A continuation of the story that started yesterday. Here’s the ending of that erotic story. Please know that this story is meant for mature readers 18 years and older, as it contains explicit descriptions of sex between consenting adults. It’s about a woman (Juliet) and a guy (Simon) who used to date, and may get back together.
* * * * *
Returning, Part 2
They quickly drained their wine glasses and paid up and hailed a taxi on the busy city street and whisked (not nearly fast enough) to his apartment building. Like the taxi, the elevator wasn’t fast enough. But it did allow them privacy, and they took that opportunity and kissed passionately. Down the hallway, they kissed, groping at each other and unbuckling and unbuttoning. Simon had a very difficult time fishing his keys from his pocket. Juliet’s hands down his pants didn’t help.
Inside his apartment, door slammed behind them, they were finally—gratefully—in full privacy. Well, except for the neighbors on either side of the apartment who were about to get an earful. Juliet and Simon kissed and kissed, hands busily clearing off the other’s clothes.
Juliet, with her lips nearly touching his neck, said, “You first. I don’t want you getting blue balls or anything.”
He nodded. He watched her descend to her knees. Take him in her mouth.
“I missed you,” he breathed out.
Her head backed up as she released him. “I missed you, too. But now I’m back. Enjoy.”
He most certainly enjoyed it. He loved her mouth on him. The wondrous feeling of the wet warmth sliding on his shaft. Her bobbing head. Her hand gripping him, jerking him. It was over much too soon as his come spurted into her mouth. Even though it was a shorter than he hoped blowjob, he trembled, weak-kneed at the ecstasy coursing through him. She kept him in her mouth until he stopped coming and softened.
Then she moved back, letting his cock slip out of her mouth, and she stood up and said, “Sorry that was so quick. I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
Simon blinked at her. “You’re not going to the bathroom to spit? You never swallowed before.”
Smiling, Juliet shrugged. “Maybe I want to impress you.”
“I am impressed. But did you rush because you want to get right to me going down on you?”
Her guilty cat grin returned. “Can you blame a girl?”
He had to laugh. Which was music to her ears—just like his moans when she sucked him had been. Those moans and that laughter came as a relief to her. This was working out.
“Besides,” she said. “There’s plenty more where that come from. Like I said, you’re not going to regret this. Not one little bit.”
“Then you better get the fuck on my bed.”
The intensity in his eyes and him leaning forward, arms out as if to clutch her, made her squeal and turn and race from the living room, past the small kitchen, and into the apartment’s only bedroom. She fell on the bed right before he jumped on it, landing next to her. He rolled on top of her, kissing her lips again, sucking her breasts that eagerly welcomed his mouth, and then he headed lower and lower, until his lips kissed her pussy.
It was good to have her back. It felt right. Simon wasn’t kidding about saying he missed her. And not just for sucking his dick. Hardly. Her absence had left a hole in the apartment. All those times they’d made love and slept in this bed. All those times they’d eaten together in this apartment: long breakfasts on weekend mornings, dinners with long conversations or while watching a movie on the television. All those talks. Those laughs together. Laughing like crazy after coming home from a bar, where they had spent several hours drinking with friends and having a grand time. Then retreating to his apartment or hers, whichever one was closer. When it was this apartment, they’d enter the place and laugh some more and drink more wine. Or sometimes, they’d enter it as they just had, with hands and lips all over each other. Often not making it to the bedroom, but staying in the living room, with her riding him on the couch—or her bent over and resting her elbows on the couch and him drilling her from behind.
How easily they had slipped back into these kinds of events, with grappling at each other when they burst into the familiar room. And when Juliet rushed toward the bedroom.
And that squeal. Oh my God, her squeal. It was tremendous. Of course, the blowjob was mighty fine, too. But her squeal spoke of excitement and feeling right at home. It was ground shaking to him.
Yet, a thought sneaked into his brain: What if this was a one-time thing? What if she merely wanted to get her rocks off this once, and then she was done with him? Would he endure the same heartache as before? He couldn’t go further down that road of thinking. There was simply no way of knowing that until this was all over. Until she had her fill, and then he could find out what she did after that. Yes, she had left him once before, and she could do it again. But that had been after a long, hurtful argument. Most certainly not after she’d had an orgasm.
People change. Simon felt that he had changed, in how he spoke his mind to her in the restaurant. That had surprised her, and she had seemed to like it. So, yes, people can change. Juliet could have changed her mind. Maybe after her own heart-break, she had changed her mind and thought that maybe they could work out after all.
A guy could hope. And in that hope, do a damn good job of eating pussy.
Meanwhile, Juliet thought about how amazing it felt. She had come to the right place for this. Simon didn’t continually mix up motions with his tongue like other guys did. They were frustratingly slap-dash about it. By comparison, Simon was an artist. He took his time about it. He enjoyed it. There was no rush about it. Not like other guys had done with her.
Not like she had rushed with Simon just after they arrived in his apartment. She felt a pang of guilt for that. But she had her reason, and she reminded herself of that. She didn’t want to make him wait in misery. Let him have his cookie before she got hers. The lingering salty taste of his semen blended with the excitement of him licking her vagina. It was good to get him off before her. Especially to surprise him by swallowing his come. Let him know she wasn’t kidding around about wanting him.
