Chapter 1 - Arrival

I had just turned off the shower as I got ready for work, when I heard a knock on the front door. Whoever could be wanting me at this time of the morning? Picking up a towelling bathrobe and belting it around me, I headed downstairs and towards the door. The knock came again, gaining in volume and urgency.

“Alright, hold your horses, I’m coming!”

I pulled open the front door and between the mesh of the fly-screen door I could see a woman standing there, her hand raised to knock.

“Stephen?”

“Yes?” her voice sounded vaguely familiar, someone from long, long ago. No one here called me Stephen, it was always Stevo. No one had called me Stephen or even Steve, for best part of ten years.

“It’s me…”

I peered through the mesh at the woman, dressed in a huge puffer-type coat that she held around her. The cut of her curly, mousy brown hair looked sort of familiar.

“Well, are you going to let me in, I’ve been sat outside in a car all night and it wasn’t warm.”

“Er, yes,” I said uncertainly, and unlatched the fly-screen, pushing it open.

Her face swam into focus, older than I remembered, seven years older.

“Dagmar! What the fuck are you doing here? And how did you find me?”

She pushed through the door, pushing it shut behind her as I backed up the hallway.

“I’ve missed you, my love. I’ve missed you so much.”

“You’re insane. You left me, you bled me dry with a divorce so you could go cavorting off with What’s-his-name, left me with barely enough money for a plane ticket.”

“So much hate, dear. Let it go.”

“Let it go, let it f’king go? I’m still single because I still can’t trust people.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I know I made mistakes.”

I turned and walked into the living room, intending to find my phone and call the cops. Turning back around, I found her standing just an arm’s length away.

“I know I did wrong, and I know there were things I could never give you, but I’ve changed now.”

“Changed? You manipulative git, I’m calling the cops. I assure you, there is nothing you could give me that I want.”

Dagmar stepped back, shrugged, and dropped the coat to the floor.

Well! Seven years had not aged her body, her skin was as pale and as smoothly unblemished as it had been as a teenager. What I could see of it, between the assembly of black-lace stockings, suspenders, g-string, and a push-up bra. And a push-up bra!

“What the hell? Where on earth did you get those from.”

“I did it for you, dearest. I know you didn’t love me because I had small tits, so I saved up and got these, just for you. Then I searched for you. Now I’m here, you still want me, a little bit, don’t you?”

Her voice had become quiet, soft, pleading, wheedling her way into my emotions as she always had done. And it was working. While her voice triggered all my best memories of her, the sight of her triggered my body like a Pavlovian dog, my erection rising and pushing out from the front of my robe.

She walked forward and cradled it softly in her hand.

“Oh, so big. Hold them, I got them for you.”

In stunned silence, I lifted my hands and cupped the outside of her bra, feeling the weight of her breasts. Her hand now encircled my cock, wanking it in slow, determined strokes.

“Oh gawd, stop Dagmar, I’ve not had anybody for years. You’ll make me cum.” I whispered slowly, as waves of sadness and imagined future regret washed through me.

She let go but raised her hand and unhooked the front fastener of her bra, shrugging it from her shoulders. Her huge, firm and round breasts swayed just perceptibly between us she crouched down, her hands lifting them to a phenomenal cleavage as she leaned forward and kissed my cock.

“Go on, wank all over my tits. It’s what you always wanted to do when I didn’t have a cleavage, now I have one, just for you.”

Her mouth opened and she rocked back and forth, her lips rubbing up and down the length of my cock.

“Oh fuck, Dags, I’m going to cum…”

“Go on then, cum on my tits, cum all over me, I want it!”

It was all too much. I seized my cock, took a couple of strokes, and unloaded in her face, in her open mouth, and all over her tits and cleavage.

Swaying back and forth for a moment, I gave up the unequal struggle and collapsed to the floor. Remorse for what I had just done, guilt, residual hatred, and unrequited love all trampled around in my head, each seeking supremacy.

“Oh, that was lovely, so much. See? I said it would be worth it. Now, whilst you are down there, what do you think of this?”

As I lay on my back on the floor, she straddled my chest, pulled her g-string to one side, and presented her shaven pussy to my mouth.

“See, shaven, just a little Brazilian stripe, so I’m all clean and lovely for you.”

Her fingers parted her labia and she brushed them over my lips. I inhaled sharply, breathing in her musky, heady aroma, further triggering memories I had long locked away in their vault. Cautiously I flicked across her with my tongue.

