T E N Y E A R S G O N E

An Erotic Reunion

by

SEAN GERARD LEAH

CONTENTS

TEN YEARS GONE

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

About the Author

T E N Y E A R S G O N E

Part One

I lay on my bed in the hotel at noon, indiffer-
ently watching soft-core porn on pay-per-
view as I reflected that ten years was far too
quick to have gotten stuck in this sorry state.
Single. Alone. My dick in my hand as I
jacked off and eventually shot with an empty
groan onto the towel I’d draped across my
stomach.

I was twenty-eight. I thought about the

past a lot. I thought about high school a lot. I
thought about how different my life was sup-
posed to be.

I thought about Mareta. More than I could

ever admit.

It must have been May, a month before

grad. We were in the storeroom downstairs,

just off the student lounge and the parking
lot corridor where Mareta and I had been
three lockers apart all year. We skipped last
class that day, probably physics, because
neither of us ever needed an excuse to skip
physics. We were in the storeroom to dig
through and organize four-dozen boxes of
books donated for a grad rummage sale the
following week.

I can’t remember if we volunteered or

were drafted by the grad committee for this
particular job. Which is to say, I can’t re-
member whether Mareta volunteered or
was drafted. But I was there because I went
anywhere Mareta went, as a matter of
course.

Mareta was supposed to be the one. Only I

never got around to telling her that. Because
something happened in between the moment
in sophomore year that I first set eyes on her
and felt my heart and my hard-on tell me

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this was the most beautiful, the most enga-
ging girl I’d ever know, and the moment in
senior year that I said goodbye to her for the
last time. Something really fucking annoying
cropped up to get in the way of the intimacy
that I felt she and I were destined for, with
all my heart and soul.

Sometime in junior year, Mareta and I be-

came friends. And the most beautiful, most
engaging girl I’d ever known went off the
menu, leaving me with just my memories.
My dreams.

More than anything else in my life, I re-

member these dreams. Not the images of
things that happened, but of things that
could have happened. The memories of the
life that should have been.

When I jacked off at the hotel, it was the

memory of all those other memories, not the
hotel porn, that got me hard.

Like they had for the past ten years, it was

the memories of everything that could have

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been that got me off. It was the memories
that had kept me going.

In reality, in the truth of what we were,

we spent that last period alone in a high-
school storeroom talking about nothing,
and laughing about nothing. And then it
was done, and Mareta said, “Thanks.”

In the dream, in the fantasy, in the mo-

ment of a life unlived that I desperately wish
I could go back to, she says, “Thanks.” And
then I lean in and kiss her.

I go gently at first, because I have no ex-

pectations. I feel the sense of surprise at her
lips, opened as if to say something, but I’m
swallowing the words before she has a
chance to make them. Then I feel her tongue
testing me, answering the passion that tears
through me like a shockwave. Then both our
tongues are touching, our bodies locked to
each other. My hands are at her back, her

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neck, her incredible ass, anywhere that they
can touch down to feel the softness of her.

“

Check the door,” she whispers, and I

stumble away to do so. I shut both locks
tight, no chance for anyone to get in. By the
time I turn back, she’s pulling her shirt off,
shaking out the mahogany tresses of her
hair. She presses her hands to her firm tits,
packed into a black lace bra. She lifts them,
holds them out for me. I’m on my knees in
front of her, licking between her breasts,
licking her belly as I fumble her bra down.
Then I take both her perfect tits in my
mouth, one stiffening nipple at a time.

I almost junked the email when it first

came in. The Class of 1991!!! — 10th Reunion
Celebration!!! complete with all six exclama-
tion marks. Those ten years had been fairly
empty ones for me. I’d been consistently
stressed throughout a bachelor’s in educa-
tion and the master’s degree that followed it.

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I was consumed by work as an elementary
school vice principal, then principal. I was
banging a long line of women, none of whom
meant anything to me.

A good job, good pay, meaningless sex.

Every guy’s dream life. Except for this guy,
who wanted more than anything to find
someone I could share my life with. A wo-
man I could embrace as a friend even before
taking as a lover. The fact that none of my
endless string of relationships had lasted
more than three months spoke to my inabil-
ity to make that happen.

Ten years ago now, Mareta and I had been

friends. But the memory of how that friend-
ship felt had become a weight around my
neck that seemed intent on dragging down
every relationship that followed. Ten years
ago, I had felt a passion for Mareta that
defined my sexuality, warping it around my
inability to ever let her know how I felt about

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her. Friends without benefits, in the most
severe way.

Because being Mareta’s friend was import-

ant to me. And recognizing how strongly I
felt about her, I knew that there was no way
our friendship could survive the passion I
felt. So for the sake of that friendship, I
forced the passion aside. It was worth it, I
told myself. I just didn’t know what kind of
price I would pay in the end.

To make it look good and to keep things

safe, I actually dated Mareta’s sister a few
times during senior year, a sophomore
named Kim. She was a cute kid. A sweet kid.
A kind of younger version of Mareta in her
looks, but most definitely a kid, which meant
I had no temptation to get anywhere even
within striking distance of her pants. Those
urges, I reserved exclusively for Mareta, em-
bracing the undercurrent of sexual agony
that underlay the intimacy of our friendship.

