Abby had suggested a short visit in our secret chats a while ago, but life and distance always seemed to get in the way.

A few weeks passed before she finally sent another message. “Tuesday?” she asked, saying she could make it work.

My mind immediately started flipping through the calendar in my head. Tuesday would definitely work.

Just the thought of seeing her again after so many years, even if it was only to hang out for a little while, had me more excited than I would admit to her. 

Tuesday. The long-awaited rendezvous was set.

I’ve known Abby for decades, and the connection between us was always explosive. Our secret relationship began the way I imagine many normal relationships do, spending more and more time together, playful tickle wars, sneaking away from everyone else for little adventures of our own.

Even with a quick buildup towards the physical, I was attracted to her for the emotional. Looking back, I feel like she fed my ego and I thrived on that. She gave me direction.

She praised my drawings, my writing, even the woodworking projects I spent hours obsessing over.

And in turn, she said I inspired her. Inspired her to do better and to push a little harder.

It was always complicated, though. We each had someone in our lives, people we would never want to hurt. The timing between us never seemed to work in our favor.

We had relationships that came and went, but the endings never quite lined up for us to have an actual beginning.

But somehow, Abby and I managed to keep our secret connection alive.

Now, there was a falling out between us for a while, which may have been a good thing. It gave us both time to grow and expand our lives separately.

But, after that long break, we somehow found our way back to a safe friendship, built mostly on chats about ordinary, everyday things.

We kept a careful physical distance, even while occasionally pushing the lines of fantasy, teasing about what we might do to each other, or sharing the occasional naughty picture.

Yes, there had been a few impromptu meetups over the years, but they were rare moments. Each one was passionate and special. But every time, our public lives pulled us back in different directions.

But when Abby suggested meeting on Tuesday afternoon, it felt different to me. This wouldn't be like our last meetup eight years ago. Our conversations had grown deeper lately, and this felt like a reflection of that. 

I rushed around the house, trying to tidy up. I double and triple-checked that everything, and everyone, was where they should be.

There could be no interruptions to whatever this Tuesday had in store.

The house was clean. My wife was gone for a few days. I had showered and now waited nervously, constantly checking my phone for potential updates.

Everything inside me was flip-flopping, and it had nothing to do with getting caught with Abby.

It was actually the thought of her really being here, being near me again.

I heard her pull into the driveway and immediately set my phone aside.

Even though I was alone in the house, I felt myself trying to be cool as I walked toward the door, waiting for the knock.

I watched her small figure move up the concrete path, her silhouette glowing in the late afternoon sun, softened by the seeded glass of the door between us.

Even through the distortion, I could faintly tell she was looking over the front of the house as she walked slowly toward the door. She had never actually been here before, never stepped inside.

I waited for her to knock before opening the door. I didn’t want her to think I had been standing there the whole time waiting.

Through the distorted glass, it looked as if she smoothed her dress and hair before raising her hand to knock. When she finally did, it was soft, just a couple of light raps, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear she was there.

I forced myself to play it cool. I opened the door slowly, peeking out, acting as if I wasn’t quite sure who would be standing there.

My eyes drifted over her from the bottom up, smooth legs, a flowing sundress, bare shoulders, until they finally reached her face.

Our eyes locked.

Abby greeted me with a warm smile and those bright gray eyes. A nervous tingle ran through me.

I managed a quiet, cracked “hi” as I pushed the outer storm door open. Before she could even step inside, I reached for her, just as she opened her arms for me.

Our arms wrapped around each other as her small frame leaned into me.

The hug lasted longer than a simple hello. Neither of us seemed in a hurry to let go.

I lowered my head until my face rested against her hair. I tried to breathe slowly, hoping to calm my heart so she wouldn’t feel it pounding against her cheek.

I don't know why, but Abby always had that effect on me. Sweaty palms, heart racing… and I bet she knows it.

I reluctantly released her. Our eyes met again as she said hello in an excited voice.

A smile spread across my face as I welcomed her in, though a sliver of guilt made me glance around to be sure no one had seen what had just happened.

Thankfully the house sat back from the road, mostly hidden by trees, and no one around here paid much attention.

For a moment she just stood in the doorway. 

“You look amazing,” I finally said, motioning her inside.

