Stroking for the Tease (Part 1)

My college girlfriend and I met at an outdoor cafe late in the afternoon. We hadn't even spoken for four years, and it had been six years since we broke up. A friend told me she had moved to the city and he thought she might want to get together, so I figured, what the hell?

As soon as I saw her, I was stunned. She probably lost 15 pounds since I'd seen her last. In college, she played soccer and she was tall but so muscular (with legs to die for) that it gave her an almost stocky appearance. Maturity had melted away some of the hard exterior and her high but full (34-c) breasts seemed bigger against her leaner, lither physique. Her hair was longer, now, too, cascading down her face and curving inward below her chin in glistening coal-black strands that framed her intense blue Irish eyes.

The first hour or so, we babbled and rediscovered one another and said things like, 'I can't believe how GOOD you look' and so on. She was working for a PR firm near the trading firm where I worked. I found myself trying to show off for her again-obliquely mentioning my recent promotion, talking about my new apartment. She was touching my elbow for emphasis and I let my hand fall to her knee one time in response. Her skin felt so smooth and soft but I could still feel the ripple of those fierce sprinting muscles as I withdrew it slowly, letting my fingertips press into her legs as I did. The hem of her sundress was at midthigh and I stiffened in my pants as I looked at the even more distinct contours of those lean, rippling legs.

She lowered her gaze at me and staring chidingly up through her bangs. 'Now now,' she said. 'I have a boyfriend.'

I had been feeling a totally different chemistry-and she hadn't mentioned him until 90 minutes into the conversation-so I decided that was more of a challenge than a warning.

'So tell me about this boyfriend of yours,' I said. 'Why isn't he here with you instead of me?'

'Because he's still in North Carolina,' she began, and I listened without really paying any attention, my mind already undressing her, remembering how her pert nipples would stiffen in my mouth as I fingered her and my thumb traced slow circles on her stiffening clit.

'...and he's much longer than you, but not so nearly as thick,' she said-and I stopped daydreaming. 'When he fucks me, he touches me somewhere deeper than I've been touched before, and I orgasm without even having to touch my clit.'

WHOA.

'You seemed to like that fine when I did it,' I said. I was startled by two emotions at once. First, I was hurt that she had just said some other guy had a bigger dick, but second, the thought of having a meaningless hookup with the first love of my life suddenly overtook me. 'You seemed to like me fine, too, I said,' moving a little closer and looking at the way her lips were parting just a little bit. I thought about kissing her and pulling her firm body against me.

I usually masturbate before work, but I'd overslept that morning, and my cock was now straining in my loose boxer briefs, becoming quickly and thickly obvious in my suit pants.

'You have a beautiful cock,' she said. 'I do miss it...' Her knee pressed against mine. 'I tell him about how thick you are when we're having sex,' she said.

'You WHAT?' I laughed, unable to conceal my shock. What she couldn't see was how successful she was at making me feel jealous and beloved at the same time, and suddenly everything I had wanted for six years was flooding back from my heart and my brain and my dick got fatter and stiffer to the point where it was now an embarrassing tent on the left side of my lap.

'He's a little bit bi, I think,' she giggled, 'and he has to hear about me with another guy to have an orgasm. He's not like you, either-much wetter and doesn't last as long, and when he talks about your fat cock, his stuff shoots everywhere ... I have to be careful with him.'

'He talks about me?' I asked-weirdly, the thought that he had to listen to her talk about my cock inside her while he was actually in her didn't make me jealous...it made me really, really hot.

'I guess you're the one I compared him to for the first year we were dating, and I made him really insecure,' she said. She crossed her legs and her sundress hiked up enough that I could-almost but not quite-see the curve behind her hamstring...

I could barely even respond...I was so turned on, I was breathing in shallow little breaths, my dick leaking precum all over the vertex of the big bulge in my suit.

'We had phone sex twice when I told him I was meeting you for drinks. It turned him on so much he did himself twice...it made me cum, too, you know.'

I think I must have made a quiet moaning sound. I was involuntarily thrusting my hips a little bit, pushing my cock forward into the tacky surface of my now-soaked boxers to tickle it even more.

'He even told me what outfit he wanted me to wear, asked if I would tell him how hard you got...and I was more than happy to oblige.'

Who WAS this perverted, kinky, self-assured version of my ex??? I leaned in to kiss her and she put her finger on my chin and gently pushed me away.

'But,' she said, 'he told me no touching.'

'You're going to let him tell you what to do?' I asked, trying to conceal my disappointment, but also trying to keep myself from having an orgasm right there...I was so, so turned on by this bizarre encounter.

'Will let you tell me what to do?' she asked, grazing my bulge with the outstretched palm of her hand. I throbbed to her touch. My mouth was so dry I could only nod.

'Then let's go to your apartment...'

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