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Throughout senior year, we were the

closest of always-laughing-over-the-same-
stupid-jokes friends. Finishing-algebra-and-
physics-homework-together-in-the-student-
lounge friends. Late-night-phone-calls-to-
bitch-about-your-parents friends. I-wish-we-
weren’t-such-good-friends-because-I’d-love-
to-fuck-you friends.

I can still remember the summer evening

that last one came to light.

A bunch of us had been hanging in the

park past sunset, then when it was time to
go, I offered Mareta a ride like I always did.
We’d been talking all day and kept it up on
the drive home, laughing like we always did.
Her house was dark when we rolled up her
long driveway, her parents and sisters out at
dinner and a movie, she said.

She thanked me for the ride. She leaned

over to kiss me on the cheek. “Sometimes I
wish we weren’t such good friends,” she said.
“I could really go for you.” She smiled as she

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opened the door. I watched her skip up the
driveway in the glow of my headlights, her
amazing ass barely contained by her tight
shorts. She waved to me as she disappeared
inside the house.

I can still remember how I had to jack off

three times that night before my hard-on fi-
nally eased and I could force myself to sleep.
That wasn’t the first night I’d jacked off to
thoughts of Mareta, not by a long shot. But it
was the night when I started to dream about
all the things that could have been. Dream-
ing about all the things I already knew were
never going to be.

The fantasy is a blur. It’s slightly different

each time, never the same specifics playing
out in terms of the action.

We’re on the floor of the storeroom, me on

my back and her on top of me, sucking on
my tongue as she rubs her luscious tits

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against my bare chest and her crotch
against my rock-hard cock still in my pants.

She’s on a chair, leaning back against the

wall as I pull her tight jeans down to expose
her sweet pussy. Her chocolate-dark pubes
are trimmed neatly but left long in a beauti-
ful swirl above her clit. I spread her legs as I
lift them to my shoulders, pushing in to
trace my tongue along her wet slit.

We’re sitting together, both of us naked

and Mareta straddling me. Her tits are
thrust against my face, firmer than I ever
imagined as I suck her nipples like a hungry
child. We’re eighteen years old, both of us
starving for this first feeling of each other.
So wet, so hard, so ready. My cock is so
thick, her pussy so tight as she pushes down
against me, gasping as she takes me a half-
inch at a time. I’m spitting to my hand in
between kissing her, my saliva and hers
mixed together to lube me up, getting me as

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wet as I need to be to ply her tightness for
the first time.

I’m shooting inside her. Leaning over her

where she lays back on a stack of boxes, legs
wrapped around me. She cries out with the
voice of a songbird as my body spasms and
locks me to her, my cock crammed inside
her tight pussy to the hilt. I fill her with my
cum, fill her with my scream that makes her
laugh for joy even as she stops my cry with
a desperate hand to my mouth. There’s a
school’s worth of people outside the door,
and all I want to do is shout out that I love
her.

I love you.

I loved you. That’s the secret, Mareta.

I almost junked the email. And then just

on a whim, I clicked through to the reunion
website. I saw embarrassing pictures of seni-
or year, the prom, the grad ceremonies.

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Hairstyles best left forgotten. One shot of me
in a tux that I’d kill to be able to fit into now.

I saw a picture of her, packed into the

pale-yellow backless one-shoulder number
she wore to the prom. I saw the list of people
who had already committed to attending the
reunion festivities. Her name was there.
Mareta. A short note that she’d filled in on
the web form. Looking forward to seeing old
friends.

I loved you, Mareta.
That’s what I’m going to tell you tonight.

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Part Two

That senior prom, Mareta had gone as the
date of Rob Fitzgerald, defensive tackle for
our first-place-that-year football team. I’d
already asked Kim to go with me because I
kind of felt obliged to, knowing that when I
headed out of state for college in July, that
was it for us. I knew that Mareta and Rob
had no chance of ever being an item anyway.
His only real interest in her was the profile
she presented in the tight t-shirts she loved
to wear, and she was too smart socially to
turn down a casual date with a football play-
er when the opportunity presented itself.

I had a good time with Kim that night, all

things considered. Mareta and Rob didn’t
even make it through to the last dance,
which only added to my enjoyment. I never
got the whole story, but from where I was

sitting, it looked like he was unable to keep
his hands off her and she got pissed about it.
He left with three of his defensive-line
cronies. Mareta got a ride home with other
friends.

I had to drive Kim home that night. But all

the time since then, I’ve thought about what
would have happened if I hadn’t.

Mareta stands at the juice bar, watching

as Rob makes his exit. She’s alone and off to
the side of the crowd, so that no one really
sees her except me where I walk up to her.
When she sees me, she flashes a smile.

“

Bad night,” she says ruefully.

“

No,” I say. “Not anymore.” And I see her

look of surprise, feeling the faint tremble in
her as I reach up to stroke her hair.

We’re outside, walking through the gar-

dens that run along two sides of the gym.
The ever-present layer of junk food wrap-
pers and other detritus that builds up here

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year-round has been cleaned up for prom,
the one night of the year that these stands of
juniper and boxwood and weeping willows
look as romantic as they should.

