Lost Time

"Ten Years Gone" was playing over and over again in my mind. The song was not an exact fit to my life, but it's mysterious knack for being on the radio following any encounter with Chris gave it a special new meaning for me. I dug out my old "Physical Grafitti" album and started to play it whenever I thought of Chris, which was often.

Since our impromptu phone sex session, conversations between Chris and me had tamed down considerably. We looked forward to one another's calls and emails, making sure to be home for them. We talked for hours about everything under the sun. Everything other than where this was going.

It was plain that this thing had gone beyond simple lust and a single encounter in a car. It was no secret that there was a connection there that could not be easily ignored. There was more, however, that could not be ignored, and it was not as pretty.

Chris had a life in California. He was bartending at one of the trendiest Long Beach nightspots and taking classes at Cal State Fullerton during the day. His entire family lived in California, as did all his friends.

I had only parents in California. In fact, we had moved there when I was starting high school, and I moved back home to Louisiana after graduation when LSU accepted me. I had a cush teaching job here, and I felt at peace among the moss hung trees and bayous, more than I ever had in the hustle and bustle of California.

While it had not come up, I sensed that it would one day, and I questioned the willingness on either of our parts to move closer to one another. My affection for Chris was growing, and I was sure that this feeling was mutual, but the spectre of that make or break decision had begun to plague me.

We spoke until late in the night on one particular Saturday, and the closest we had come to addressing distance and attachment was his plan to visit me in about a month's time. Something in his voice as he told me he could not wait to see me again seemed almost pained. Though I could not be sure where that tone came from, and I did not ask, for some things are best discussed in person, by the time we hung up, I felt restless and worried.

I wanted to just go to bed to keep from thinking, but sleep proved elusive, so I found myself at the drug store in my flannel pajamas, buying a box of Sominex. Though I generally avoid such things, it seemed the only way to get any rest on this night.

Luckily the pills worked, but the dream that followed during that deep sleep did little for my worried desires once I woke up.

In the dream, I was in bed, on my stomach and naked. The Led Zeppelin song was playing somewhere from the other room, just loud enough to be audible. Only the full moon streaming through the window served to illuminate, and I dreamt that I was simply thinking of Chris.

It was then that I felt the fingers slide along my wet folds, and up between my cheeks, teasing around my little opening. Wet, circling, and gently pressing against it, a single finger wormed its way into my ass, beginning a slow fuck that had my hips rolling up against each thrust. "Chris... you're here," I murmured through a smile and a sucking in of my breath.

"Of course I am," he breathed, his voice sweet and his tone carrying a smile I could not see. He pushed another finger into my asshole, and I moaned, the moan interrupted by a gasp as he began, with the other hand, to gently rub along the length of my pussy, stopping at my engorged clit. He rubbed it in time with the slowly quickening strokes that moved in and out of my ass. "I want you so badly, it hurts..." his voice trailed off as he continued his quiet pleasuring.

I shivered, my hips moving in perfect rhythm with his fingers. "But do you need me?" I asked through a whimper. "Do you need me, Chris?"

His fingers left me abruptly, and I nearly cried from the cut off of physical pleasure, and the silence that met my question. Then, his hands were on either cheek, spreading them apart, and I felt the head of his cock press in between.

"Yeah," came the whisper. "I need you more than you can know." He pressed forward, his thick head painful as it slipped past the tight opening. I cried out, but pushed back, letting him fill my ass completely. He squeezed my ass cheeks around his cock, a low growl in his throat as he took me slowly.

I was up on my knees and elbows at this point, his cock deep in my ass, pressing against the tight walls and thrusting more forcefully with each push in. He slid almost all the way out each time, whispering how good my ass felt around him, how he wanted to fill it with his come.

One hand moved from my ass, sliding around my front to find my clit. He rolled his fingers around and on it, the delicious sensations driving all coherent thought from my mind. I wanted it harder. I wanted it faster. As he pulled out almost completely, I slammed my hips back, making us both cry out. He moved faster, cock slamming to the hilt with no restraint now, the initial pain replaced by animalistic want.

His fingers moved almost violently on my clit, my pussy so wet that my thighs felt damp. He drove his cock into my ass harder, faster, the sensation somewhere between perfect and painful. I felt the orgasm build and explode within moments, and as it came, I screamed, melting into it, the slap of his balls against my pussy seeming only to extend the pleasaure beyond what I had always thought normal. I must have said a million things at that moment- I told him that I loved him, I loved his cock, his fingers, and that he made me feel so dirty. Yet, all I remember as the orgasm subsided and I quivered helplessly, was, "Let me feel that come in my ass. Come for me, Chris, come for me..." and I trailed off into a repetition of those words, falling into a harsh and breathless whispering.

"Tell me it's mine," he said through his gasps, slapping my ass with his free hand.

"Yours. All yours - my ass, my pussy, everything!" I cried out, hips thrusting back roughly.

"Always mine."

"For as long as you want it," I trembled.

His hands were on my hips now, gripping them tightly and ramming me back against him. He tensed sharply in my ass, and as he began to say something, the words were lost in a shaky, helpless moan, and I felt the hot spurt of come deep inside as his cock throbbed with the release. "I love you..." he whispered.

I sat up in bed with a start, for a moment tingling more from his final words to me than from the vivid dream. Upon the realization that it had only been a dream, despite the wetness drying between my legs, I could not help but weep.

Something had to give. I needed to make Chris mine for good or let him go for good, and through the tears, I concluded that it would be best to wait until he visited before I came to that decision.