“Thanks,” Abby replied as she stepped inside. Her eyes swept the room, quietly making sure we were really alone.

After closing the door, we stood there for a moment, simply taking each other in, studying the small changes time had brought.

I finally broke the silence, asking about her drive as I walked deeper into the living room.

We quickly slipped into casual small talk as I gave her a quick tour of the house. She’d heard most of the stories behind it, but she had never actually seen it for herself.

I pointed things out as we moved from room to room, our conversation staying light as we caught up on the day-to-day pieces of our lives.

We stood close together as I showed her a piece of furniture I had built in my basement office. My hand rested on the wood as she ran her fingers lightly across the grain. Her hand eventually drifted, grazing mine.

Our hands held there for a moment, her pinky lightly curling over mine, before slowly moving away.

I cleared my throat and led her back toward the stairs, then followed a couple of steps behind her.

The way she moved was smooth and unhurried. It had a hypnotic flow.

I found myself watching the gentle sway of her hips, and trying to trace the faint lines of her panties beneath the fabric of her dress.

Halfway up the stairs she glanced back at me, her cheeks a little rosy. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before she turned and continued up.

She knew.

I followed her the rest of the way, trying to focus on the stairs but I couldn't.

Back on the main floor, the short tour took us through the kitchen, past the bedroom, where she commented on the large bed, and finally out onto the new deck I had built. We stood there for a while, looking out over the vast woods while still talking about our lives.

New jobs, new cars, kids… 

While leaning against the railing, I spotted a bright red cardinal in the trees, but she couldn’t find it. I moved behind her, placing my left hand on the railing near her ribs. I pressed my body lightly against her and pointed over her shoulder with my right hand toward a spot in the trees.

Abby playfully arched her back, pushing her ass against me and held as we silently watched the bird bounce between branches. I bent my head down again, nearly touching her neck with my lips. I could almost taste her. I brushed my nose lightly through her hair.

Eventually I backed away, even though I thought I heard a faint sigh of disappointment from her.

I pulled my shoulders back, trying to look taller as I led her back into the house.

We finally sat on my worn brown leather couch facing the large windows overlooking the woods.

Our conversation moved into “what if” territory. What if we had gotten together back then? What if we had kids or if we hadn’t lasted?

“What if” was fun to contemplate, but we had the real world tugging at us.

She had recently married. That word, married, had sounded strange when she said it in a chat. I knew what it was supposed to mean, I’d been married long enough myself. But sitting beside her on that old couch, the longing between us was undeniable and that word, married, faded to the background.

Outside, the springtime sun was getting low, casting orange and pink light through the windows over her bare legs that rested inches from mine. Her hands were folded on her lap as she talked about everything that had been happening.

Her voice was bright with excitement. I tried to listen, I really did. But my eyes probably betrayed me, drifting over her, tracing curves I knew well.

She wore one of those summer dresses I’d always loved on her. It was light blue and flowing, the fabric was clinging just enough to hint at every one of them curves.

I lost track of her words every time that dress moved with every subtle shift of her body.

Abby tucked her hair behind her ear and said my name, snapping me back to the conversation.

I hoped I hadn’t missed anything important.

She reached over and ran her fingers across the small scars on the back of my hand. Then she turned my hand over, placing hers on top, quietly studying the difference in size.

Her thumb moved slowly across my palm, tracing the lines. I smiled, but felt a bit flushed.

I quickly stood. “You want something to drink?” it was just an excuse, but it was all I had. I just needed a second, if anything, just to adjust myself.

“No,” she replied quickly while standing. She reached, and her hand closed around my arm before I could even take a single step.

I actually felt my blood pressure rise.

Abby was much smaller than me, nearly a foot shorter, but there was nothing small about her grip.

Her fingers tightened as she pulled me back.

She didn’t say anything, just looked up and studied my face. It was like she was searching… maybe seeing how much I wanted her.

She had to feel my pulse beating under her fingertips.

Was she waiting for me to make a move? God, I wanted to. I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe fear? Getting too close… repeating the things that went wrong before.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but it felt endless.

Abby placed her other hand at the center of my chest, resting for a few moments before suddenly shoving me.

I stumbled back onto the couch, she caught me off guard.

Before I could say anything, she was there. The suddenness took me by surprise.