The moon is almost full, high in the sky as

Mareta leads me into the shadows. Her
hand is shaking as she pulls me close to her,
leaning up to kiss me hard. Then she’s push-
ing me back against the gym wall and drop-
ping to her haunches in front of me. The
pale-yellow dress is silver-gold in the moon-
light, swept up and over her legs so that it
doesn’t get dirty. I get a great view this way
of her rose-print panties, one hand slipping
inside them as the other fumbles with my
fly.

Her hand is shaking as she unzips my

dress pants. I’m so hard for her already that
I’m actually hurting where the curve of my
cock is bent the wrong way inside my un-
derwear. Then I’m out and free, and
Mareta’s fingers tracing along me are like a

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breath of warm air. However, I’m staring at
her other hand where it’s pulled her panties
to the side to show off her absolutely smooth
snatch. She’s shaved clean, not a hair, not a
bump on her. And as she sees my look of
hunger, she whispers, “I was hoping I’d
have a chance to show you that tonight…”

Her tongue reaches out for me, sending a

wave of endless pleasure through me as she
swirls around my head, pushing my fore-
skin back. I’m long and hard over her face
where she crouches below me, lifting her
tongue to lick the underside of my shaft. Her
breasts are raised by the bodice of her dress,
pressed tight to form a sea of cleavage that I
could easily drown in. Her eyes are wide
open, watching me.

The dream is different every time.
Sometimes Mareta only tongues me as

she strokes, working me long and deep with
her hand as she licks the precum from my
head as fast as it oozes out. She finger-fucks

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herself as she does, alternating hands at in-
tervals so that I can feel the wetness of her
pussy stroking my shaft.

Sometimes I fuck her mouth gently, my

hands tracing through the gentle fall of her
hair as I push into her. With Mareta’s
mouth wrapped around my shaft, I can see
how big I am, I can feel how hard I am. I
have to be careful not to go too deep, revel-
ing in the feeling of her focus on my cock as
she crouches beneath me. She works her clit
hard, thrusting against herself in the same
rhythm with which I’m thrusting against
her.

Sometimes, Mareta deep-throats me.

She’s so hungry, so wild, so out of control as
she fucks me with her mouth, pushing in a
little bit farther each time. She has both
hands at her pussy, working her clit as she
slips a finger inside herself. Then two fin-
gers. Three.

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I’m staring at her mouth stretched wide

around me, my thick head long gone
between her lips, my swollen shaft slowly
disappearing. I can feel myself sliding inside
the unfamiliar tightness of her throat, my
foreskin peeling back as my precum adds to
the spit that lubes me for her. I’m ready to
scream, so turned on as I watch her neck
distend with the hardness of me.

Then she’s coming all over herself, and the

thrill of that absolute release lets her force
herself down on me, her lips in my pubic
hair suddenly, her chin pressed against my
heavy balls.

Different dreams. Different memories

that never were. It always ends the same,
though.

I’m so close, pushed to the edge by the in-

credible pleasure of Mareta’s mouth on me.
Mareta can feel it, she can hear it as I thrust
harder against her, involuntary.

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“

You can’t come on my dress,” she whis-

pers, so I don’t. I come in her mouth instead,
stuffing myself in as she opens wide and
eagerly.

My first shot sets a smile of delight in her

eyes, and then she’s moaning and swallow-
ing as fast as she can. I have her dark hair
in my hands, my cock thrusting into her
mouth. Both her hands are wrapped around
me, keeping me from going too deep as her
tongue and lips work me. She swallows, and
she swallows, and I shoot into her for what
feels like forever.

When my cock finally stops throbbing, I

pull out slowly. Mareta’s brown eyes are
bright in the moonlight as she smiles up at
me. She licks her lips, showing not a trace of
cum on her tongue, not a drop spilled.

I lift her to me, crush her against me as I

kiss her neck, her ears, her mouth still salty
with the taste of me. She has my softening
cock in her hands, my own hands trembling

22/61

as I squeeze her ass, as I cup her breasts be-
neath their layers of cloth, sculpted and
form-fitted to perfection.

“

I love you,” I whisper, and it’s true.

It had always been true.
Tonight, Mareta. Tonight.

For a long time, I thought that as I got

older, things would get easier. Throughout
my twenties, I imagined that the women I
dated would become less flighty and more
focused. More open to the idea of settling
down. And most were, to be sure. They just
weren’t interested in settling down with me.

When I flew in for the reunion, I had re-

served a Lexus at the rental agency, not sure
who I was trying to impress. At home, I
drove a Ford Focus because the only time I
ever spent on the road was between home
and work. But heading out of the hotel park-
ing lot that night, leaning back against white

23/61

leather, I reveled in the sensation of feeling
younger, feeling freer than I had in a long
while. My destination was the rec center
where the festivities were about to get under-
way. My destination was a night I’d been
dreaming of for a decade now.

I still have fond memories of my first car,

the vintage 280ZX I’d rebuilt most of myself,
working at my dad’s autobody shop week-
ends and summers. I remember how much
Mareta liked it, always looking for an excuse
to ride with me whenever our group went
anywhere. On those group excursions during
the times I was dating Kim, Mareta would
ride in the back, leaning forward to drape
herself between our seats.

