Rediscovery And Recovery Ch 06

Confessions and Giving in

After the best part of eighteen years, I've been reunited with my childhood best friend, Emily, a school friend and swimming partner. It came about because after a failed marriage, I moved back to my home town; it came about also because my mother encouraged me to rediscover the swimming pool, a place where I'd been happy and comfortable as a growing child and teenager. Em was at the pool, and we swam together and raced again. Then, somehow, we were suddenly very close to making love in the showers and in the locker rooms, but we resisted; instead we've been making love with our words, our conversation, just in company with each other. We've rediscovered a bond, one which promises both a future relationship and no small amount of emotional healing, for both of us. First however, some questions needed to be answered - just how much of a coincidence was all this? I needed to know.

So then

I asked, just as the Indian food arrived at the table,

how come my mother knew who it was I'd bumped into this evening before I'd said anything myself? What is it you've not told me Ms Barrington?

Emily put a fork of chicken and rice in her mouth, a stalling tactic, If ever there was one. She thought a short while about how to phrase her answer, before launching into a short story:

I've seen your mother on and off these last eighteen years, in town, around and about. We've always passed the time of day, kept up with news - nothing regular of course, and perhaps we've gone as much as two years without news at certain times. But I always liked your mother, she was very kind to me as a kid, and of course, we have some shared history. As I started my work, and then more recently, had Daisy, we mostly spoke about the nursery and then Daisy herself. Your mother doesn't pry, she is in no way nosy, but if you share something, she is genuinely interested and has a way of showing concern without treading on toes. When we were in our early twenties - ten years and more ago - I would ask about you and she would share your news. She is proud of your teaching career, and that you had found a wife who could share and understand that career. But she wouldn't talk about you unless I asked; she's a wonderfully reactive listener, not the generator of gossip at all.

Em paused to eat some more and to take a few sips of her wine. Then she continued:

We met whilst Christmas shopping a couple of years ago, and when I asked of you then, your mum told me that you had been separated from your wife, more or less since the death of her mother. Your mum wasn't sure how much to share at that time, I think it troubled her somewhat, but she did tell me of your then decision to stay in London to sort things out, rather than attempt to move to be nearer to your wife. I honestly think your mother predicted your return to Devon at some point, but couldn't predict how and when. I was another six or eight months later before we met again, and again we talked about your staying in London, but no mention whatsoever was made of your return. There was a little bit of me that wanted to ask for your contact details, but I just couldn't. My focus is on Daisy, please understand that.

I nodded, still intrigued as to how and when our 'random' meeting at the swimming pool had come about.

I think I know now that your mother was trying to get you to contact old friends when you came to visit at the weekends?

I nodded my admission of this fact. So Em continued.

You resisted, and whilst you did your mother couldn't bring herself to 'put us together' so to speak. I have no idea whether you ever asked after me, but that's not really the point. Your mother saw you regularly, and me less so, but after our respective relationships ended, she saw two people who were - are perhaps - a little lonely for company. My guess is that what she saw was an accurate, if not wholly complete picture.

Again, I nodded; again Em paused for some food.

You came back in August sometime, and it was another complete coincidence that I saw your mother when you were on holiday, Spain I think. I'm sorry, John, but knowing that you were back in town, I wasn't going to be able to resist getting back in touch with you, the only question in my mind was whether I should just turn up on your doorstep, phone to say hello, or find another way of meeting you. This, probably to our benefit, is where my daughter and your school work gets in the way to some extent, and we both had other priorities. But in the end, I phoned your mum when you were in school and asked whether you'd spoken about visiting the sports centre since being back. Yes, John, I suggested to your mother that you'd enjoy the adult swim.

I coughed on my rice and beer and was now smiling like a Cheshire cat!

Not that, you dirty sod, the swimming. Anyway, I was telling the truth when I said I was a regular on Friday nights - I love an hour in the pool when Daisy is with her dad - I was hoping that our meeting would be as it was, a stage-managed coincidence. I had no idea where it would go from there, it might've just been an occasional drink together after a swim, or whatever. Tonight has, already, been beyond my wildest dreams. It might yet be somewhere close to my wildest fantasies too! There: I've said my piece, are you satisfied?

I'm extremely satisfied

I replied.

We could speculate as much as we want about the 'what ifs' of getting back in touch sooner, but everything has a time and a place, I think, and your timing tonight has been perfect. Seriously so.

So how soon can I ask you to finish your curry, pay the bill and take me home?

