I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it, I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, she was beautiful, and as I felt myself slowly slip into her soft and wet forbidden'ness, I felt my eyes close and my world explode in giant bursts of white light.
But I'm jumping ahead:
It didn't matter where I was or what I was doing, it didn't even matter that it had been over for nearly 5 months. I came to understand that I didn't love her in the same way I did, but that didn't stop me from fantasizing about her regularly. I considered many times that the reason it was so exciting and, I guess, erotic for me was because of how naughty it was, to want to make love to the woman that I had always made love to, but now couldn't.
At first the experience shocked me; I began to look through materials on the web, trying to understand why I couldn't shake this sexual desire from my previous partner. Was it 'grass is greener'? Was I some kind of pervert? The number of articles that warned me away from divulging in such risky acts also gave me cause for concern, but eventually I understood it. It was so simple I found myself hitting my forehead. It wasn't just that I found her body to be the most exquisite and delicate looking object in the world, or the way her soul-penetrating eyes would look deep down into me, but it was the way she would kiss me, the way her tongue would caress my mouth and tease me with slow and gentle licks. It was the way she would move my hand down to her bottom, her eyes fixed on me, her mouth hanging slightly open in anticipation for me to touch where she wanted me to touch. It was the way that her hugs could turn me on, in the way she pushed her body against me and I could feel her curves pressing against me.
So before long, I began to just accept that we were never going to be together but I would always have fond memories of her and the adventures we had, and of course, the times we spent in bed together (or sometimes out!).
Despite the end of our relationship we had tried to remain friends, dropping each other the odd text message every now and again, checking each other was ok, that sort of thing. But one day, unexpectedly, she wrote me a message asking if I wanted to come to a party around hers with a few of her mates, not for a particular occasion, just an opportunity for people to get a bit merry and catch up, etc. A few times before the actual party I found myself trying to convince myself not to go, that I should really stay away otherwise it may bring old sparks back, but my party spirit got the better of me in the end I decided to go.
I went bearing all types of spirits and alcohol, taken from my cupboard at home which had collected many different types. I was swept away in the atmosphere and began to really enjoy myself, forgetting any past issues and enjoying everyone's company. Plus I wasn't complaining about the ratio of women to blokes either, which meant I was getting the odd hug and cheeky peck here and there. By about 2 o'clock, people were starting to shift off home and it wasn't long before it was just me and her, left on the sofa, drinking the most recent cocktail I had concocted out of the dregs left at the end of party. I'd forgotten how much I loved to make her laugh and for the first time in a long while, I wasn't holding on to any bitter memories over the breakup, but instead just appreciating the good moments. I was suddenly completely at peace with myself and the world. She looked great and she looked happy and I was reminded of how important it was to me that she was happy, and still, at that moment, I felt similar, that I just wanted her to be happy. The only issue I was having however, was that the alcohol was allowing my sub-consciousness to think for itself and as a result I keep being mesmerised by her lips and feeling the urge to move in to kiss her constantly.
"I've missed talking to you," she said. It took me a while to recover from the butterfly's in my stomach, knowing that she appreciated this as much as I did.
"I've missed it too, I've had a really good night, thank you." I beamed at her.
She moved closer to me and put her arms around me, she gave lovely hugs and this one was no exception.
"I can't," she began to say. "I can't really get to you, hang on," she flicked her leg over my legs and before I knew it she was on top of me. I wrapped my arms around her hard and she did the same. Call me slow, call me a drunken plonker, but it took me a few moments to register that her crouch was sitting directly on top of mine. For a moment I panicked that I might get aroused, but I quickly focused on something mundane and boring to stop myself from showing any potential signs of excitement. We just stayed there for a few moments, and it was actually really, really good, just warm big hugs.
I made to give her one last tight squeeze to almost initiate the end of the hug, when I heard a noise come from her mouth. It was a noise I hadn't hear for a long time, a blissful noise, a horney noise, a small moan. Now the problem was that her mouth was directly next to me ear and one thing that always drove me crazy was when she would whisper in my ear, her warm moist breath tickling my sensations. I couldn't help it, I squeezed her again, this time her moan was slightly louder.
