Chapter 32
I was just like any other woman, full of desires and needs that throbbed inside me, leaving me needy and a little melancholic. I craved a love—one of those all-consuming kinds that rips you apart—but life, that old bitch, always seemed to swing doors wide open just to slam them in my face. It had been a long time since I'd been with anyone. Way too long. There was no one. Not a face, not a body, not even an imagined touch to ease my loneliness.
Among all the failed attempts that dragged me out of myself, I downloaded a dating app. I never expected much from it—no promises, no love—but maybe a quick relief, something to distract my days and, especially, my nights, would do the trick. I picked photos where my full lips—my best feature, no doubt—drew attention, looking softer than they really felt, and set up my profile like I was putting together a display window: trying to show off the best of me, even if it wasn't much.
I paid to boost my chances. Did I need to? Maybe. With the profile ready, I started swiping, scrolling through unknown faces and bodies, potential future lovers. One more attractive than the next, but there was something... something that didn't touch me. They seemed disinterested, or maybe I was too new to the game. I was probably doing it all wrong, like always.
That's when he showed up. He wasn't just another face. He was familiar. A strange shiver ran up my spine, a mix of surprise and nerves. Running into someone you know on there was prime gossip material with the girls. But him... He was different.
I knew him from church. Back then, passion was a sin, and I was already a potential sinner—our glances smothered by the relentless watch of everyone else. I'd sit next to him on the wooden pew, my skin pulsing with desire like the heat of hell was already wrapping around me. He had those full lips, and during service, I'd get lost. Lost in the urge to press mine against them, to feel them wet, hot, devouring me with urgency.
My skin, that traitor, tingled at the slightest brush of our elbows. It was supposed to be accidental, or so it should have been. But it wasn't. Never was. My body reacted like it had a mind of its own, and I knew, right then, that no prayer could redeem what was taking hold of me. I'd soak my panties just from sitting beside him. And he knew. He had to know. The way he'd look at me, his eyes landing on my neck, the curve of my nape, like he could sense my scent.
I was nervous. My hands were sweating, my heart pounding like something inside wanted to break free. It had been so long since I'd seen him. So long since distance and life had torn him away from me, throwing us in opposite directions. But now, the memories came rushing back—and with them, the desire. It hit me full force, violent, like a wave crashing through me, leaving me wet, hot, anxious. With a stolen breath, I mustered the courage. I grabbed my phone. A simple message. Cool, like I could control what I felt. "You going to praise practice on Sunday?"
The question was playful, like no time had passed between us. But I knew he'd remember me. I was sure. He couldn't have forgotten. The reply came quick, more vibrant than I'd imagined. He seemed surprised, but it was more than that. There was something in those words that hit me, an excitement that twisted me up inside. It didn't take long for the chat to slide into something else. He wanted to see me.
We set it up at the old diner from our church days. A piece of our history was still there, among the plastic tables and the smell of grease. It was a place I knew well.
I spent the whole day getting ready, my body buzzing with almost teenage frenzy. I'd never primped so much for such a simple spot. Every detail mattered: my hair, my skin, my lipstick. Everything had to be perfect. And as I stared in the mirror, I thought: being there with him would bring it all back. It'd be like stepping into a time when it was just us two, in the same space, the same desire.
He got there before I could calm down. He wasn't the same anymore. None of the boy I knew. The awkwardness of youth had left him, and in its place was a man. His face was more defined, mature. His body broader, shoulders taking up more space—he looked like a gym rat. I felt my body react before I could stop it. A tremor shot up my legs, nerves burning in my chest.
He smiled. That smile with that delicious mouth. Like the years hadn't passed, like he could read me with one look. We sat. The place was the same, but his presence made everything feel smaller, tighter, like the world had shrunk around us.
The talk started shy, stumbling over memories. Melancholy. We laughed about old stuff, stories that seemed ridiculous now. We talked about the years we'd lost, taking turns telling what life had thrown at us during the absence. He'd look at me while he spoke, eyes locked on mine, but every now and then, they'd drop to my cleavage, no hiding it.
