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I got a better offer from a guy I knew on the job here about then. I was glad to leave. It was difficult not to think of you every day in those surroundings.” She kissed me softly on the lips. “We were so much in love,” she whispered. I kissed her back and we began the dance of tongues. Somebody woke and stretched in my pants. I cupped her breast and noticed it was fuller and softer than I remembered. She wasn’t wearing a bra, a discovery that sent me all atwitter. Her heart was pounding like my own and she was breathing hard. “Oh, Michael, I do still love you. Do you love me?” “Let me count the ways,” I said. I couldn’t remember all of Liz Browning’s sonnet, but I offered what I could: “I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! If God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.” She seemed to melt in my arms, as if a heavy weight was taken off. She wept silently, and her tears soaking into my shirt seemed to wash away all the bitterness and. And then the soft, subtle sucking began. One suck, two, three, and then her lips would gently enclose and wetly swathe the sensitized tip, circling slowly. And never a hurry, never seeking more, never a thought of the next moment, but always a slow, moist lingering in the present. Then I surmised what she was doing. As I had done in the streets and earlier with her body, she was memorizing. She seemed to nurse, protect, savor, and record each moment, each sensation, each response. Her eyes never left my cock. And as she saw my hardened shaft pulse, the glimmerings of a satisfied smile crossed her face. She lifted her body and put her hands astride my head and her knees astride my chest, and she raised onto her arms and looked down between us and centered her middle over mine and, carefully, she lowered herself and pressed my cock against my stomach and settled on me with the top half of my cock nestled in her tuft and the lower half cradled in her humid slit. Then she settled onto her.
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