I think Mareta knew that I was never seri-

ous about Kim. But she never fully under-
stood how serious the relationship with her
was in my mind. The dreams of what could
have been.

24/61

As I drove to the rec center and the trip

back through ten years to a life I vowed I was
going to remake that night, I thought about
the long-ago night that I drove Mareta home.

She thanks me for the ride. She leans over

to kiss me on the cheek. “Sometimes I wish
we weren’t such good friends,” she says. “I
could really go for you.” She smiles as she
opens the door. And then the smile turns to
surprise as I reach across her to close it.

I’m pulling her to me and she’s pressing

into me as she squirms in her seat. My
hands are in her long hair, my tongue in her
mouth to feel her probing me back. Her
hands are trembling, overcome with her
passion as she slips them under my shirt,
one pushing up, one down to where my
erection strains against my fly.

I have no idea how she gets her shirt and

my pants off so quickly in the tight confines
of the front seat, but she does. And as I hold

25/61

my cock, she leans across the gearshift to
take it in her mouth for the first time, moan-
ing as she feels her way around my girth
and hardness. I push the seat back clumsily,
letting Mareta slip into place in front of the
steering wheel, her gorgeous ass raised high
as she goes up on her knees in her own seat.

One handed, it takes me forever to slip her

shorts off, but the reward is worth it. Her
ass in the shadows is smooth and hard be-
neath my hand, my fingers circling around
behind her, touching a trace of wetness at
her pubis where it juts out between her legs.

The fantasy is always different.
Sometimes she takes me all the way in her

mouth because I’m too turned on to hold
back. Too hard for her, too hungry for her,
and I scream her name as I shoot a load of
sweet, sticky cum across her neck and her
tits.

Sometimes I fumble my way into her seat,

kissing her hard, feeling her push her

26/61

nipples to my mouth as I suck hungrily and
lift her to my lap. I feel the sweet tightness
of Mareta’s virgin pussy open up around
me, a thing she’s saved for me and me alone,
my precum and her wetness soothing my
slow advance inside her.

Sometimes we make it into the cramped

back seat, where I lean back with my cock
standing straight up in front me, impossibly
hard. Mareta sits astride me to ride it
slowly that way, taking my head with a
moan, then my thick shaft. She has one hand
at the dark, wet tangle of her pubic hear, the
other arm constraining her hard breasts
where they bounce with each of her slow
thrusts against me. My arms are around
her, my legs up against her ass, my skin
pale against hers in the faint trace of reflec-
ted headlights that works its way through
the car’s fogged-up windows.

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As I pulled into the parking lot, I had to sit

for a moment to let my erection subside.
These dreams that plagued me had my heart
racing, my face flushed as I opened the win-
dow to feel the cool night beyond.

The dreams were always different in some

small way. But what was consistent, what
was the same each and every time, was the
feeling of how hungry I was for Mareta. How
much I wanted this woman, always so close
in memory, so far away.

I slipped into the main foyer of the rec

center, a surprisingly plush lounge and aud-
itorium dance floor turned over to the Class
of 1991 that night. I nodded back in response
to a few friendly faces, though I didn’t recog-
nize anyone. Further down, toward the main
doors, three long tables were set up where
people were congregating, shaking off the
years as they introduced themselves.

28/61

My parents had moved to Florida while I

was in my sophomore year at college. Then
when I was recruited for work two states
farther away after finishing my masters, I
lost my last excuse to maintain any connec-
tion to the life I’d had in high school. Truth
be told, I hadn’t even thought about who else
might be at the reunion tonight. Friends I
hadn’t seen in ten years that I should have
been thinking about, but there was only one
face, one person in my mind.

I saw her then.

In the dreams, what never changed is how

much she wanted me back, like I always
knew she would.

Tonight, Mareta. Now.

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Part Three

Like it might have been a scene from a
movie, cutting past all the preamble and
setup, she was there. Watching me from the
side of the crowd like she’d been waiting for
my arrival. Walking toward me now, glan-
cing casually around her as if to not make it
too obvious what her goal was.

She wore a dress of red silk cut above the

knee, into which her firm body had been per-
fectly packed. She clutched a matching purse
in one hand, black flats on her feet, her shad-
owed skin fairly glowing. Hoop earrings and
a necklace of white gold shone in the light,
no makeup on her face except a touch of eye
shadow, like always. Her hair showed chest-
nut highlights where it flowed in its familiar
waves. Her breasts rose firm and high,

nipples peeking out through silk and the
faint imprint of lace beneath.

In a heartbeat, in a single rush of breath,

the ten years that had passed were gone. The
eighteen-year-old I had fallen in love with,
and who I had lusted after throughout those
ten long years stepped up to me with a smile.

“

Mareta,” I said. “It’s so good to see you.”

She laughed, her gaze flicking down and

up to take me in. “Jason. It’s been a long
time.”

My head was a sudden rush of thoughts

and emotions. I couldn’t take my eyes from
her, trying hard to focus on her face and re-
frain from staring at the smooth lines of her
body where she pressed closer to me. She
glanced around again, her eyes coming to
rest on a closed door at the opposite end of
the foyer, away from the crowd.

“

Come on,” she said. “I wanted to talk to

you. Here, where it’s quieter.”