"Whatcha gonna do now?" he asked, his voice deep, gravelly. It was almost a caress, the sound slipping into my ears and down my body.
"I dunno. It's early. I'd head home. Got work tomorrow," I replied, trying to sound casual, but my breathing was already shorter.
He smiled again, this time with a hint of mischief that made me cross my legs right away, like I was trying to hold back a volcano between my thighs.
"Let's go to my place." The words came without hesitation, his tone full of certainty. He leaned in a bit, eyes fixed on mine, and added: "Ain't nobody watching us anymore."
My heart raced. I froze for a second, like my mind was fighting what my body had already decided.
We stepped into the house, but I didn't see a thing. Didn't notice the furniture, the walls, the smells. Everything blurred because I knew. I knew why we were there. Adults. No rules, no watching eyes, no stupid innocence from before. The door had barely shut when he walked toward me, steady, determined. The world seemed to split in two, an abyss opening the instant his lips touched mine. Sweet, full, soft. They fit against mine like they were made for it, and my whole body responded, like a silent explosion rippling through every inch of me. A symphony. He was hot, and his heat consumed me. His hand slid up my nape, strong fingers tangling in my hair. My body gave in, I surrendered completely, no holding back, no thinking.
My tits were pressed against his chest, and I wanted more. Wanted his hands there, claiming me. He was trying to be gentle, like some chivalry lingered, but it pissed me off. I didn't want gentle. Didn't want sweet. I wanted him to dominate me, take me without shame. I was thirsty. Thirsty for sex, for his body, for the taste of sweat and spit mixing in that kiss. A fire climbed up my legs, igniting me from inside, turning everything into pure desire. Crazy with lust, I felt my skin burn, chills growing as the heat built.
"Don't treat me like that. Take me." I whispered, almost a moan, pulling his face closer.
He froze for a beat. His body stilled, but his eyes didn't leave mine. A chill ran down my spine, and I regretted it instantly. His face changed, shutting down sharp. He got serious, almost angry. For a moment, I thought he'd push me away, yell at me. My chest tightened with guilt, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he grabbed me with a force that felt like he wanted to melt me into him, like he wanted to make me part of his body. His hands roamed over me, rough and painful, no tenderness. My body didn't fight it, totally submissive to what he was doing, yielding to the control he imposed. The kisses, once sweet, were now wet, wild, starving. Sounds filled the space around us—smacks of lips, heavy breaths, muffled moans. The room felt smaller, choked by the heat pouring off us.
Clothes started coming off, ripped away like they burned our skin. His hands didn't waste time, fingers quick as his lips stayed glued to mine, hot and demanding. I trembled, feeling the cool fabric of my bra yanked down, and when it finally hit the floor, my tits bounced free for him to see. He stopped. For a second, he just looked, devouring me with his eyes. That intensity made me burn. Like he was stripping me again, but with his gaze. A quick shame hit me, a flush that almost made me cross my arms to cover up, but he didn't give me the chance. His big hands grabbed my tits, squeezing hard, and then, without warning, he took them in his mouth.
No affection. It was raw hunger, brutal desire. He sucked, bit, explored every bit with an eagerness that stole my breath. My whole body arched toward him, like it wanted to give more. I felt my nipples harden against his hot tongue, chills sparking across my skin. My life seemed to drain in that moment, each suck pulling away my resistance. Something hot and wet trickled deep inside me, excitement flooding like a dam breaking. I moaned without control, lost between pain and pleasure, as he kept devouring me with his mouth and hands, like he wanted to consume me whole.
He shoved me onto the couch, and my body fell without resistance, sinking into the cushions as he positioned himself in front of me. His belt buckle snapped, the sound echoing like a warning of what was coming. He shoved down his pants with his boxers, and there it was. My eyes locked on him, and a silly grin crossed my face.