For a second, I laughed, expecting one of our old tickle wars. But I quickly shifted from that idea as she fumbled with the buttons of my shorts, pulling them and my boxers halfway down my thighs.

My erection flopped forward, leaving me exposed. Then she looked at it, I mean really looked at it. There was no shyness or uncertainty, it was like she was assessing me.

What was this? I mean, I knew, but… This was different. Of course I wanted this. Damn, I dreamed about this. But she'd never done anything like this before. Well, not this aggressive.

Abby placed one hand on the back of the couch and the other near my hip, then leaned down, close enough that I felt the warmth of her breath against my hardness. Close enough that I nearly stopped breathing. But she didn’t touch me. Instead, she stood then swung her leg over me, settling onto my hips.

Her dress flared, offering a brief glimpse of her cream-colored panties before floating down as she lowered herself. The instant her satin-covered pussy touched me, my body reacted. I was already aroused, I had been since she knocked on my door. But feeling her push down… it took me somewhere new.

I exhaled her name as I lifted my hands, instinctively reaching, but she stopped me.

Abby grabbed my wrists and forced my hands back near my shoulders, pinning them there. Then she brought herself closer.

Her chest pressed against mine through layers of fabric, her bra, dress, my shirt. Her face, just inches from mine. Her near-black hair spilled forward, tickling my neck and cheeks. I could feel her breath against my face.

I breathed her in, her perfume was familiar and intimate. The faint sweetness of her lip gloss, just out of my reach.

She hovered there, so close, but said nothing. Her eyes never left mine.

Then she began to move. Slow, controlled rotations of her hips, sending sensations rippling through me. She ground herself against me, deliberately and unhurried. I could tell Abby was savoring the moment.

As her satin-covered folds moved slowly over my erection, I felt her heat and moisture, even with the barrier.

A purred sigh slipped from her.

I tried to lift my head, drawn toward her mouth.

“No,” she whispered.

When I shifted my hands, she pressed them down harder. Kissing or touching her… that wasn’t the point.

She carefully moved up my length then back down again, occasionally allowing me to catch at her opening, just enough to make my heart stutter. Her now wet panties were the only thing keeping us apart.

My mind reeled. My senses told me to reach down, but she held my hands in place.

Her rhythm was steady, back and forth with small twists and circles. Even with the material between us, she was soaking through.

The friction almost hurt, but her moans, the way her chest moved against mine… kept me there.

She didn’t rush it. Just slow, calculated movements, back and forth, side to side.

Then, the sensation changed. She felt… closer. 

Abby paused. The barrier between us was gone.

Her panties had loosened, sliding out of place. Maybe from the constant friction and the noticeable wetness, but somehow she guided my dick into the leg of her panties.

A devilish grin came to her as she resumed the slow, deliberate gyrations, skin against skin now.

I could feel everything, her soft lips, the firmness of her tight opening, even her clit rubbing along the backside of my straining erection.

She continued rolling her hips with precise control, letting me brush her entrance before shifting again, never allowing me in.

It was near torturous. “What are you doing to me?” I finally burst out.

Abby’s expression said “shh” without words as she began longer strokes, sliding all the way forward to my head, then back. I caught at each pass for just a moment before she tilted her hips, forcing me to pop free again.

Her moans deepened, coming more often now. She began to tremble, subtle shivers running through her arms and thighs. Her pupils dilated, and I could feel her entire body trembling as her muscles spasmed.

Still, she wouldn't let me enter.

Her breathing grew uneven, and for the first time, her eyes closed. She wasn’t watching me anymore.

Her body tensed. I felt small twitches in her legs and stomach, then her whole body shuddered. An “oooh” escaped her as she pressed herself down against me. I felt her climax wash over me. Even my thighs were wet.

She held my wrists down the entire time, her grip tightening as her palms grew slick. Beads of sweat dotted her skin, and the room smelled unmistakably of sex.

And still, I hadn’t entered her.

When her gray eyes opened, they looked darker, almost dangerous. She looked at me, and I couldn’t tell if it was longing, love, or lust. Maybe it was all three at once.

I was so damn close. God, I needed to be inside her.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she subtly shook her head, telling me no.

Abby began moving again with renewed purpose. The rhythm changed to longer, slower passes, subtle shifts guiding each motion. She rolled forward and paused, then rotated slightly before easing back again. She repeated the pattern, still catching her breath from heartbeats earlier.