You can ask me whenever you like

I replied again

but actually, you're the one who has been talking, and it's you that needs to eat up!

With that we settled to finish our curries and drinks, chatting about mothers mostly, and their perpetual matriarchal influence. It wasn't difficult to imagine how Em was doing a good job of being one herself, given difficult circumstances. It struck me, for the first time, I think, that perhaps Eve had never been 'quite the right sort' of wife for me - possibly not the right sort of mother for children. Ah, who knows? That was a life that was never lived.

I drained my pint and with that Em picked up her glass of wine and finished it too in one swift mouthful. Our plates weren't clear, but it was late, and we'd had enough to eat. In one sense.

Em said:

I think it's time for us to go home. Will you stay the night, please?

If that's really what you want, then yes, of course I will.

Thank you. It is what I want, more than I could say, but hopefully I'll be able to show you.

I paid the bill, and we left the restaurant, hand in hand. It was now approaching midnight, but there were no thoughts of tiredness; we had both had a little alcohol, but neither anywhere near intoxication, in fact, senses and sensitivities seemed as sharp as they needed to be. We were at Emily's flat in next to no time, and she opened the door to let us in. I'd love to tell you of my first impressions, of the flat which was at the same time perfectly clean and yet demonstrably lived in by a mother and child. I'd love to tell you about how I failed to find a glass for some water, or the light switch of the small closet toilet. But the rest of this chapter is bedroom talk; in fact, not so much talk, as we reverted to the telepathy of our swimming pool action earlier in the evening.

After ablution, we went straight to Emily's bedroom, a functional room with a double bed, lamps either side, furniture for one and a small television with in-built DVD player. The decor and bedding were lightest green, some floral pattern, but not overly feminine. The floor was wooden and bare, but deliberately so, and not a cheap or cold feel. I put my hand on the bed, which was firm to the touch; I hate climbing onto or into a bed without knowing how it might respond. But before I could take in any more of my surroundings, Emily put herself in my arms, lifted her head towards mine and, after a moment or two of looking as deeply into my eyes as she could possibly have done, our mouths met. They locked, not with aggression, but with insistent passion all the same, tongues exploring, teeth nibbling lips, bodily fluid passing between us with no questions ask and no quarter given. Emily was, literally, drinking from my mouth and asking the same of me from hers.

Em climbed onto the bed in a kneeling position, and had me stand in front of her, our heads still level with each other, the kiss broken for no time at all between changes of position. I leaned forward and lifted her sweater over her head, and followed it immediately with her t-shirt which was a tighter fit at the collar, and got stuck momentarily. Emily giggled as I leaned forward to kiss her collar bone and then the top of her left tit, exposed flesh above the plain white bra. Although we'd been naked together in the changing room earlier, the eroticism of this disrobing was on a different level entirely. Em's hands were now grabbing at my sweater, and I shifted to allow my t-shirt to be removed with it as if one garment. Once it was off, Em took me completely by surprise, suddenly clamping her mouth over

my

left nipple, but as I tensed slightly, expecting to be bitten, her quick-fast tongue flicked and teased, causing sensations I'd hardly ever experienced. By now, my cock was beginning to ache, an erection which had been on and off all evening, and with the tension of holding back the inevitable for well over two hours; I'd never endured such prolonged foreplay nor previously understood those who have insisted that the build up should be as much of the mind as of the body.

Em stood up on the bed, and mischievously removed her sports leggings whilst ensuring that her panties stayed in place; within the action of kneeling back down in front of me, she deftly removed her bra and I again clasped eyes on one of the best pair of tits I've ever seen. I fleetingly wondered how magnificent they would have been at the age of 18 - perhaps I'd missed out on a sure thing earlier in life - but take nothing at all away from what was now being offered. Neither too big nor too small of themselves, it was the proportions of the athlete's body which were just so

right.

I went to work immediately, mouth and tongue teasing from one dark-toned nipple to the other, both now fully erect and demanding. Em was moaning gently again and I was reminded of her reaction when I kissed her neck in the pool earlier.

For a second, I wondered where Em's hands had gone, I seemed to remember them having been on my head and shoulders momentarily. Glancing across at her right elbow, just below my mouth, I followed her arm just in time to see her hand slip inside the top of her panties and a finger slip into her pussy. I watched her for a minute or so then said:

give me a hand with my jeans and boxers and I'll show you what I can do with my hands and fingers.