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I could barely nod as I followed. I was be-

side her, my gaze running up her bare legs to
where her dress cloaked her ass, its perfect
globes an echo of her perfect tits. This was
the body etched into my mind over three
thousand mornings of waking with my cock
in my hand, stroking myself to hardness as
Mareta filled my memory and I filled that
memory in turn.

I felt her hand slip into mine as we

reached the door. My mouth was dry. I felt
every dream, every fantasy suddenly sur-
rounding me, pressing in so that I was hav-
ing trouble catching my breath. I could
barely read the sign on the door saying “Pool
Access — Staff Only.” Then the door was
open and closed behind us, and we were
alone.

She pulled me to her before we could make

it another step along the shadowed, silent
corridor we found ourselves in. I looked
down into her eyes, feeling nothing but

32/61

anxiety and a ten-year-old fear twist through
me. But her mysterious smile told me she
saw something else as leaned up to kiss me.

I felt my jacket and tie come off as she

dragged me down the hall toward the first in
a series of doors. I felt her breasts thrust up
against me, my hands groping her like I was
eighteen again, overwhelmed by the raw con-
tact between us that already had my cock
rock-hard in my pants. I didn’t see a sign on
the second door, but as we passed through it,
I recognized the features of a family change-
room. Benches and lockers, folded white
towels on low shelves, a bathroom stall and
shower. I also saw the deadbolt on the door,
which she cranked over as her smile
widened.

Then she was against me again, her mouth

on me, pushing wet and warm against my
lips. Our tongues entwined, my voice loud in
the dark as I moaned.

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This is what I had dreamed of. Ten long

years of waiting, and this was the night. But
still, the same fear that had kept me circling
around Mareta in high school like a puppy
following its mother lived in me. I felt it still
lurking, still uncertain, still struggling to be
heard.

And so I gasped out at one point, “Are you

sure?” Because in the grasp of the fear, I felt
like I needed to say something, anything. I
was already planning out the various and
exotic ways that I’d be killing myself later if
she suddenly looked thoughtful and said,
“Now that you mention it…”

But she said nothing in response. She just

kicked off her shoes and tossed her purse
aside as she gave me her smile again, the
smile I remembered from uncounted sum-
mer nights. Then she pulled her dress off at
the shoulders, the red silk spilling down
against dark skin, carrying the strapless lace
bra with it and revealing what lay beneath.

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I gasped as she showed me what I’d been

waiting to see since I was a teenager. Her
breasts were magnificent, as full and firm in
their natural state as I had always guessed,
as I had always remembered in all my
dreams. Her swollen nipples were chocolate-
cherry dark in the pale light, her skin smooth
and moist, but with a faint flush that spoke
to the passion in her as strong as it was in
me. As I dropped to my knees, I tasted that
skin, licking a salty sweetness from her as I
found each of her nipples with my tongue in
turn.

“

I’ve dreamed about this,” I whispered as I

came up for air. “I’ve dreamed this for so
long.” She had her breasts held firm in both
hands, pressing them close for me to lose
myself in.

“

You’re not dreaming anymore,” she

whispered back. “I waited for you.”

We stripped off the rest of our clothing in

a frenzy that I don’t remember. She grabbed

35/61

towels from the shelf, tossing them to cover
the floor at our feet. We stood naked before
each other, her smile radiant as her eyes
strayed across me. Her gaze lingered down
below, my cock as huge and hard as it had
ever been. She licked her lips as her hands
found my chest, stroking down and around
in small circles, but not getting any closer to
my sex.

“

You can touch it,” I said with a smile, and

she did. As her hands wrapped me softly, I
felt a shudder twist through her. My cock
was throbbing, pulsing beneath her gentle
touch. I moaned as my gaze took in every
part of her, her breasts hanging pendulous
and perfect, her narrow waist and flat belly
pointing the way to the shadowed cleft
between her legs. Her pussy was trimmed
tight from the sides and top but left long
around her slit. That delicious strip of ma-
hogany curls was calling my name.

36/61

Without a word, without needing to talk at

all, I motioned her to the bench. She sat and
spread, and then I was between her legs and
eating her like a starving man. She was wet-
ter than I ever could have imagined, the pink
inner labia of her dark pussy dripping as I
licked her. Each touch of my tongue on her
pulsing clit sent a shiver through her, so that
I pressed her harder, faster each time until
she was shuddering uncontrollably as she
held tight to my head.

When she couldn’t take any more, she

pushed me away forcefully, gasping for
breath as I licked the taste of her sweet slit
from my lips. She slid to the floor, spinning
around to wrap my head with her legs. And
as she pushed her crotch down onto my face,
I felt her lips wrap my cock like the touch of
softest velvet.

I had to eat her hard to keep myself from

screaming. My mouth was clamped to her,
sucking her entire pubic mound at once to

37/61

muffle my cries as she fellated me. I was
blind with pleasure, conscious only of the
rhythmic thrust of her hips against me, and
the musky scent of her sweet pussy as it
drenched me, and the slow strokes of her
mouth as she swallowed my rigid dick.

