Between Old Friends

They sat in a seedy bar just off of campus. The lunch crowd had come and gone and it was too early for the post class rush. The two old friends sat at the counter sharing a pitcher of low-grade yellow beer. Neither of them really should have been there, but no one closely watched the comings and goings of an instructor and mid-level administrative staff. Like so many they could hide in plain sight. She picked at her lunch.

"So I threw him out. On my case about spending, the whole time racking up and hiding massive debt," she took a long pull from her thick glass mug, "I am done with guys. No more relationships. Just me and my kids from now on,"

He studied her. She had always been tough, all the years he had known her. Even at the tender age of 23 she had had an iron will combined with hope that sprang eternal. Now fourteen years later he worried that she had become too tough. They had been friends a long time. Sometimes they were closer, sometimes they drifted for a while. Their common bonds and history brought them back again and again it seemed.

They were both low today, a grey snowy day in February. Although he was just over forty, lines radiated from the corners of his eyes as he squinted at her in the low light. He could still see the feisty girl she had been. Rich dark hair still flowed back from her determined face. Even her invective could not hide the fullness of her lips or the flash of her fierce deep brown eyes. His mind wandered to early days when she wanted to drag him out running or cycling or long-boarding. He had chuckled at her enthusiasm then, but it had been infectious. Even though he was not young he had eventually taken her advice and changed his sports from adventure to endurance. Perhaps he couldn't recognize his own face anymore, but he was as lean and hard as ever under his slightly worn button down dress shirt.

His mind wandered to energetic meetings at lively venues in hot summer evenings years ago. Her full, frosted pink lips wrapped fetchingly around the straw in her latest cocktail as her eyes sparked mischievously. She had quickly blossomed into knowing just what affect it had on him.

He smiled ruefully. Time and tide had caught them both it seemed.

"Speaking of which, I should not be sitting here spending money I don't have," she murmured into her glass. He turned from her back to his own glass and waved the bartender over. As melancholy as he felt he was not ready to head back to his cramped office or his dark home.

"Don't worry about it, Gus," his nickname for her, derived from her maiden name, "Don't you remember? I am rich,"

That was not strictly true, but he had been careful. He had always had decent jobs, and generally lived well below his means. His relative security had become something of a joke between them.

"Ppfft. There must be some way for me to get a hold of some of that extra money of yours," she took a long pull on her glass.

"No big deal, G. I got you," he really didn't mind, and he enjoyed her company. Better by far than going home.

"You could have had me, you know," her voice had a familiar edge to it. They had already circled back to the old debate. He sighed. She was right. She would have been his, if he had gone for it. If he hadn't been stuck back then, just as he was now, in unhappy bonds that he didn't have it in him to break she would have been... What? His wife? Maybe. Or maybe they would be drinking with two different people, hiding from each other, instead of hiding with each other.

"Gus..." he started. He could see tears forming around the bottom of red rimmed eyes. She must have been on edge, he reasoned. It had been a long time since she had been so emotional in front of him. Her heart was no longer reserved for him, after all.

She wiped her eyes and shooed a worried waitress from them, "It's fine, D, I am just being silly," it was his cue to let it drop. He ordered a round of her favorite, which he knew came with a small cocktail straw.

"Is that so?" he asked their old leading question.

'It's troooo..." she said, pursing her soft lips into the perfect shape for kissing, the same question and answer they had played out hundreds of times over the years. They fell back into easier discussion as they sipped away.

***

"You shouldn't have paid for it all," she was a little wobbly on her feet as they headed away from the pub. The students had begun filing in and being loud. And the last thing either wanted was too close of association with their charges!

"I was glad to do it, Gus,"

"I shouldn't drive," she murmured. She was notorious for her impractical footwear during the cold months, and he had her draped inside his long dark wool coat. She nuzzled close to him, "You smell beautiful. Like soap and beer. You never change," he wished that were true.

"I will get you a cab," he replied.

"I'm broke, I can walk," she said bravely.

