I Remember You (An Erotic Romance) - Isis Cole by Unknown Page A

bikini bottoms, and moved along the edge of it.  His strong hands moved along her thighs, first just stroking them, then gently gripping them.  His tongue moved to the space between her legs, then pressed firmly against the fabric there.  He felt a heat rising from there.  It created a scent, a musk, that drove him insane with lust.   
      “Mike…” he heard her say, her voice deep in her throat.   
      The hot sun beat down.  
      His hands moved to her ass, his fingers snaring the waistband of her bottoms.  He peeled them downwards.   
      “I don’t think we…” she said, but she raised her ass to accommodate him, to make peeling away her clothes all the easier.  He pulled the bottoms down her thighs almost to her knees, but no further.  It was sexier like this somehow, her little yellow panties half on and half off.  It was like she was tied up.  It made her his prisoner, right here on this public beach, quarter of a mile from her family’s house.   
      Her ass and her pussy were exposed to him now.  Inside his shorts, his erection was massive, throbbing.  But he didn’t dare put it in her.  Not yet.  He wanted to make her cum first, he wanted to watch her rising orgasms, one after another, that he knew his tongue would give her.  Then he wanted to take her, her ass raised to the sky, her face pressed to the blanket.  He wanted to slide his dick inside her soaking wet, hot pussy, slowly at first, then faster and harder, fucking her like an animal, while she whimpered and moaned and growled at him.   
      He put his tongue directly against her ass.  He pushed it inside her hole, driving it deep, penetrating her.    
      “Anh,” she said.   
      His hand strayed to her pussy, feeling the heat and the moisture there.  The heat was already like an oven.  She was already soaked.   
      He drove his tongue inside her ass again.  She pressed her body hard against his face.  He knew from experience how much she loved his tongue there, how hot it made her, how fast and how hard the orgasms would come.  
      He looked up, and here she came now, winding her way through the summer throngs of Quincy Market, the moms and dads in khaki shorts and sandals, the children with their ice cream cones, the tourists, the drunks, the dreadlocked teenagers in ripped army surplus shorts and t-shirts with slogan written on them in black magic marker.  
      She wore a light flower-print dress, drawn at the waist with a black faux-leather belt.  Her hair was still long, though not as long as it once was.  The body seemed much the same.  When she turned sideways to squeeze through the crowd, he caught sight of her round ass, that ass which used to keep him awake at night.  It was still there, an apple, a pear, a strawberry which once begged to be covered in his cream.   
      Her face was different, though.  As she came closer, he could see that she carried the years in her face.  It was still very pretty, beautiful almost, but thinner now, and lined with something he might think of as worry.   
      Still, when she saw him, she smiled, and her eyes lit up, and for a split second there was something of the old delicious intensity there.  
      “Hi Michael,” she said.   
      “Hi Rachel.”  
      They paused, awkward for a second as all the old hurts flashed through.  Then they hugged.  They eased into it, a formal sort of hug at first, which slowly melted into the real thing.  Then their bodies pressed together, and they were alone in the midst of hundreds of people.  He felt that he could push it further, he could become entangled with her, flesh to flesh, soul to soul, that she wanted this, but he was reluctant.  It was too much, way too much, way too soon.   
      When they pulled apart, she looked up into his face.  “How long has it been, twenty years?”  
      He nodded.  “Just about twenty years.”  
      “Well, you haven’t aged a day,” she said.