At some point, she came, her low groans

building to a fever pitch that I felt shivering
through my erection. I had to push her off
me when she was done, her firm thighs
clamped to me so fiercely that I was strug-
gling to breathe. So she swung around, twist-
ing herself around my erection without it
ever leaving her mouth. I got to watch her
then, and the thrill of seeing my purple-hard
cock slip between those dark lips was enough
to almost bring me to the brink then and
there.

Like she sensed that, she slowed, taking

her time as she tongued me. She was laugh-
ing, grinning, delirious with the carnal hun-
ger that kept her working me top to bottom,

38/61

then back again. Starting with my balls, she
sucked and licked gently, her tongue climb-
ing my shaft in slow circles that eventually
found the tight sleeve of my foreskin and
slipped within.

The feeling as she peeled me was indes-

cribable. Her hand was at my balls now,
squeezing hard as she took me back into her
mouth full on. She was open wide, her lips
stretched around me to take my girth. I felt
my head hit bottom so quickly at the back of
her mouth, but then she kept going, pushing
gently. Moaning as she forced herself onto
me.

I screamed as I came. I had never felt an

orgasm come upon me so quickly, with so
little warning. I heard her choke as I shot,
the pressure feeling like it was pushing me
out of her mouth, though that was really her
hands driving me back. I don’t remember the
last time I shot so long or so hard, gleaming
tracks of cum streaking her face and her

39/61

breasts as she licked my whiteness from her
lips with a smile.

But then I saw the smile break just a bit as

she slid down to the floor beside me, embra-
cing me as she grabbed a towel to wipe her
face.

“

I’m sorry,” she whispered as she cleaned

herself. “I wanted to wait. I’m sorry.” But in
her voice, there was more than apology. Un-
certainty? Guilt?

“

It’s okay,” I said. I was still fully erect,

and assuming that with a little bit of stimula-
tion, I would stay that way. However, the
emotional cost of my orgasm had drained me
completely, leaving me fighting to breathe. “I
just need a minute,” I said.

“

It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

I got to watch her rise above me, her mag-

nificent breasts jiggling as she stood. I got to
watch her run the towel over her firm body
once more, then drop it to tent across my
still-hard cock.

40/61

I couldn’t move, just lying there as I heard

the door to the bathroom stall click shut. I
tried to take stock. I tried to actually process
what had just happened. I felt more alive
than I ever had, more buoyant, more full of
the energy of life than I had in long years.
Ten years, to be exact. This was a miracle.
This was a dream come true, in the most lit-
eral sense of all those words.

I heard the click of the stall again behind

me.

“

Hey,” I said. My heart was still beating

fast. I tried to muster the energy to sit up.

Then I heard the deadbolt and the door.
By the time I struggled to my feet, she was

gone. The red dress, the shoes, the purse had
been collected as she slipped to the stall. She
had changed and gone.

I was frantic as I dressed. I couldn’t think.

I was unable suddenly to process any of what
was going on, so that it seemed for a time
like this might be a dream in its own right.

41/61

But the ache in my cock and the taste of her
pussy as I quickly washed my face told the
real story. I checked myself in the mirror,
struggling to hand-comb my hair before I
fled.

Beyond the staff door, the foyer had filled

with even more people, so that scanning the
crowd meant having to press through it.
Even as I did, though, my mind registered
the complete absence of the telltale combina-
tion of red silk and dark skin in the crowd.
The auditorium was the likely place to look,
but I was flustered by the number of other
doors within line of sight that she might have
disappeared through.

I pushed forward, trying to keep my com-

posure. Trying to look around me with a cas-
ualness that belied the pounding of my heart.

And then I saw her. Mareta.

42/61

I wouldn’t have recognized her, not

without the nametag she was in the process
of pinning to the sheer white cocktail dress
she wore. It set off the cocoa-butter tones of
her skin nicely, her features softened some-
what by time but still familiar. Her hair was
short, gone back to the tight curls she had
only rarely worn as a teenager.

“

Mareta…” I must have said it louder than

I’d intended, watching her turn back toward
me from a dozen feet away. Her eyes met
mine blankly, glancing down to my lapel in
search of the nametag that wasn’t there.

“

Hi,” she said, leaving the word hanging.

Waiting for me to tell her who I was.

“

Jason,” I said. Only then did I see a flick-

er of recognition in her eyes. Recognition,
but nothing else.

“

Jason,” she said. “Wow, you look great.

It’s so nice to see you again.”

The smile Mareta gave me was as false, as

empty as anything I’d ever felt before. I took

43/61

her in at a glance, feeling a kind of focus
come over me as I drew on the strength of all
the dreams, all the memories. In my mind, I
placed all the images of the girl I had lusted
after over top of the woman who stood in
front of me of now. The perfect C-cup breasts
that had I spilled a thousand imaginary cum
shots onto had morphed into melon-like Ds,
the obvious and artificial signs of surgery
lifting them abnormally and unattractively
high. Her eyeliner, blush, and lipstick were
professionally applied to an excess that
drained all the life from her face.

I caught the look in her eyes that told me I

had stared just a moment too long.

“

Well,” she said. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

And without bothering to wait for a re-
sponse, Mareta was gone.

44/61

Part Four

I stood in shock for a while. At the fourth or
fifth “Excuse me” as people pressed past me
on their way to the auditorium, I stumbled
back toward the wall, turning from the crowd
and past the main tables.