"I won't let you," he left his coat draped on her and stepped into the snow filled street, hand thrust out to get the attention of a passing taxi. It pulled over and he got the door. "My lady,"

She hesitated for a moment, "Come with me? Let me... Let me pay you back a little?"

It was his turn to hesitate. What did she mean exactly? "Just get in," she tugged at him, "see me to my door, like old times," he allowed himself to be pulled in, figuring he would get her home and use the walk back to campus to clear his head.

Her old house was dark and cold when they pulled up. In an older part of town it was filled with character and promise, just like she herself.

He paid the taxi and followed her to the door, thinking to take his leave now that she was home safe. She fumbled with the key and eventually shouldered the wedged door open. The aging foundation had made its seasonal shift.

"Come in and at least let me get you a tea," she insisted. Tea was another thing she had introduced him to, as reluctant as he had been all those years ago. He allowed himself to be ushered inside the little home. There were small boots and coats littering the entrance.

"The girls are with their father," she replied to his arched eyebrow. "Why is it so cold in here? Don't tell me the furnace quit! That's the last thing I need!"

"Let me take a look," he said gesturing her to lead him into the basement. His hand dipped into his pocket where he had a small powerful pen light. It threw a bright beam of light on the half framed walls in front of cold stone foundation.

"How long have you had that light?" she asked, smirking at him.

"This exact one? Ten years I think. But I had the same model before that," he flipped the electrical switch for the furnace and fished at his belt for his multi-tool to remove covers from the furnace.

"And those plier-thingies? How long?"

"This one, must be nearly twenty years I guess?" he tugged a screwdriver bit out and began his work.

"Still coming to my rescue, you still carry the same shit everywhere. You never change," she mussed his hair affectionately as he worked. It was nearly entirely iron grey already. That certainly had changed from the blue-black of their early days.

"I think it is probably the flame sensor," he muttered around the flashlight in his teeth, "It's carboned up. Should be running in no time"

"Sure thing, Mr. Engineering. I will get some tea going," her fingers grazed his neck for a slow second, sending shivers that had nothing to do with the cold.

He glanced over to watch her climb the stairs, studying her legs in a way that he knew he really did not have a right to. He marveled, after all these years she still had an effect on him.

A few light strokes with a fine file and the sensor was cleaned and back into the furnace. He relit the pilot light from his pocket lighter. She had always teased him for that lighter.

"Why do you carry that? You don't smoke!"

His father's words from his mouth, "You never know when you are going to need it,"

The panels went back on as he listened to the floorboards creak above him. She moved all through the small main level of the house. He hit the electrical switch and listened as the furnace fired to life!

"Yaaaaay!" he heard from upstairs.

***

He sat on her couch as she finished with the tea in the kitchen. She came in with a tray and two steaming mugs. He sniffed. Not tea, but hot cider!

"From my apple tree in the back," she handed him a mug. It was spicy and fragrant, and was that brandy he smelled?

Gratefully he sipped at the warm drink. She stood near him and he was quite surprised when she dropped into his lap, nearly upsetting his mug!

She snuggled close to him. This was closer than they had been in years, and certainly closer than anyone had been to him in months. A lump formed in his throat. He had blocked this kind of intimacy from his mind for so long.

"Gus," he stammered.

She pressed her full lips together the way she used to tease him, "Shhhh," she moved slowly in and placed her so soft pliant lips on his. He moaned like a wounded animal behind the kiss, eyes pressed tightly shut against a sudden stinging sensation.

How long did they sit there kissing softly like old times? She had taken the mug from his nerveless fingers and pressed his hands to her bottom, resting sweetly in his lap.

Suddenly she popped up from him, her face set with determination, she held out her hand, "Come on,"

He stared at her dumbly, completely overwhelmed. She looked at him for a moment and popped the button at the top of her pants and dashed the zipper down.

"Come on, I said I wanted to pay you back," she shimmied out of her tight pants, revealing lovely, silky panties.

He still sat, eyes bulging, "You... you don't owe me anyth-" he broke off as the panties hit him in the face!

She turned on the spot flourishing her fine runner's ass that she knew he had never been able to resist, and threw over her shoulder, "Come on D. Let me help you," she started off down the hallway.