His cock sprang out hard as rock, dark, with a smoothness that made it look like a work of art. The head was perfectly shaped, slightly pink, almost shiny, like it'd been hand-polished, a jewel on a staff of desire. It was big, imposing, intimidating. And irresistible. The skin looked silky but firm, promising pleasure and pain in equal measure. He stepped forward, that masculine vulgarity pulsing in every move. With one hand, he started stroking himself slow, like he was gearing up, fingers gripping the base, the cock throbbing like it had its own heartbeat. When he took another step, he grabbed my head, fingers twisting in my hair, and guided me straight to him. No gentleness, and I should've resisted. Should've. But I didn't want to.
I felt the hot, soft skin against my lips, its weight pressing into my mouth. He rocked slow, teasing, sliding in and out with a deliberate rhythm, making me feel every inch. My saliva started dripping, a warm trail down my chin, and I didn't care. I drooled shamelessly, lost in the frenzy of it. The feel of him filling my mouth was overwhelming. My lips stretched tight, pulsing as the cock slid back and forth. Like he was kissing me with it, like the thing had a life of its own, throbbing and demanding. My eyes flicked up to him, and I saw him looking down, like he was daring me to keep going. I smiled, but not with my mouth. With my eyes. Awed, enchanted by that dominance now between my lips. I sucked him hungrily, devotedly. My tongue wrapped around every part, explored every inch, while my teeth grazed lightly now and then, pulling a moan from him. The bitter, salty taste hit me like a punch, but instead of pulling away, it made me hungrier. I bit, sucked, drank in everything he gave, like it was nectar getting me drunk.
"I'm gonna cum," without finishing, he pulled me off to avoid it. "How do you want it?"
I wasn't a woman anymore. I was an animal, wild and speechless, unable to form words. Just moans and grunts escaped me, like my whole body had regressed to its most primal core. With firm hands, I yanked him by the hips to the couch, and he fell beside me, a bit clumsy but willing. Without hesitation, I climbed on top, dominating him like an amazon mounting her steed. My soaked panties were the last barrier, a wet witness to what was already overflowing from me. I straddled him, gripping his cock tight in my hand, feeling the heat and throb of that thing that seemed even bigger now, like desire made it more menacing. I started rubbing against him, grinding slow, feeling the delicious friction that drew moans from him and shudders from me.
His fingers, quick and sure, slid to my panties. In one tug, he yanked them aside, leaving me exposed. Cool air hit my wet skin for a brief second before he touched me. Then, in an almost slow motion, with a precise grind, I let him sink into me. Deep. Like he wanted to take root, fill every space inside. We both let out a sound in unison, a moan that seemed to echo through the room, announcing that pleasure had taken over. Orgasm loomed like a distant storm, about to hit us. He was under me, like a beast that couldn't be held back much longer. I held on, planting my feet, and started grinding, slow and teasing at first, pulling moans from him as our lips met in the most uncontrolled kisses. His hands gripped my ass hard, guiding my moves, trying to set the pace. But I didn't yield. I was in charge.
I felt completely filled, every inch of him invading my body. Pain and pleasure mixed so intensely I couldn't tell them apart. When he hit deep, my womb ached with a dull throb that made me bite my lip to keep from screaming. But I wanted more. I slammed down on him hard, bounced, ground, like I could devour him whole.
Then it happened. I felt his body lose control, tremors taking him. He let out a raw, desperate yell, like a man breaking apart. That was enough to push me over. I sped up, riding him rough, slamming against him as pleasure exploded inside me. The storm finally broke, a violent shock that seized my head, my body, every part of me. Amid screams and moans, I came hard, and my body gave out. I collapsed, still impaled on him, lifeless, like the orgasm had taken everything.
In the silence that followed, I felt something hot trickling between my legs, slow, like a river starting deep inside. I laughed softly, breath still ragged.
"Glory to God," I whispered. "Better stand tall, church..."
He laughed, a low, rough sound, tracing his fingers over my face.
"You silly thing," he murmured, pulling me closer.
And there we stayed, for a moment, wrapped in the mess we'd made.
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