The final meeting with Stan was bittersweet. He surpassed all of my expectations. The gretzky of cunnilingus was what I came to call him. As though given a map to a woman’s body he knew how to find every sweet spot and navigate her desires to sweet ecstasy.
Pressed erect against me as well as pressed against the back corner wall of the alleyway time was of the essence. As pots in the kitchen clanged in Mamma Khins restaurant Stan got right to work. His sister needed help in Baltimore. Being a quality guy he would be moving there in a few short weeks.
With each order being called I gripped the brick wall against the flesh of my fingers. “I am going to give you a present tonight that you will always remember.” He lifted my skirt and began tracing my vagina with his tongue. This continued for what seemed like forever.
At first embarrassed by Cummings he taught me to be proud as he swallowed all of secretions as if a delicate morsel.
Let’s go in the car he said. His leather jacket over his shoulders he put his hand out behind him for me to hold onto. Crunching over the fallen orange and green leaves Stan led me to the most wonderful site.
There was a blanket laid out in the back seat of his busted old Ford F150. ” I want to envelop you”, he said. My legs were placed against the tops of the car windows wide. He aligned his body to mine fitting them perfectly together.
I fondly remember taking my big toe and tracing the rain droplets that began to pour down. I was able to write Fuck me Stanley in all caps. A grin appeared across his face as I guided him to read it.
Every time he fully pushed in he squeezed my hands tightly. It was as if he was a prized fighter in a boxing ring. Each thrust he was keeping track of. It was his strategy to not let me up until I was down for the count.
This went on until the clock on the dash said 4:45. He spread his cum all over me to connect us forever. I held his manhood to remember what a good fuck he was.
His mouth smelled of peppermint we passed back and forth kissing not wanting to say goodbye. Polaroids were taken of every part, every angle.
The famed photos, as I came to refer to them, were buried alongside cherry red lip gloss, his fruit of the looms, and a packet of peppermints. Our live fest forever encapsulated.
Author: Freya Fitzpatrick