Page 10 of July
8
Charity
Garrett and I used to be very familiar with every inch of each other’s bodies. We thoroughly explored and pleasured each other with our hands and mouths when we were younger, but we always stopped just short of having intercourse. We came very close a few times, but always held back from that final step––waiting for a perfect, special moment that never came.
Years of waiting and wondering have culminated in this night. The mere idea of finally being intimate with Garrett makes my entire body zing with anticipation as he leads me to his apartment.
He wasn’t kidding when he said it was messy. Colorful plastic toys are strewn on the floor and dirty dishes are piled in the sink. I like picturing him playing with Silas, rather than worrying about cleaning up during the limited amount of time he gets with his son.
“Sorry about the chaos,” he mutters.
“It’s evidence that you don’t simply plop Silas in front of a screen for entertainment. I always knew you’d be a terrific, involved dad,” I tell him honestly.
From the proud look on his face, it’s obvious that my compliment of his parenting skills means a great deal to him. He reaches out to brush his thumb along my jawline before saying, “And I’ve always been able to picture you as a wonderful mother. That mama-bear instinct you had for defending younger or bullied kids at school comes naturally to you. I know you’ll care for and protect your children like no other.”
His kind words fill me with pride. I want nothing more than to be a loving mother to a whole bunch of precious, adorable children.
Proving that his memory is excellent, Garrett asks me, “Do you still want enough kids to start your own volleyball team?”
At my nod, he asks quietly, “Is there room in your heart and on that volleyball team for an extremely lovable stepson?”
“Garrett.” I say his name quietly and with a bit of a disapproving tone because it’s too soon to even be thinking of such things.
He moves closer to me as he justifies the outlandish question. “That’s our future, Charity. I can see it as clearly as if it has already happened. Can’t you?”
His gaze is filled with hope as he stares at me and awaits my answer. When I say, “Yes,” his shoulders sag with relief, so I hold up my pointer finger. “But that’s only one possible outcome. There are plenty of others.”
“It’s the only outcome that makes any sense, and it’s the only one I’ll accept,” he growls before tipping his head down to crush his lips to mine.
The objection falls from my lips as my brain turns to mush from his wonderful, mind-melding kiss. We shuffle our way to his sofa as we continue kissing. He pulls away just long enough to shove the cardboard books from the cushions to the floor, and I immediately miss his lips and tongue on mine.
Proving that he missed our kissing, too, he lunges for me and we fall together onto the sofa. It feels just like the old days as we kiss and grope each other. Our bodies fit together seamlessly, and having Garrett’s possessive touch on me is like no other.
We loosen and remove our clothing piece by piece. Each brush of his hands across my skin sends a crackling sensation of anticipation and need blasting through my system. By the time we’ve both stripped down to our underwear, we are breathing hard with desperation for more.
His hard length nudges at me with just the thin fabric of our underwear separating us. Feeling his body pressing into mine is so familiar, it’s as if no time has passed since we created stolen moments as teenagers to love each other in one of our cars or hidden away in my bedroom.
It’s different this time, though, because we don’t have to stop. This time, Garrett can plunge all the way inside me. We can fully connect as one––like I’ve always desired.
He trails his fingers along my side and down between us. When he feels my soaked panties, he groans, “Ah, Charity… You’re so wet for me.”
I slide my hands beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and squeeze his ass cheeks, pulling him closer into me. “And you’re so hard for me.”
“Yes,” he breathes out near my ear before trailing kisses down my neck and chest.
With a quick flick, he unhooks the front clasp of my bra. He stares reverently down at my breasts before claiming one with his mouth and the other with his hand. His touch on me feels so good––so natural and right.
I cry out in surprised delight when his teeth lightly scrape across my hardened nipple. The anxious, eager-to-please teenager Garrett used to be has turned into a confident, bold man, who seems to know exactly what I need––even before I do.
He must have gained these breathtaking new skills with other lovers, but I force that disturbing thought from my mind. The only thing that matters right now is the two of us and the immense pleasure we can bring each other from finally satiating the desperate craving we’ve had for each other for so many years.
When he begins kissing his way down my body, I take in a deep, shuddering breath. It’s been far too long since I’ve had Garrett’s mouth on my most intimate parts. Only he can make my body quiver and quake with bliss, and I need the release his talented tongue can so effortlessly give me.
He glides his palm down the side of my hip, taking with it the lacy wisp of fabric that covers me. Once I’m bare before him, he pauses to stare down at me as he gently spreads my knees apart and traces a finger up my inner thigh and along my seam.
When he looks back up to lock eyes with me, his gaze is filled with awe and delight. His voice is deep and filled with lust when he says, “I’ve missed your delectable pussy so much.”
He emphasizes his risqué statement by lowering his face to me. I’m instantly lost––writhing and moaning as he devours me like he’s been starving.
