I suppose it’s fitting that right before I left for home for winter break, I had a quick rendezvous with the Photographer (otherwise known as not a big cock boy, whom most of you won’t remember, but was the subject of my very first post). It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him since (there had been some messy business with some long distance Suicide Girl ‘girlfriend’ he kept getting on and off with and a tiny bit of indiscretion with us both being drunk on his birthday and then an awkward attempt at resolution without much effect), but it was the first time we really did anything indecent.

I was stressed and had a final bright and early the next morning, and still had major apartment issues to work out. In such a state of borderline panic, my only chance at relaxing was, of course, calling up the Photographer (who had finally gotten over his stupid indecision regarding miss little LTR suicide girl).

The moment I opened my front door, he pushed me against the wall and kissed me, fast and hard. I had forgotten how impatient he was. And how much I loved it.

We headed to my room, where he took off the snow coated boots and massive jacket. I was in not-so-sexy studying clothes, and actually wanted to study for a bit before we got on with anything distracting, but he was not one for catch up talk before jumping on top of me and grabbing at my breasts beneath my shirt.

Ah. I had also forgotten what a fantastic kisser he was—second only, possibly, to Bad Idea—and how his delicious brown curls were made for gripping. He knew just how much to suck and how much to nibble, and when to bite, hard, eliciting sharp quick cries of pleasure. That, and his enthusiasm, which brought me back to the not so distant teenage years, of first discovering a sex drive and the utter need to satisfy it, of lust in grinding hips and gasped moans over denimed friction.

He pulled off my PJ pants, and pulled away my panties as he rushed to thrust his fingers into my wet pussy and suck at my clit. With the same feverish sense of urgency he had me moaning and craving cock minutes after. When I fumbled at lowering the tight jeans from his hipbones, he pulled out his cock and helped shove my head down without a moment’s wait. The good news was that his rough face fucking was quite hot, and less terribly uncomfortable because of the size of his dick, but unfortunately, like the restless teenage sex driven to early ends by desire and necessity, it only took minutes until he came inside my mouth, holding my head there as the hot cum squirted against the back of my throat.

I suppose it was enough of a distraction (especially our heated argument regarding the merits of Lady Gaga shortly after…my sort of pillow talk), and it was a fun little reunion. But next time we play, I’m insisting that he finds something to keep up longer. This girl needs so much more abuse.