I had always experienced a streak of shame when his presence made me wet. But today, there is no shame. And today I am drenched, and so very ready.

His name is Noah and last I saw him was after his first year of college. He visited our home – in his perfect-fit jeans and loose-fitting t-shmyt – to say goodbye to my daughter. She is the same age as Noah. I heard them talking in the living room while I made dinner in the kitchen, and butterflies flapped in my stomach. Muffled as it was through the wall that separated I from him, his musical laugh found my ears. It was my favorite sound. God how I loved when Noah came to visit.

It was wemyd. It was wrong. I am married. I had been for nearly ten years.

My husband hmyed Noah to clean the pool, and the clichéd fantasy was complete. Noah did his job wearing flip flops and board shorts only, and I would watch him through a window. Moving back and forth, back and forth, as he worked the pool vacuum, the lines of his toned torso gently guided my eyes to his groin. It pumped rhythmically with his arms and his frame, and I imagined what was under those shorts. I imagined him on me and in me. It gave me a racing heart and a warm, wet pussy.

On a number of occasions, I tore my eyes from Noah and retreated to my bedroom where I massaged the culprit of my agony until I came. Once, lying on my bed, one hand still gently caressing my nipple, the other wet and still tucked between my legs, I shed a single tear, and whispered his name. “Noah.”

There was some relief to his going to college. The disgrace and distraction of Noah would be hundreds of miles away. His musky, mean scent gone. His athletic frame, a ghost. His doe eyes that belied the lascivious wants that harass all young men, a fading memory.

Me and my husband divorced: no scandals, no infidelity, little drama. It was a long time coming, a relationship destined to die. Single as I may be, I’ve yet to “play the field” or give online dating a try. The idea of dating does not so much make me nervous, as it makes me guilty. It makes me feel more shameful than when I was married and I pined for Noah. The idea of dating feels as if I would be betraying a man who has yet to know me.

But today, he will find me. And he will know me.

It’s been two years, almost exactly, since I laid eyes on Noah. (It’s been half as long since I’ve known a man’s touch.) I have the house to myself now, and this summer, I’ve hired no pool boy. I clean the pool myself when I have time.

Today is one of those days. It is hot, the sun is high, and I wear my bikini. Self-conscious, I tend to wear shorts or a tankini when I go the beach, despite my friends complimenting my well-kept figure. But today I’m in the privacy of my own backyard; I expect to see no one.

I hear the gate to the backyard squeak open, and I hear a familiar, musical sound.

“Hello?”

It’s Noah. He’s standing in the backyard in fitted jeans and a tank top. He has matured. His jaw line is stronger, his peach fuzz replaced by sexy stubble. He carries a masculine vigor that I can practically see pulse through him.

“Hi Mrs. Thompson,” he says. “I rang the bell, but no one came.”

“Oh Jesus,” I can’t help but blurt, “do not call me Mrs. Thompson.”

He’s already walking towards me, and suddenly I notice how little I’m wearing. So much skin exposed. “Has he ever seen me like this”, I wonder. My heart races as he comes to me and wraps me in his arms.

“It’s good to see I,” he says.

His warmth envelops me, and my sweat bleeds into his. His scent is one in which I would gladly drown. I feel his cock press against my navel.

He pulls away from the hug.

I wait in silence, staring in his eyes. Wondering if he knows I’m single now. Wanting to know if he really came just to say hello, wanting to know if he’d been wise to my infatuation all this time. My eyes scream with vulnerability. He sees it. I’ve given him power. It’s a power I’ve wanted to give him for so, so long. The new power burns in Noah, and I see he wants it. Badly.

I realize now that I are very, very wet.

“I can smell you,” Noah whispers.

“Oh, Noah, I…”

But before I can say any more, he presses into me and puts his mouth on my lips. I return the kiss. It’s deep and urgent. He knows well how to use his tongue, and I grind into him.

Noah pulls off my top, and as he leads me to the reclining lawn chair, he gropes my breasts firmly, but not sloppily. It feels fantastic, and now I’m flat on my back on the chair, and Noah’s fingers have torn away my bikini bottoms. A rush of air on my most sensitive area, and then…

His mouth is exploring my inner thighs, licking and kissing and sucking. An occasional bite that hurts, a bit, but not unpleasantly.

Might a neighbor be looking over the fence, or spying from a second story bedroom? In this moment, I have decided, I don’t give a flying fuck.

His tongue gently travels from near one side of, then above, then to the other side of my clit. He lets out a warm breath that makes me quiver. He explores the outside of my delicate, sensitive flower that has gone untouched by another for so many months, refusing to lick my clit or the inside of my cunt. He inhales through his nose and enjoys my sweet fragrance, so much so that he lets out a gentle moan, which is a deep, loving hum that vibrates my pussy infuriatingly. That hum is my new favorite sound.

I might die, I think. I might die if he doesn’t kiss me there right now. I am going to die in absolute misery. He uses both hands to grab my ass. I let out a moan, I curl my toes, am absolutely positive I am about to DIE, and then, thank heaven above, he kisses the softest, most sensitive place between my legs, and I cry in happiness.

Whether it’s a skill he’s learned or an innate ability, I do not care: Noah is good. He’s better than good, he’s fantastic. He tastes the layers of my flesh and he treats my clit like a queen. My breath quickens and I near climax quickly. But Im not ready, not yet.

I’m going to come, I whisper.

He just hums a response. Yes, please, he invites.

No, I tell him, No. Inside, I say.

He listens. Good boy. He leaves my pussy long enough to tear off his shirt and pull down his jeans (depriving me of the pleasure of disrobing him). He is smooth, and firm, and throbbing. He enters me. He fills me, touching the core of my desire. He pumps firmly, but slow, his pubic bone stimulating my clit till I think it will erupt in fire and madness. His member pierces the want I have had since I first laid eyes on his sculpted body. He breathes into my neck. Yes, yes, yes I think, and his already firm erection gets harder as the convulsions begin.

His back bleeds as my nails dig into it, and his cock finds a knot of frustration so deep in me that I hadn’t realized it was there.

An earth-shattering silence overtakes me as my pussy and that knot within sing a blissful, ancient song. There is an explosion, and my toes and fingers and Noah on top of me feel it. It overcomes me, and the rest of the world is gone.

There is peace.

The world comes back, slowly. The day is still hot. Noah’s eyes pierce mine, with love. Today, we both understand, marks the beginning of the finest summer either of us will ever know.

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