I didn't think I'd see her again.
And I certainly didn't think I'd see her at the station, at seven in the evening, in front of a coffee machine.
I look at her.
She looks at me.
And that's enough to make me realize that not that much time has passed at all.
"Oh..." she says, with that half-smile that always split me in two, "...you haven't improved."
"You have, though," I reply.
"I know."
She never changes.
And even though I should turn and leave, I stay rooted there.
"What are you doing here?" I ask her.
"Catching a train."
"And before?"
"Before, nothing. Before was boredom. Then I saw you."
She walks past me, too close to be accidental.
Her perfume is the same, exhilarating to death.
"Do you have half an hour?" she asks without looking at me.
"Maybe."
I don't know why I follow her, but I do.
She's always been good at making me move without giving me orders.
Her cleavage has always tremendously excited me.
The way she looks at me.
Those eyes can make me hard instantly.
As we approach the broken door of the old underpass, I realize that yes, I still remember everything.
We stop in the darkest part, where the lights only make a tired electrical hum.
She turns to me, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and appraises me as if I were merchandise on display.
"Don't ask me any questions, okay?" she says.
"I don't even know why I'm here."
"Maybe you do know."
"Maybe I do."
She comes closer to me.
Her hand on my collar, her breath on mine, the way she tilts her head before saying something stupid or important.
Or both.
In my pants, meanwhile, something was starting to wake up.
Her hand slips down, as if it were the most natural thing.
I understand everything from the way she looks at me.
She still has a strong desire for my cock.
Meanwhile, the kiss comes naturally.
It happens.
It happens because it had to happen.
As she puts her tongue in my mouth, she gropes me through my jeans.
Our bodies seek each other out as if they had a long and stubborn memory.
No need to say anything else.
It's not sweet.
It's not romantic.
It's something urgent, pure excitement.
"Do you still live near the laundry?"
"Of course..."
"Let's go there then..."
I remain still for a second, I shouldn't have.
But in the end, I take her hand, adjust myself for a moment, and we go.
We go up to my place, and before we even enter, we're intertwined, lost in an exciting kiss.
She leans against the wall and whispers:
"Okay... this was a terrible idea."
I smile.
"One of our best terrible ideas."
She nods.
"Probably."
My cock is rock hard again.
For a moment, she's back to her old self, the one who doesn't ask for permission for anything.
We move to the bedroom, she starts masturbating me on the bed.
I kiss her neck, then she lies down and I pull down her pants, not entirely, just enough for me to slip my fingers in.
I hear her moan and it's just like it's always been.
I'm out of my mind, meanwhile I kiss her and she begs me to go faster.
I please her.
"I want to suck it..."
I smile as I completely take off my pants.
"Lie down, I want to suck it all..."
She starts giving me the most provocative blowjob ever, like she's never done before.
Her head moves up and down and just seeing this scene would make me cum, I tell her to move sideways so that in the meantime I can touch her too.
We climax together, and we look for the perfect moment to come at the same time.
I'm too excited to last any longer and that mouth wrapping around my penis doesn't help.
"Aaaahh."
I'm the first to come, I've wanted to explode for half an hour.
I remain messy, but I continue to touch her while she moans and still has my cock in her hands.
Then she contracts.
She smiles and collapses onto the bed, exhausted.