He stood up slowly, heart pounding and legs shaking. "But no crying allowed," her muffled voice came from her bedroom.

It hit him like a hammer's blow. For so long he had put passion and intimacy into a box where it couldn't be used to hurt him. How could she know how on edge he was? How could she know that the simple act of kissing him had awakened something inside that he had thought long dead? He fingered the pretty little panties, luxuriating in their smoothness. Then he felt the dampness. Gus wasn't playing with him, she wanted this too, he realized.

As if on autopilot his legs moved him to her bedroom. A bare bulb illuminated the room, which looked much as it had in her countless apartments and homes he had helped her move to and from over the years. Her bed was there with the large iron head board that she had tied him to once. The giant fluffy comforter, brilliant white, covered it, as always. A basket of clean laundry sat to one side.

"Who never changes?" he asked himself as he scanned familiar furnishings, perfume bottles and cosmetics arrayed across the room.

He was caught off guard when he felt her attack his belt.

"This damn belt still!" she exclaimed as she wrestled with his two part ranger belt. She had it open in no time, not like the first time she had tried so many years ago.

Roughly she dragged his pants down and dodged to the side just in time as his hard member sprang free. He noticed that his own underwear were slick. Damn, he was supposed to make her wet, not the other way around!

His pants bunched around his knees made it easy for her to push him back onto the bed. He was immediately buried in the thick soft comforter. How did she keep it so white, he wondered.

He looked down as she grabbed his upright cock steadying it from swinging back and forth. She gave it some slow experimental strokes, putting him into heaven.

"Hi there old friend," she whispered to it, "I've missed you. Much bigger than I've had for some time,"

He knew he had nothing to be ashamed of, but he knew he was not a monster for size.

"It's not... " he started to self deprecate, but she cut him off.

"It's trooo..." she sang sweetly, pressing her lips in the way that drove him mad, before kissing the head of his penis and slowly lowering until he filled her mouth. All protest was swallowed in his low guttural moan.

How many times had he thought about those lips? Certainly when they were being friends and not lovers, which was most of their years over all, he had had impure thoughts about those lips. Now they were wrapped around him just as they had been in his dreams. Dreams he would wake up from sticky and frustrated.

She worked up and down his length, her tongue whipping the sensitive underside of his cock. His mind cast back to early days. He had been only her second lover at the time. She had been excited and energetic, but timid and uncertain. Now the tables had turned and she was by far the one in control! She had certainly learned a few things in the years since, he noted, feeling the months of neglect swelling up inside his body.

His breathing was ragged as he gasped, "Gus! I'm going to..."

He was only a little disappointed when she pulled her mouth off of him and began stroking. He was slick with her saliva and her hands were so soft and skilled as she slid up and down his length, her thumb slipping over his crown at the top of the stroke.

His cry keened higher and higher as she brought him to his explosion! He fired blast after blast of thick white high up into the air. It came down on her hand and arm, down onto his belly as she cheered.

She kept up gentle stroking as the bursts slowed to dribbles, and stopped perfectly, just before he became too sensitive. Another thing she had mastered since her youth! What had been an awkward discussion then had turned into perfection now.

He lay back on her bed, fists clenched, shivering. He was not cold, however, despite the rapidly cooling ejaculate on his groin and stomach. She firmly prised open his hands, knowing that he would not be able to open them naturally for some time on his own, due to the intensity of his reaction. His breathing returned to normal as she wiped his body with her discarded panties. His eyes cracked open at the feel of the smooth cloth, and he shivered at the eroticism of the pretty material coated in his seed.

He was shocked out of his reverie when she pounced onto the bed beside him to give him a big full kiss on his mouth. It was somehow extra exiting for him to be kissed by her knowing he had just been in that mouth.

"Now that you are temporarily disarmed," she said, eyes sparkling mischievously above him. She launched herself back onto the bed legs spread. "How about you come up here and Eat. My. Pussy," Another thing she could never have been so brazen about once upon a time. He loved it, and quickly crawled up between her legs.