On the last shift, something changed. I caught.

She stopped again, tilting her head to the side. She looked like she was figuring something out. Then she eased back just a fraction. This time, I didn’t slip free. I stayed in place, just barely inside her.

Yes!

Her eyes narrowed. A tight, knowing smile touched her lips as she started moving again. She used small, steady circles, pressing back against me very slowly.

She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes tightly. After a moment, they opened again, staring deeply into mine. Anticipation tightened in my chest as she pressed back slowly, inch by deliberate inch.

Finally!

In my mind, I was cheering, but something felt different. The intensity caught me off guard. It was almost too much, balanced somewhere between strain and pleasure.

It was fucking incredible. Velvety, yet nearly unyielding around me. I instinctively lifted my hips.

“No,” she whispered again.

She continued slowly, pausing every few seconds. She eased forward, then back again, taking more of me each time. Concentration showed in her face, her teeth still biting her lower lip.

The heat and squeezing pressure overwhelmed my senses.

We had no words, just heavy breaths.

Once she had pushed back as far as she could, she held there.

Her grip around my wrists tightened just slightly, reminding me this was her choice.

A low growl escaped my throat as she inhaled deeply and held it. Abby finally released my wrists, then carefully sat upright while pressing her hands against my chest for leverage. She drew her knees forward without dislodging me, settling back until she was straddling me.

I sank even deeper into her.

I studied her eyes and saw the conflict there, but also, undeniable satisfaction.

I had teased her about this for years. We circled it and even tried a couple times, but never fully, not like this.

And now here we were. And this was all her decision.

I'd never been in this situation before with anyone. It was exhilarating to be desired so much. It felt like more than just sex. 

I felt needed.

My eyes drifted down, taking in the pulse in her neck, her chest rising and falling, and her straining nipples pressing against the fabric of her bra and dress. I needed to see more, but the flowing blue dress denied me.

After a few seconds, Abby began to slowly rock. The movements were subtle at first, like she was testing herself with small rotations of her hips. There was no lifting and falling, just gentle rocking.

Her hands traced lightly over my chest. Her fingertips barely grazed my nipples through my shirt, teasing me while her body gradually adjusted to the intrusion.

She took several slow, deep breaths, then looked back at me. A sinful grin curved her lips. As if she was triumphant.

There were no exploring hands or passionate kissing, no loving words. Just her saying “no” a couple of times, the steady, controlled rhythm of her hips, and the unbearable intimacy of her eye contact.

Abby knew exactly what she was doing.

With precise, fluid motions of her hips, she impaled herself, fully on me.

She fell into a slow rhythm, as if she’d rehearsed this a hundred times in her mind. From the second she walked through my door, every shift of her body, every movement of her hips, was measured and graceful. I knew this was planned out long before she showed up. From the beautiful dress to the faint, sweet perfume, I felt it.

Her eyes stayed on mine. There was something there… maybe conquest. I don’t know if it was a conquest of me or of her own struggles, but it was there all the same.

Abby paused, then leaned back a bit, the dress pulling tight and accentuating her breasts. She slipped one arm behind her, between my legs, steadying herself while her knees edged further forward.

With her other hand, she gathered her dress and drew it up, revealing her mostly panty-covered pussy. The satin was visibly darkened, no longer snug from the constant friction. I could just make out her lips beneath it.

My eyes flicked back to her face. She was still watching me. She wasn’t performing, maybe studying me, looking for my reaction to all this.

Just as quickly, I went back to where we were joined. I didn’t want to miss a single second.

It was so tight around me and every subtle shift of her body magnified the sensation. 

Pure lust had taken over.

She leaned back further, muscles tightening in her inner thighs while lifting slightly. Then she pulled her panties to the side.

Abby’s freshly shaven pussy was flushed and glistening. But that was when the full reality sank in.

She rotated her hips back, confirming what I already knew. I was completely in her clenching ass.

My eyes stayed there, feeding on it. Just seeing it hit me really hard. I tried not to move within her. I needed to savor this moment for as long as possible.

I just couldn't believe it. It was as if she was proudly showing off what she had done.

I looked back at her face and saw her biting her lower lip again, but her eyes were soft. There was unmistakable pleasure there. But there was something else too.