“Oh Steve, oh, do that again, you know I love you doing that.”

She descended towards me and I licked again, then probed between her inner lips with my tongue, finally tasting her inner spirit. Good memories flooded back, washing away years of bitterness and hatred. All I could remember now were our hot nights of endless sex, hours of our bodies writhing together as we screwed each other’s brains out. The licking, the sucking, the endless fucking in every position we could imagine as our young bodies sought to achieve through exertion what we failed the technique to reach.

“Lick me, make me cum like I used to. Steve, I’ve missed you so much.”

I licked some more, feeling her become wetter and wetter until it ran down my chin, then opened wide and sucked as much of her shaven mound as I could into my mouth. I sucked, released, and then went in search of her clitoris.

I remembered how small and delicate it was, how the gentlest direct touch could be too much for her, so I probed with my tongue and then as I felt her respond, moving her body to position the exact spot over my lips, I sucked her hood gently.

“Oh Steve, Steve, Steve, again, again, I want to cum, please.”

Her voice, pleading now, cracked as if she was on the verge of tears. Suddenly it struck me, I hadn’t seen her eyes. I’d been totally focused on her new, big tits and the lingerie, forgetting to look into her eyes. My hands gripped her hips, feeling the lace of her black suspender belt. I pushed, lifting her away from me.

“Oh, please, don’t stop.”

“Sofa,” I gasped around a mouth full of muff as she pressed back down on to me.

She was shaking slightly as she rose from me, from what emotion I couldn’t yet discern, but she was nowhere near orgasm, that much I knew from the past. She turned and sat on the sofa, her arse just resting on the edge, her legs wide apart. I turned and knelt between them.

“Please,” she said, her fingers holding her labia apart, “lick me some more, make me cum like you used to.”

I looked at her, and saw now the spunk running down her belly, over her boobs, and the traces in her hair and beside her eyes. Her eyes, finally I looked into them. And there they were, icy blue, that icy blue of the cruel, hard bitch that had tried to take me for everything she could get to fund her running off with Lover Boy. Her eyes were made up now as they were then, dark black eyeliner with pale blue eyeshadow, but now the eyeliner was running, smudging on to her cheeks, cheeks streaked with her tears.

“Please Steve, please, lick me until I cum and fuck me, fuck me until it hurts. Hurt me, Steve. Let me say sorry.”

That did it for me. Much as I had hated her and despised her in the past, I’d moved on. I held memories and regret, but couldn’t intentionally hurt her.

“No.”

The word hung in the air between us like the tolling of a bell.

“Why? Please, I got tits for you, I’ve come to the other side of the world to find you. Don’t you know how much I’ve missed you?”

“I missed you, a long time ago.”

“Don’t you fancy me at all, even a tiny bit. You used to. I’m better now, I can make you happy now.”

“Yes, but could I ever make you happy? It didn’t seem like I ever did.”

“You did Steve, only you ever did. I know that now, please.”

Dagmar stood up, still with her high heels on, and looked me in the eyes, that piercing look that she had, that so pushed into my soul and yet revealed only ice on her side.

“Please, I’m sorry, I was young and stupid and didn’t know what I’d got. You never know what you’ve got until you lose it, isn’t that what they say?”

She looked at me as I stood, arms hanging limply by my sides, still in a state of shock. Ten minutes ago this was another boring work day.

“Have you got someone else?”

“No,” I whispered.

Her hands reached out and took hold of mine, lifting them to cup her breasts.

“Nice?” she asked, her voice a whisper as she pressed her lips to mine.

I felt her lips touch mine and opened my mouth as hers opened, felt the rapid exchange of breath, the tasting of my spunk and her juices as our tongues entwined. Just the way we used to do it. Her hand was around my neck, pulling me to her as she leaned backward, thrusting her mound at my groin. I could feel the lace of her g-string pressing against my cock.

Her head pulled back slightly, to turn slightly to one side, just enough so that she could look at me sideways in that cute way that she had.

“Are you getting hard again?” Her lips held a smile.

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

Her hand pushed between us and felt my cock. At that instant, she knew that she had won.

“Come on, show me your bed.”

I lead her upstairs, her hand in mine, not a further word being said. My mind was a fog of emotions and questions, memories and regrets. Everything was moving too fast. I couldn’t process it, or work out what I thought. I was just sailing on a sea of turbulent emotions and I was acutely aware of the touch of her hand in mine and the way my hardening cock swayed heavily before me as I walked.

