I met Julia in the lobby, and my heart nearly stopped when I saw her drift toward me, the cotton dress of muted pastels billowing gently around her summer-bare legs. She was every bit as graceful as I remembered her from the second grade. I kissed her on both cheeks and hugged her tight. Gone were her horn-rimmed glasses in my pictures. She was fuller than the teacher I recalled and I loved how she looked and felt, pleasantly soft to my touch, womanly at the hips. Her hair was shoulder-length, a tousled, honey blonde. Once more, my mouth was dry. So many years, so much water under the bridge. We were tucked away in a cozy corner of the restaurant as I had requested, in flickering candlelight, and we sipped our wine and ate our meals almost in slow motion. It was over coffee and dessert that I showed Julia my report card. She was touched that it has meant so much to me over the years, and when she slid it back across to me, our fingers met, and she placed hers over mine, patting. And even as my hips quickened and the sweep of my orgasm began to dull my brain, that thought lit up my heart and then broke it as the realization that even though my feelings were real, so were hers and they weren’t for me. She gasped and I looked down at her, ‘Charlie?’ She whispered and her eyes dulled as her back arched and she came hard. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Not the first time, not with just my cock to stimulate her. But Amy didn’t know that. I felt her clench down on me, and then it was me who babbled nonsense words and gasped out her name as I slammed back into her pussy and held myself there as I filled the condom with cum. There was no thought now, nothing but this, nothing but Amy. Dimly I heard her calling my name again, but it was her warm hands kneading my back that made me realize that I was in danger of crushing her. I was still sort of resting on my elbows, but it was close. With a last burst of strength I slid my arms around her and flipped us over, still.
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