Valerie's Return

I hadn't seen Valerie in two years, not since she'd walked through my door and into the night. But there she was, unmistakable Valerie in her teasing schoolgirl outfit standing in the popcorn line at the movie theater, holding hands with some guy in tan Dockers and a Redskins baseball cap. I got in line behind them.

"The movie's going to start soon," he said "I'll go get us some seats," he said.

"I'll be right there," she told him.

They kissed, a passionless kiss of compunction and he walked away, hands in pockets, boat shoes, no socks.

It was a Wednesday night, the theater was virtually empty. There were five people in line in front of her, one dull, bored ponderous individual lugubriously filling tub sized Coke's and mountainous vats of popcorn. Everyone looked bored.

I reached around and clamped a hand over Valerie's mouth, at the same time; I grabbed a deep fist full of hair with the other and pulled hard to let her know I meant business. She put her hands up on my arm in surprise and confusion. She made the slightest gasp of shock, but through my hand there was virtually no sound. I lead her backwards, quickly, into the men's room and pushed her into a stall, hard up against the tile wall.

I let go of her hair, instead pinning her against the wall with my weight.

"Valerie," I said. Her eyes turned back, trying to see who I was. Perhaps she recognized my voice? All this time not seeing her, and now ... everything was rushing back to me, all those memories.

My hand went under her skirt, swiftly finding her cotton panties, running my fingers across them, finding top, digging into the elastic and tearing at them, pulling them down over her smooth, perfect ass. She moaned into my palm, cupped over her mouth. My hand found its way between her legs, she was already wet, my own rigid cock pressed up against her ass, there was no one like her who could do this to me.

I tugged at my zipper, freeing myself, holding my cock up against her and then suddenly, plunging into her with force. She cried out into my hand, muffled, a mixture of pain and pleasure and uncertainty. I drove up into her, each time lifting her onto her toes with my thrusts, her hands were placed by her shoulders, pushing away from the wall, fingers splayed, her long black hair fell into my mouth and I bit down and pulled, feeling her yelp into my palm.

With my right hand, I felt along the lines of her ass, so perfect in its contours. Reaching around, I tangled my fingers into her hair, gripped her sex and pulled her back to meet my thrusts.

I bit the skin on her neck, her shoulder. Her eyes rolled back into her head. My hand went under her shirt, feeling the smooth skin of her sides, around, caressing her flat stomach, then down, across the fabric of her shirt skirt, cupping her again, and pressing her against me, the shape of her ass fitting into my pelvis like a missing puzzle piece. I pumped and drove into her like a machine. Each thrust feeling like paradise, warm and perfect.

Soon I felt the orgasm welling up inside me, powerfully collecting in my pelvis, ready to burst inside her. But that wasn't what I wanted. Now I pulled out, grabbed her hair with both hands and shoved her to the ground, her hands flew to mine, gripping my hands in hers, seeking the source of the pain. Her face grimaced with agony, she gasped.

"On your knees!" I commanded. She fell awkwardly but obediently to her knees in the stall. With a shock of her jet black hair held tightly in my left hand, maneuvering her face into position, I stroked my cock until months of pent-up cum blasted across her face. The orgasm continued, its streams of hot and white dashing lines across her beautiful face, lips, eyes, cheeks. My cock throbbed in my hand, pulsed, subsided. I held it there for some time, marveling at her beauty, at how much I had missed her.

Breathing hard, I released her hair and she collapsed backwards against the wall of the stall, her arm falling across the toilet seat, her breaths coming in heaves.

"I'll be in the parking lot," I said, "meet me in my car in ten minutes. Go directly there."

I adjusted my clothes and pushed, dizzy, from the stall. Washing my hands in the sink and pausing to look at my face in the mirror. I dried my hands and left the bathroom. The popcorn clerk was absorbed in a comic book and the lobby was empty. I could hear the sounds of the movie, blunt and echoing behind me. I walked out the door and into the cool night air.

I opened the driver's door and sat down in my car, unlocking the passengers side door. Not even sure if she would come out. I watched the clock tick, leaned back and stared up at the roof of my car. Ten minutes passed. Twelve. Fifteen. I was a fool to wait any longer, but then I heard the scuff of shoes on pavement, I adjusted the rear view mirror and could see a miniskirt, bare leg, white knee socks. She was carrying her panties, balled up in one hand.

She got in the car looking straight ahead.

"You're late," I told her.

She looked over. "Punish me," she said.