More giggling from Em, she motioned to me to get onto the bed and lie down. I did as I was told, raised my hips as she leaned forward to grab at my waist, and my jeans and boxers were removed in one swift and experienced motion. My cock sprang up, now at full mast. Our body language in harmony, I motioned to Em to lie back so that I could remove her panties in similar fashion. She obliged, and this time, once naked, the Em opened her legs to reveal her full glory.

You are utterly beautiful

I said, because I just had to and, well, because she was. And then, ever the gentleman, I asked:

Permission to finger-fuck you?

Emily nodded.

Permission to suck your clit and lick your pussy?

Emily nodded.

Permission to sit you on my cock and fill you with my sterile cum?

To which Emily laughed and said:

If you can hold off whilst I suck you off, you can fill my cunt, but I doubt very much you'll get that far. My guess is you're leaking already. Now tickle my clit, with fingers and tongue. NOW!!

Lying on Emily's right side, I positioned myself alongside so as to both suck her right nipple and tickle her pussy simultaneously. I didn't need to see what my hand was doing - I could feel my way and Em had subtle way of adjusting her position to help me stay on the button. By this time, she was sopping wet, and so intoxicating was the aroma that it was drifting all the way up the bed. I slipped two fingers into her juicy cunt, continuing the rubbing of the clit with my thumb. Em rocked on my hand, moaning all the while, not in any loud or extrovert way, but unquestionably both appreciative and encouraging. Judging the moment, I now moved my mouth and tongue down the length of her body, across the tummy, pelvic bone and onto the soft part of the inner right thigh, quite possibly my favourite non-genital part of any female body. But don't anyone say it ain't erogenous! I didn't dare stay there long, as my attention returned to the glistening bud an inch from my face. Quick-tongued, I flicked at Em's clit and immediately tasted her pussy juice for the first time. I could do nothing but go in for more, and soon my oral exploration was full on, sucking hard on the clit and tongue delving into Emily's deepest recess. Minutes later, as the moan intensified, I heard her squeeze out a short-breathed sentence:

I - am - going - to - cum - fuck me - I'm - cumming!

With my tongue still working overtime on Em's clit, I rammed two fingers back up her in time to feel the full force of her orgasm, the heaven-sent muscle spasm flowing from deep within to all ends of the body, one of the most glorious sensations that any woman can share with another person. I have no idea how long it lasted, but eventually Em asked me to give her a breather.

It's your turn

she said

and fuck don't you deserve it!

She now pushed me onto my back and climbed onto my waist, her legs straddling my midrift, her pussy juice still dripping onto my tummy. Some women aren't too keen on the taste of their own juices, but with Em's still on my tongue and lips, she started the cycle again, kissing my mouth deeply. With her mouth still on mine, I felt a hand descend and grab my cock, and gently, expertly, start to wank me, a slow, rhythmic massage where touch and timing joined together. A nail traced itself to the top of my shaft, a fingertip testing gently for precum; I could see nothing but Em's dark brown eyes gazing into mine, smiling, teasing, offering, promising.

And then, without a word, she lowered herself and took my cock in her mouth. Emily was right - this now wasn't going to last long at all, I'd been building up for far too long to play the ever-hard, limitless-stamina of the porn star. I was ready for release and on the touch of her tongue, I near on exploded. I breathed that I wouldn't last long, and managed to say that Em should not feel obliged to take my load in her mouth, whether she wished to spit or swallow. Em looked up for a second and said

I won both races, and winner chooses the venue, loser pays for the drink.

And with that, she lowered her head back onto my cock, smiling all the time, bobbing, with a hand at its base feeling, judging the moment of my release.

I lasted no more than another 30 seconds; I came with one of the strongest, most completely mind-blowing orgasms of my entire life. It seemed to mirror the one which Emily had experienced some ten or fifteen minutes earlier, full bodied, deep, There was a sense in which we had achieved this synchronicity entirely from having allowed ourselves to be open. We had

given to each other

without condition, but already knowing that the gift was mutual and the sex was utterly

unselfish.

Two individuals, two friends, for too long on their own. Two friends previously let down by possibly more selfish partners, now upheld by the promise of something better. I couldn't bring myself to say the 'three magic words' that evening, but if this isn't what loving someone is, then I don't know what love can ever be.

Emily got up and quietly went to the en-suite bathroom, and disposed of her mouthful in the toilet basin. Spit then. She came back to the bed, and tucked herself under my arm.

If we fall asleep now, so be it, but if we're still awake in ten minutes, I'm going to take another shower, and I'd like you to join me.

The next thing I knew, I was waking to the sound of the shower, but the clock on the television said 7.21 am.