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Just the girls this time.


They hung up, and Sam pondered her words and his reaction to them. The memory of their last night together thirty years before, was vivid in his mind.

For several evenings they had clung to each other in silent agony over their mutual longing and their indecision over what to do about it. Each night Sam had gone back to his room leaving them both unfulfilled, but the last evening, he spoke.

"Emily, I want to make love to you."

She looked up at him with tear-stained eyes. "Sam, we shouldn't."

He looked down at her. "Can we stop?"

Sadly, she shook her head. Then they kissed deeply and passionately, the longing of the previous week, and the underlying tension of all their previous meetings finally given expression.

She led him to the bed, and sat him down, saying, "I need to get ready." She went into the bathroom, and returned wearing a sheer gown, open at the front. Sam gasped at her naked beauty. Softly she said, "All right Sam," and climbed onto the bed.

He undressed, and lay down beside her. They kissed again, and Sam slid his hand down her body. She gasped as he brushed her erect nipple, then his hand continued downward. She was wet, and he slipped his finger into her sopping pussy. She groaned, and pushed up against his hand.

The need burned strong in them, and that was the end of their foreplay. Sam rolled on top, and stropped her pussy with his cock. She stirred beneath him, but she didn't spread her legs wide enough for him to penetrate fully. He entered her, and began to thrust.

At first she lay unmoving, so passive he wondered if he had been wrong to push them into this. Then passion overtook her. She hooked her heels behind his ankles so hard it hurt, and began to push him deeper with slow and powerful pelvic thrusts. He matched her rhythm, and realized that she now controlled their lovemaking.

As they climbed the peak, Sam felt as though she was drawing out his very essence, and they came together in an orgasm so violent that he groaned, something he had never done before.

Both of them subsided quickly, troubled by their unaccustomed cheating, and frightened by the intensity of their mutual reactions. Brusquely Sam said, "Let's get cleaned up." They walked naked into the bathroom, avoiding looking at each other.

Sam washed himself while Emily showered. He finished, returned to the bedroom, pulled on his shorts, and sat down on the edge of the bed, shaken by the power of his emotions. He had hoped that consummating their lust would relieve his feelings but they were more intense than ever.

She returned wrapped in the sheer gown, and lay down while he sat on the edge. They stared at each other for a long moment. Sam sighed, and said, "I thought that would get you out of my system." Tears sprang to her eyes, she flushed with anger and looked at him reproachfully.

He lay down next to her, saying softly, "Emily, Emily, I'm sorry I said that." He wrapped his arms around her and she responded with warmth. They repeated their earlier performance, and again Sam's orgasm was the most intense he'd ever experienced.

This time they lay quietly together in the afterglow, Sam profoundly disturbed by the experience. After a time he sighed. "Well, where do we go from here, babe?"

"We go back to our lives. I love you, Sam."

"I love you too, Emily."

They held each other, and cried. The rest was history.

Sam sighed, his thoughts returning to the present. He was leaking pre-cum like a bull elephant in musth, and that was his state for most of the next two days. He dwelled on the memory of their brief time together, and was torn with uncertainty about whether any of it could be recaptured.

He boarded the airplane in a sweat over what he would find when he got there. The flight was the longest five hours he ever experienced.

They agreed to meet by the baggage claim area, Emily to wear a yellow dress that would make her stand out in the crowd.

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