She did want him.
She had realized that at the restaurant. It wasn’t simply his oral skills—which were prodigious and were currently living up to her memories of them. No, it was more than that. She had forgotten about the unselfishness about him. Sure, he had annoyed the hell out of her sometimes when they had been dating. But he also excited her. He had been passive much of the time, but when it came to the bedroom, that passivity turned into immense passion. Not a crazy sprint of passion, but an endurance to go far and long and deep into the night.
But had his passivity changed? His backbone at the restaurant had surprised her. She had not expected that, from her memories of him, those tick-marks on the list that she mentally went down when she remembered why they had broken up.
His backbone had excited her. It had knocked her back a bit, but when she looked in his brown eyes at the restaurant and saw the conviction behind them, she had quivered.
Now, mixed in with that excitement was comfort. She felt comfort being back on his bed and back in his apartment. It was a comfortable, easy place to be. Which was most welcome after being heartbroken by Ben. Being back in Simon’s apartment was like a soothing syrup that made her feel better right away. Not just his mouth—but that was indeed a big, delicious part. No, there was more than that. A relaxation that she had forgotten. A comfort and ease that she had taken for granted and didn’t fully remember until being back again.
She took her breasts in her hands, loving them, and exhaled slowly for a long time. She felt like she was melting into the bed. The relaxation and rapture took her. This was not merely an expertly-delivered cunnilingus, this was also a brain massage and a weight off her chest. Maybe that was momentary, but she didn’t care right then if this great exhalation was going to last for a long time. It needed to be appreciated for how it felt now. For it was a fantastic letting out of pent-up hurt and anger and disappointment and loneliness. All replaced by bliss.
Yep, this felt fucking good.
Simon’s tongue lapped at her in circles around her slit, sliding up her labia on one side, and then down the other side. Circling in orbits like a planet around the sun. The tip of his tongue twirling her clitoris as the orbit reached there. He kissed her inner thighs, that soft, sensitive skin. He slipped a finger inside of her and hooked it, leisurely exploring the unseen depths of her. No quick finger-fuck like other guys had done. No, Simon was there for a long journey. His tongue traveled all around her, sliding in moist paths that made her glow.
His puckered lips kissed her clitoris and gently sucked. She moaned and moaned, her fingers busy feeling her own nipples, pinching them, marveling how firm they were. These hard, excited nipples ached to be touched more and more, and she answered them. But still wanting more.
“My nipples,” she whispered. “Please. My nipples.”
He immediately answered her invitation, climbing up the bed and taking a nipple into his mouth and giving it the wet attention it craved. Her fingers were good, yes. But they were no match for his lips that made for spectacular kissing and pussy eating and boob sucking. She moaned more as he feasted upon her breasts, and he moved back and forth to ensure both breasts equally received him.
And then he returned down below. Not zeroing in on her clit, but again making glowing orbits with his tongue. His finger again inside her, exploring. No, this gentleman did not want to get it over in a jiffy. He again set off in this indulgent journey.
She, in turn, groaned a groan that lasted for a long time and melted again. She lost track of time, and of caring for anything else in the outside world. For here, in his apartment, was comfort and ease and relaxation. For here, on his bed, was rapture.
The tip of his tongue danced with her clitoris. It reminded her of those times when she had flicked the tip of her tongue on the sensitive underside of Ben’s dickhead. No, no, she thought. Not Ben. Simon. I had also done that with Simon. Before I even met Ben. And I’m going to do it to Simon again. She had not done this to him when they burst into his apartment, but there was going to be plenty of time for that. Yes, she thought. Plenty of time for that later.
His tongue and her clitoris danced and danced. Flicking, twirling, playful and romantic and sensational. It was hard for Juliet to put any thoughts together—of plans of what to do to Simon or otherwise. So she let go of those thoughts, like letting go of a bunch of balloons and watching them float away. But she was also floating off. As if the balloons were somehow weighing her down, not the other way around. The air in the sky was bright and clear and delicious in her chest.
When her orgasm arrived like a flower of fireworks exploding, she stared at the fiery colors and sparks with awe. It was breath-taking, this immense feeling. Breath-taking and heart-stopping and body-freezing. It lasted, seemingly, for an hour. Or maybe for a day. She didn’t know. She didn’t care. For when ecstasy like this arrived, it needed only to be felt and not questioned.
When, finally, the firework flower softly, slowly, dissipated, she realized that her body was quivering. Was she shaking the whole time? Perhaps. Her whole body felt warm in a pink flush. Like after being immersed in a hot tub, and then departing and having the residual heat still warming her skin.
She propped herself up on her elbows. Looking down at his face between her legs. His soft, intense brown eyes looking back at her. His cute, longer hair messed up. His small smile. The comfort of him.
“Oh my God,” she said softly. “I missed you, too. I really fucking missed you.”
* END *
Hope you enjoyed the story. Thanks for reading!