In the bedroom, I pulled last night’s crumpled duvet from the bed, dropping it to the floor as I climbed onto the bed, still holding her hand. I lay on my side and she lay on hers. We each looked deep into each other’s eyes, our fingers still entwined.

“Why?” I whispered.

“Because I love you,” she offered, her voice soft and low.

“Why then…”

“Make love to me…”

“I don’t have any condoms.”

A sudden fear swept through me, that this was a trap, another of her games, some final way to get back at me. She stiffened and pushed herself up with her free hand.

“I still don’t want kids, never did, never will, nothing is worth that, so don’t worry, I’m on the pill, never stopped, never will. And you know I hate condoms.”

“I don’t remember condoms being a thing you disliked, but it is a very long time ago.”

“Hmm, well we never did after we stopped using them. But I have since, and I hate it. Enough!”

I persisted, trying to give myself time to think.

“So what happened to himself, Lover Boy.”

“It didn’t last. He wanted to marry me and have kids and I realized he wasn’t you. By then, by the time I realised what I’d done, what I’d lost, you were gone, left the country. Let’s just say, I did a lot of looking for a replacement or a substitute. But I had to admit,” her hand untangled itself from mine and she reached for my cock, “what I wanted was you.”

“So why the huge…?”

I looked at her breasts, full and lovely and so unlike the Dagmar I remembered. I felt her hand tighten around me as she began to stroke. I’d started to soften as we talked, but I was hardening again now.

“Because they were the root cause.”

“I loved your tits.”

“You loved them too much, and you were always looking at women with big tits, wanting me to wear sexy lingerie that they didn’t make in my tiny size. I began to hate you for it. You may have loved me despite my tits, but you certainly didn’t love me for them. So, when I finally admitted that you were the only man I ever wanted, that I wanted you back, that I wanted to find you wherever you were, I decided to have these so I could give you everything you wanted. Aren’t they great? Please say you like them?”

“They are certainly very impressive, I’m just coming to terms with them on you.”

“Steve?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and fuck me… please.”

She lay down again, rolling onto her back and reaching for my hand, guiding it to rest between her legs.

I felt how smooth her hairless pussy was, and as a finger slipped between her holds, how wet she was. She sighed.

“Finger me and lick me like you used to, please, Steve?”

She certainly had some particular memories of the past that she meant to revive, but I knew what she meant. The way I’d given her her first orgasm, and something we’d repeated endlessly afterwards.

I looked at her face, examining every pore, looking for changes, for signs of the years gone by, looking for signs of change, whilst my finger slowly rubbed back and forth between her inner lips, creeping ever closer to her entrance, until finally, my fingertip dipped into her. She bit her bottom lip and waited until I slid my finger in and then started to slowly finger fuck her. She relaxed her shoulders and her mouth opened invitingly, seemingly drawing my lips to her, my torso resting across her breasts as we kissed. Meanwhile, my finger worked back and forth inside her and I felt her pussy tighten on it. Our lips parted.

“Now.” Her voice was barely a whisper and both a request and a question.

With a last peck of her lips, I moved down her body, lingering just long enough to kiss both her nipples, both still the rosebuds I remembered, but now hard and sitting atop stretched areola which were definitely bigger than I remembered. Kissing my way down her belly, placing a single kiss in the tiny triangle of remaining hair, I latched my lips around her clit’s hood and sucked. Her hands flew to my head and her hips pushed her pussy up into my face.

“Aaaahhhh!” she gasped.

Releasing her with my lips and waiting until she was again resting on the bed, I started to finger-fuck her fast and hard, the backs of my fingers hammering against her vulva as my middle digit sought her depths and my tongue sought her clit. I licked and sucked and sucked and licked, feeling her get wetter and wetter, her breathing start to quicken and become ragged as my cock hardened further at her response.

Faster and faster, I sucked and licked, her clit now coming to the fore, being lashed by my tongue and sucked in turn. My hand and forearm began to ache, perhaps I was doing this wrong, I’d forgotten something or she had changed perhaps. I sucked and again, a sea of moisture and her vagina was now actively clenching on my finger. Suddenly her back arched up and she squeezed me to a standstill.

“Oh, Steve! FUCK! Oh My God! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh.”