He stopped to study her pussy. She was cleanly shaven underneath and to the sides, with a thick tuft above her clitoris, which was certainly making its presence known. Her olive skin was darker still all around her large womanly labia. Thick white cream glistened near her opening, and he moaned to see it. Fiercely he kissed her inner thighs where the muscles met her groin. He inhaled he scent. Her strong arousal was intoxicating as he moved from left to right, skipping over her open petals. He paused only to nudge her clit with his nose, teasing all around her need.

Finally she grasped his head pulling him into her pussy. "Fucking eat meeeee," she crooned.

Happily he obliged. He pointed his tongue and dipped directly into her taking up a skim of her juices with which he proceeded to paint her outer lips. Again and again he returned for some nectar and spread it up and down her vagina, carefully avoiding her clit. Very occasionally he would swipe at the hard button, making her squeal.

"Do the thing," she told him through sighs and moans. He remembered immediately, the first time that he had put his fingers in her when he first introduced her to cunnilingus. A failed conservative Christian marriage had not prepared her for when his long fingers had curled up inside her and slid across the walnut sided bump inside her! She had thrashed and writhed with her first G-spot orgasm, and it left her shaking and breathless.

He sucked his index finger into his mouth and pulled it out slick with saliva. He eased it into her and gently took her clitoris into his mouth. She shivered as his tongue lightly danced around the sensitive little nub. His finger moved in time inside her. Sometimes he pressed against her floor, bumping her g-spot with his middle knuckle. Sometimes he rolled his finger up and swirled softly over the small ridge inside of her. Over time the combination was devastating! Her hips rocked and writhed and he had to boost himself onto his elbows and move with her so he could maintain gentle suction on her clit. As he did so he felt his newly rejuvenated hardness pressing under him into the soft down. He felt bad, knowing he was leaking again, into her beautiful bedding. It just could not be helped, unfortunately.

She moaned encouragement as he worked, her head whipping from side to side, "Mmm, right there! Keep going, keep going keepgoing..."

Her thighs clamped down around his ears and the fist-full of hair in her grasp made it all but impossible to breathe as she bucked into his mouth for the long moments of her climax. Eventually her hips fell open and her hands turned gentle as she tugged on his head.

"Come up, come up here," she urged breathlessly. He kissed her soaked pussy one last time and crawled up above her. He could feel that his face was slick with her from his eyebrows to his chin. He felt anointed.

He gazed down at his friend. Her eyes were dreamy as she looked up at him. She pulled him in for a kiss and licked his lips and face, tasting her own juices. She had alluded to dalliances with women over the years, but had never fessed up any details. Now he was extra curious!

As they kissed her hand slid down and grasped his hardness that dangled between them. She rubbed his swollen head up and down the sweet mess of her pussy, coating him in her juices and his saliva.

"Gus," he warned, "I don't carry condoms anymore," another memory of temporary fright when they discovered her latex allergy came to his mind. He had stocked a quality alternative back in the day.

"We will worry about it next time," she whispered and his heart leapt. Next time!

Caution went absolutely to the wind as he pressed into her. He savored that moment. Perhaps the sweetest moment in any man's life is when he first slides in to a warm, willing vagina, he thought. He tried to memorize everything. The stark light of the room, the heavy sexual scent in the air, how she had sucked her lips into her mouth and was nodding encouragement as he plunged down, down and down.

At last he was deeply inside of her. He took stock. One of his legs had kicked free of his pants, the garment was twisted around his other calf. He clumsily pulled at his top buttons until she took pity and undid them for him. He reached back and clawed his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side. Then he dragged at her shirt which she had not removed in their haste. She rolled it up and he was grateful to see a front clasp on her bra. He was desperate to feel every inch of her skin against every inch of his, after so long a wait.

Her bra was pulled to either side and her breasts were freed. Nursing two children had not made them any less attractive. Lucky babies, he thought as he swooped down to take a thick, hard nipple into his mouth. He wanted to spend some real time with her breasts, now that they were bigger than when she was 23. And now that she would no doubt be less shy about them. It hadn't mattered much at the time, since he was always an ass man, but the prospect of exploring exited him. She had said 'Next time!'