A flicker of discomfort, maybe? 

She knew me too well. Even though she had said she didn’t like this more than once, here she was, in control, choosing it. Giving herself to me, fully.

I remembered her saying once, when we tried it before, she kinda liked it.

I wanted to say something, but I didn’t trust myself not to ruin it with some smart ass comment. Outside of a deep growl, I decided to stay quiet.

I shifted my hand toward her, driven by instinct, but she caught the movement instantly.

A quick playful smack of her palm stopped me mid-motion.

My hand fell back to my side, exactly where she intended it to stay.

Then she leaned back a little more and began to rock her hips in slow, measured motions. She lifted slightly up my length, then sank back down again.

Her fingers drifted lower. She began to rub herself in slow, knowing circles, coating her fingertips with moisture on each pass.

She had never given me this. She had never allowed me to see her like this.

She slipped two fingers inside herself and I felt it immediately, the pressure from her fingers separated by a fragile wall. They rubbed against my dick as she rose and fell.

The familiar pressure began building, a tingle rising inside me. The urge to push up was so strong, but I resisted. I needed the moment to stretch on.

Growing more comfortable and confident, Abby began to lift higher, exposing inches of me before sinking back down, each time with more force. The muscles were tightening in her thighs, her knees pressed into my ribs as she moved.

Her fingers moved faster as she alternated between her clit then sliding into herself. Each motion was practiced and unrestrained.

Her moisture flowed freely, glistening against her skin. I looked back up at her face. Her mouth was parted now, lips slightly open as faint moans escaped her.

Her hair was disheveled, damp with sweat that caught the light. She wasn’t watching me anymore. Her attention had turned inward, fully consumed by what she was feeling.

Her eyes fluttered, then closed, lashes resting against her cheeks as she concentrated, breathing heavily, lost in the moment.

Her lower stomach muscles visibly tightened. Her body trembled and quivered above me. My gut squeezed, coiling in on itself. The heat at our union was almost unbearable.

Her soft, velvety inner flesh and tight, gripping opening were nearly too much to handle. The sounds she made overwhelmed me.

I couldn’t resist any longer and gripped her thighs, squeezing as she continued her rise and fall. She moved with more urgency. Her rhythm of tightening and releasing built pressure within me.

Abby leaned forward, moving her arm from between my legs. She pressed her palm against my shoulder for support.

“Don’t… get used to this…” she murmured between shallow breaths. “Next time… it's in… my pussy.”

A groan escaped my mouth as I stared back into her eyes.

She slowed, then quickened her movements with both her fingers and her hips. She drew the moment out, refusing to let it break.

She clenched around me and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I forced past her hold, shoving up hard, sinking every bit of myself into her ass.

A primal groan tore from both of us as I pulled her down. I tried to hold back as long as I could, but I finally erupted deep inside her in waves. With each release my body shivered harder. 

Our hot, mingled fluids flowed down over me.

Abby shuddered while nearly clawing my shoulder, then collapsed over me.

She rested her head against my shoulder, squeezing her inner muscles, keeping me buried within her.

I felt the final tremors fade as we remained pressed together in the afterglow. Neither of us was willing to be the first to move.

She lay on my chest, her cheek warm against me, her knees drawn up around my ribs. The dress had fallen over my hands, which still rested on her thighs, rubbing them softly.

Her breath remained uneven as her fingers curled loosely against my still-racing chest, tracing absent patterns.

We didn't speak for a long time. It wasn't empty silence, it felt contemplative.

Then she broke the silence with a small laugh.

“By definition… was that cheating?”

Her tone was casual and that made it feel dangerous.

I didn’t know if she’d done it for me… or if this had been for her. Either way, I would never forget it.

Being with Abby had always felt like lighting fireworks, beautiful, unpredictable, and just risky enough to make you hesitate before diving in.

Her question wasn’t an accusation. She said it carefully, then waited.

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came. A small chuckle slipped out instead, a reflex.

She lifted her head and looked at me. She really looked at me.

The mischief was gone. So was the triumph. What replaced it was something else. It was hard to read. Maybe simple curiosity, probably something much deeper.

I stared into her eyes and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

I knew the feelings and desire I thought we'd buried years ago hadn’t died.