A guy I thought I might have vaguely re-

membered from junior year chess club
caught my eye as I passed. “Hey, don’t forget
your name tag, dude,” he called, but I just
shook my head as I stumbled past.

The woman I’d met hadn’t worn a name

tag. It was a too-obvious thought, twisting in
my mind as I stumbled out the doors to the
parking lot and toward my car. A thought
that might have come to me a lot sooner if
not for how badly my mind had been com-
promised by the dreams. All the empty shad-
ows taking the place of reason, making it

impossible to focus. The other woman, look-
ing so much like Mareta that she filled that
space in my memory in a heartbeat. The wo-
man who knew how I felt about Mareta, to
an apparently greater degree than Mareta
did herself.

I saw her standing beside the Lexus. She

was in the red dress but wore no jacket, arms
wrapped tight around herself against the
chill. I felt a different kind of chill twist
through me, even as a familiar thickening
rooted in my groin at the memory of being
against her, inside her, tasting her.

Where she watched me from the shadows,

Mareta’s younger sister Kim smiled. She’d
been crying, her face wet where she wiped at
it with the back of one arm.

“

I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t right.”

“

No. It was…” I didn’t know what to say,

didn’t know how to sum up what I was feel-
ing right now. I stared at her, recognizing her
now and immediately for who she was. The

46/61

differences between Kim and her sister were
so obvious even when she and I had dated,
that I realized exactly how desperately and
completely the fantasies of the last ten years
had taken over my mind. Making me see
Mareta in that first desperate moment be-
cause I’d forgotten how to look for anyone
else.

“

Why?” I said, because the question was

all I had.

“

Because I’ve thought about you pretty

much all the last ten years. And because I’m
the facilities manager at the rec center, and
when I saw on the reunion guest list that you
were coming, I knew you were coming for
her. And all I could think about was how
much I wished it was me instead.”

I stepped up to where she stood. She was

shivering, her nipples thrust up against the
sheer silk of her dress. As my glance strayed
down and past, I saw the faint sheen of wet-
ness kissing the inside of her thighs.

47/61

Suddenly realizing how stupidly I was star-
ing, I keyed the car locks as I pulled my jack-
et off and set it over her shoulders.

“

You should get in. You’re freezing.”

Kim did as I suggested, shutting the door

as I numbly walked around to slip in the
driver’s side. I started the car and cranked
the heat, both of us sitting in silence, just
staring out the windshield as the engine
warmed up.

“

She was messing with you pretty much all

through high school,” Kim said at last. I
heard her voice as if from a distance, forcing
myself to turn to her. Not because I was
afraid to look, I realized, but because I
couldn’t stop thinking now about how beau-
tiful she was. Tonight and ten years ago.

Ten years gone now. I couldn’t stop think-

ing about how stupid I was.

“

She was keeping you around because you

had the cool car and apparently had no prob-
lem doing her homework for her. She used to

48/61

talk about how easy you were to string along.
Flash a little cleavage, accidentally run her
hand along your thigh as she was sitting
down beside you. She said that when she
sensed you getting close to actually trying for
her, she’d tell you how much she wanted you
to try, and it would knock you right back.”

The car was parked a few spaces down

from a tower light whose cool gleam filtered
through the tinted windows. Shadow danced
across Kim’s features as she turned to look at
me. And under the weight of her gaze, I felt a
sudden shifting in the field of memories that
were the foundations of the last ten years of
my life. I heard them crack, saw them begin
to fall.

“

That… makes sense.”

“

She was banging Rob Fitzgerald all the

time up till prom. When, apparently, he
dumped her because she balked at the idea
of doing a gangbang with him and the rest of
the front four. She kept him secret because

49/61

she knew our dad would tear his neckless
head right off. Dad liked you, though.”

“

You seem to have a very wide-ranging

knowledge of your sister’s personal life.”

“

Yeah. I read her diary, because that’s

what little sisters do, right? I kind of thought
you’d figure all that stuff out at some point. I
was hoping you asking me out when you
were in senior year meant you had figured it
out. Some of it, anyway.”

“

No,” was all I could say. I turned away

from her, staring to the darkness outside my
side window. And like she could hear the
sound of the collapse of everything I was and
had ever been, Kim leaned in close to me
across the console. She took my head in her
hands, forcing me to turn back toward her.
She looked me in the eye.

“

My sister was a bitch,” she said. “My sis-

ter remains a bitch. You were too good for
her by an order of magnitude. You deserved
better.” Then she kissed me again. I was

50/61

aware suddenly of the faint taste of her sweet
pussy still in my mouth as the salt tang of my
own cum was slipped across to me on her
tongue. I was already getting hard as she
pulled away.

“

You deserve me,” she said. “I waited for

you.”

The car had warmed up while she spoke,

but Kim was still shivering as she pushed the
passenger seat back, her hand in mine as she
drew me over to her. I had to twist to get
across the console, but the roomy front of the
Lexus gave me plenty of space to kneel on
the floor in front of her. Kim’s legs were
spread, the red dress hiking up as she tugged
at it. She had no underwear on, her pussy a
dark tangle where the faint light from out-
side turned to shadow.

“

I waited for you,” she said. “Fuck me.”