Her hips banged up and down as a crashing orgasm ripped through her. I looked at her chest, and just there, as I remembered it, was the telltale bright red flush just under her neck that used to signify her orgasm in the days that she used to suppress it and never utter a sound.

Retrieving my hand, I moved to lay between her legs, rubbed my cock in her moistness and pushed.

Her legs widened and her knees came up as I sank into her, wondering at how tight and how perfect it felt. Like your first sexual experience, coming home, and getting an electric shock all at the same time.

Her legs wrapped around my back now and I thrust into her, my hips hammering my rock-hard cock into her, starting with long, probing, forceful strokes but speeding up now, jackhammering my lust and need for my own orgasm into her.

I lifted my eyes from her tits and saw that her eyes were open wide, her mouth gasping, but she smiled and reached to steady her bouncing breasts, pushing them to a swaying cleavage as she tightened her legs around me, clamping me to her.

“Oh god, Steve, you’re so big, so hard, I’d forgotten, oh my god, I’m going to cum…”

Her legs were so tightly wrapped around me that I couldn’t stroke inside her, I was just pressed hard into her, bucking against her, my pubic bone banging against hers, my bell-end against her cervix.

“Oh god, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, cumming… aaaarrrrhhhh,” she shrieked as she twisted beneath me, writhing from side to side, loosening her legs grip on my back.

Taking my chance, I started to fuck her with long, hard strokes, pushing deep into her and pulling back to thrust in again. Years of pent-up emotions, hatred and love twisted and melded together on the top of my cock, seeking, seeking I didn’t know what.

“Oh god, I’m cumming,” she gasped, now sounding surprised, “uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, cumming… aaaarrrrhhhh.”

A second or so ago I was about to cum, now it had passed and all I wanted, ALL I wanted was to fuck her, fuck her to make up for the lost years, the years of longing and regret and misplaced self-condemnation. Years of missed love and worthless sex. Now I wanted to make up for it.

I sat up, got my arms beneath her legs, the back of her knees into the crook of my arms and pushed, rolling her up until her hips came off the bed and her legs approached her own shoulders. Now I could really fuck her deeply, use my leg muscles to drive me down into her. Rage and passion flooded me, I could feel heat surging through my body, my muscles felt alive and my cock felt hard and dominant. Now I wanted her. I admitted it to myself finally. I wanted her, as I always had done and I wanted her to cum and feel like she’d been fucked like never before.

“Steve, Steve, oh god, I’m cumming,” her shoulders shook and tears were running from her eyes, streaking away the remnants of her eyeliner.

“Please cum, I’m cumming, Steve, please…”

A few more seconds of the sustained jackhammer and I acquiesced to her request, pushing hard into her, and stopped.

There was an instant of pause, her eyes looked into mine and for a second there was a glimmer of doubt, of not knowing what was to come, and then I came.

It felt like all the years of missing her, of loneliness, had been stored up in my balls and it was all being released now. I could feel the volume of spunk pouring through my cock, not a spurt or thick rope shot high, but an outpouring of cum, with pulses.

I was still cumming as I released her, lowered her legs back down to lay on the bed as I lay on top of her.

Her pussy started to squeeze me now, rhythmically squeezing out the last drops.

Her eyes were wide.

“Are you still cumming?”

“Think that’s it,” I laughed.

“Bet you can’t do that again,” she said with a smile.

I tensed my muscles, making my softening cock twitch inside her.

“Fancy a doggy as sloppy seconds?” I asked, reviving memories of the distant past.

She cuffed me playfully across the shoulder.

“Oh god, you’re disgusting, but yes, when you’re ready.”

We lay there for some time, as I tried to carry most of my weight on my elbows, both just looking at the other. Eventually we had to give in to the inevitable.

“Roll over,” she said, “I want to be on top when…”

Holding each other tight, we rolled over and she sat up, getting her knees beneath her and her back upright.

“Now?” she asked.

I nodded and she raised herself up and forward, relinquishing her pussy’s hold on my cock which slumped wetly onto my belly. The was a second of anticipation then a flood of spunk dripped from her onto my belly.

“Oh my god, where did you get all that from?” she asked in apparent shock.

“I’ve been saving it up for you,” I joked.

“It looks like it!” she said, smiling and there looked to be real happiness in her eyes. “Wait there.”

That was Chapter 1 of "[Evoking the Past]()" by David Timmsdale, available from all your favourite retailers at: https://books2read.com/u/38JNlw