

After several of these cycles, he was inside my mouth, and I pulled away quickly, making him jump. Then slid my lips all the way down, and continued to slide up and down on him. He started moving against me, but I pushed down on his thighs, stopping him. I sped up the motion, nodding my head while he slipped in and out of my mouth.

I felt him tense before he came, and I stopped. He whimpered a little, his cock, hard as glass, twitching slightly, then I tightened my tongue around him and started nodding again. He groaned, and I felt heat flow into my mouth. I let the sticky liquid drip out onto the bed.

While he was still coming, I pulled his socks off.

Then I joined him on the bed, and our hands and mouths explored. My negligee didn't last long. His lips enclosed my breast, tongue hardening my nipples. His hand compressed my pussy. Soon his mouth followed, and he brushed fire into me. I allowed the excitement to take hold, and soon was feeling the urgency of impending climax. My face flushed as the glorious effect engulfed me, and I basked in the emotional high.

When I relaxed, Jon returned to my side, and we lay touching.

"Did Dennis give you my offer?" he asked.

"Yes, he did."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know yet. I think I'm going to turn it down, as tempting as it is. I know you don't mean it this way, but it could get to seem a little like payment for ... well, payment for sex."

"It was a real offer, I think you'd do a great job. I admit, I'd like the excuse to see you, but that's only part of it."

"I'll think about it. I'm sure we can make the opportunities if we want to keep seeing each other."

"Well, I know I do, but you're the one in the difficult position," he said.

"Yeah, but let's deal with that later. Right now I want you inside me."

"You wrecked the chances of that," he complained.

"Perhaps I can correct the error," I grinned, and stroked his cock. It responded feebly. With some encouragement from my tongue, it revived slowly but adequately, and I straddled him, sliding his newly reenergized cock into me.

We rocked gently, sharing the glow of intimacy. He reached up and stroked my breasts. I lowered my body over his, supporting myself over him, my breasts brushing against his chest. It seemed that his cock was continuing to harden, or perhaps it was just the level of stimulation. Whatever the reason, his presence was getting stronger within me. He lifted my breast to his mouth, nibbling, causing my muscles to contract around his cock, taking both of us higher.

I stopped moving, and stretched my legs out behind me, lying along him. I licked his lips and tongue as he squeezed my ass.

I buried my face in his shoulder and pushed my hips hard against him. Squeezing then relaxing, rather than steady motion. Each squeeze sent a quiver through my body from the fullness of his cock within me.

"Are you ready?" I asked, whispering into his ear.

He shook his head. "Not yet, but don't hold back. When you come I feel wonderful, knowing that I'm part of if."

I nodded my head, still squeezing rhythmically against him. "I wanted you to be my first lover," I said, breathing hard. "Until I met Dennis, I thought of you every time I had sex. I lost my virginity to Terry Baxter. It wasn't very good, and when it was over, I cried, because he wasn't you."

"Oh, Anne ..."

"It's okay," I said, the thrill still building within me, "it was a long time ago, now. It seems ... appropriate, wonderfully appropriate, that if I couldn't lose my virginity to you, I can lose my fidelity. You may not have been my first lover, but I'll never regret making love to you."

He put his hands against my ribs and lifted me. Looking into my eyes, he cupped my breasts, then locked his lips to mine. We swayed together, joined in desire, then started thrusting against each other, quickly, strongly. His hands were all over me, and he released my lips to squeeze me to him, lifting his back slightly from the bed to get better penetration. We threw ourselves into our love-making with new, ardent enthusiasm.

"Oh, God, Anne," he said.

I kissed his forehead, short of breath.

He moaned. I felt him come powerfully within me. I pushed him back on the bed and kissed him, pushing my tongue deep into his mouth. As he responded, I rammed against him, emotional energy climbing, until I also exploded. He pressed himself hard into me, holding me in my passionate state, as I rapidly sucked air, still pressing his tongue with mine.

Pressing his cock deep within me, keeping tension on my clit, he maintained my orgasm, then when I started to relax, he moved against me again, pushing me into the next of a series of deeply sensual highs, until as his cock lost its hardness I felt satisfied but drained.

I stayed atop him when we were through, loving the feel of his skin against mine.

"I guess we're satisfying each others' fantasies," he whispered, as he caressed my back.

"You had them too?" I asked.

"You bet."

"Did I live up to them?"

"And more."

"You too," I said, snuggling my face into his neck.


Neither of us knew at that time whether we would ever have more time together, or if we did what direction our affair would take. For the rest of that day, we didn't need to. We spent it in bed.

Making love.