Her smile came back as I pulled my pants

down, popping a button in my haste. My
cock was fully hard but still lengthening, Kim

51/61

reaching for it, squeezing tight with one
hand as she tore my shirt open, buttons fly-
ing. I leaned in to kiss her, and as I did, I felt
her draw my erection toward her. The wet
touch of her labia set a shiver through me
like an electric shock.

“

Fuck me,” she whispered. I reached be-

neath her, grabbing two handfuls of her
magnificent ass as I plunged inside her. She
cried out with the reassuring exclamation of
her pleasure as my cock filled her wet pussy
to the hilt and I held there. I groaned as I felt
myself throbbing inside her, feeling her lurch
against me, trying to fuck me back, but she
was pinned tight beneath me.

“

Fuck me,” Kim whispered. “Don’t make

me wait any more…”

I kissed her deep, tasting the hunger inside

her as I began to slowly pump.

As I worked my way in and out of her, she

pulled what was left of my shirt off me,
squirming to lift her dress over her head. Her

52/61

bra was pulled askew by the effort, so I
pulled my hands from her ass to help it the
rest of the way. Unhooking it in the front, I
discarded its smooth lace as Kim’s incredible
breasts swung free. I bent close to clamp my-
self to them, her nipples rubbing against my
chest as I picked up my pace.

I watched her expression, listened to her

breathing as I alternated my depth inside
her. I gave her a half-dozen short, fast
strokes with just my head, leaving my fore-
skin and her labia clutching at each other
like they were afraid to let go. Then a half-
dozen deep thrusts opened her up com-
pletely, the look of astonishment in her wide-
open eyes telling me it felt as good for her as
it did for me. Then short again, then deep,
pumping in and out of her in a rhythm that
had her eyes and mouth open wide.

Naked and glistening with the sweat of our

exertion, we ground against each other as the
shadowed light at the windows washed

53/61

across us. Not caring that we were in a public
parking lot in the midst of two hundred oth-
er cars. Not caring that five hundred people
stood inside the rec center whose doors were
less than thirty yards away. Thinking only
about the hunger in us, thinking only about
how much time had been wasted while we
found each other again. Thinking about how
good it felt to fuck now, as horny as the teen-
agers neither of us had ever had the chance
to be with each other.

The deeper I took her, the deeper Kim

wanted it. She came the first time with her
legs wrapped around my ass, then a second
time with her feet at my shoulders as her
thighs pressed back and let me hit bottom in
her. I’d never been so hard before. I’d never
seen my cock look so long before, pulling out
all the way to see the look of hunger in her
eyes before I plunged in again.

The third time she came, she was riding

me, our positions switched. I was sitting on

54/61

the slick-wet leather as she straddled me, the
windows of the car totally fogged over with
the exertion of our passion. The fourth time,
she had turned to sit on me backwards, my
cock curving up inside her wetness as she
ground her ass against my legs and I cupped
her tits from behind, sucking at the back of
her neck while she moaned.

All that long night, I felt the chaos of

change inside me as new memories replaced
the old.

I remember Kim working me again with

her mouth, tasting her own sweet pussy on
me as she licked me top to bottom and back
again. When she sucked me, my cock was so
hard that she couldn’t get past my head, her
eyes and her mouth open equally wide as she
groaned.

I remember Kim bent over before me in

the back seat, her legs tight together as I
fucked her hard from behind.

55/61

I remember leaning back as she straddled

and rode me again, her amazing tits boun-
cing in front of my mouth like the most lus-
cious fruit.

I remember when I finally came, holding

off for what seemed like forever by virtue of
the intensity of my orgasm in the change-
room just an hour before. I pulled out of Kim
as I shot, spraying once more across those
magnificent tits with a scream of absolute
pleasure.

I remember us dressing amid tears and

laughter, both of us spent and sore and kiss-
ing each other like it was our first time. I re-
member driving with Kim’s hand in my fly,
stroking my semi-hard dick as we raced
breathlessly back to the hotel. I remember
trying to maintain some degree of compos-
ure as we walked in past the front desk, my
jacket done up to hide the fact that my shirt
had no buttons anymore, Kim’s luscious tits
threatening to pop out of her dress because

56/61

we’d had to use her bra and my underwear to
clean the cum from us both.

I remember falling into the bed, the two of

us just holding each other as we kissed for
what seemed like forever. I remember eating
Kim again. I remember stuffing my swollen
cock into her mouth again. I remember fuck-
ing her over and over, until we fell asleep in
each other’s arms, and she was the only
dream I had that incredible night.

Now, the new dreams at the center of my

life are things that need no revision, ten
years after the reunion and nine years after
the quiet wedding that’s been the foundation
of every day Kim and I have spent together
since.

The ceremony was small, just a few friends

and family. And as has been the thankful
case for every day and night and dream since
the reunion, Mareta wasn’t there.

57/61

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sean Gerard Leah (though he more often
works under a cleverly similar name) is a
Boston-born, Seattle-based novelist, poet,
journalist, and editor. With his wife Caelyn
Alba, he is a founding partner of the erotic-lit
publishing house Muse of Shadow.

Table of Contents

TEN YEARS GONE
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
About the Author

Table of Contents

TEN YEARS GONE
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
About the Author

@Created by

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